


"The BlueBill Arc"(!!)

by josephina_x



Series: Dimension 46’\-A [22]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (I am gonna have to add a lot more tags to this later haha), (man I should probably add those abuse tags to every previous fic geez Bill c'mon now...), (tags are in no particular order), (woah I didn't know there was a tag for that! cool!), Abuse, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Technology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Cats, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Dragons, Dungeons Dungeons & More Dungeons, Empathy, Flat Dreams (Gravity Falls Fanfic), Flatland References, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Illusion IS Reality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Massive Crossover, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Disintegration, One Year Later, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Post-Series, Post-Weirdmageddon, See You Next Summer, Sibling Love, Talking, Telepathy, There's A Tag For That, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Warning!, Young Stan Twins, demon worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 896,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josephina_x/pseuds/josephina_x
Summary: -A Bill gets another visit from Miz Cipher! (Rather unintentionally, but he's not complaining. And neither is Miz ;)Stan, on the other hand, is the man with a plan…...and so is Bill. Bill is also very plan-ny....And so are Mabel and Dipper.Not that that goes super-wellfor any of them over there. (Oops.)
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Bill Cipher, Bill Cipher & Carla McCorkle, Bill Cipher & Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher & Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Bill Cipher & Gideon Gleeful, Bill Cipher & Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher & Melody, Bill Cipher & Pacifica Northwest, Bill Cipher & Robbie Valentino, Bill Cipher & “Lazy” Susan Wentworth, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Carla McCorkle, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Stan Pines & Carla McCorkle
Series: Dimension 46’\-A [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/861064
Comments: 32
Kudos: 18
Collections: josephina_x's Gravity Falls Dimension 46'\ (dash-letter) fics





	1. Chapter 70: Team up with me

**Author's Note:**

> Fic: "The BlueBill Arc"(!!)  
> Fandom: Gravity Falls  
> Pairing: n/a  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Spoilers: through the end of the series, and some of the books (Journal #3)  
> Characters: Bill Cipher, Miz Cipher, Grunkle Stan | Stanley “Stanford” Pines, The Author | Original Stanford Pines, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Melody (Gravity Falls), Soos Ramirez, Robbie Valentino, “Lazy” Susan Wentworth, Gideon Gleeful, Other Gravity Falls Characters  
> Summary: -A Bill gets another visit from Miz Cipher! (Rather unintentionally, but he's not complaining. And neither is Miz ;) 
> 
> Stan, on the other hand, is the man with a plan… 
> 
> ...and so is Bill. Bill is also very plan-ny. 
> 
> ...And so are Mabel and Dipper. 
> 
> Not that that goes super- _well_ for any of them over there. (Oops.)  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit.  
> AN: Well, here it is! The next massive crossover that Mizuuma and I started planning almost immediately after all the original IiR + Pines Triplets + 46'\\-A 'verse crossover madness! Woohoo!
> 
> This arc was originally posted in its entirety as part of Mizuuma’s fic, [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/36804582)! There are cool pictures by Mizuuma there! (And I have permission to link/post the pics here, so I am! Woo!)  
>  _  
>  **\--Note that all pics in this fic were done by Mizuuma, none are my own! She's a super-talented artist :)**  
> _  
>  And, of course, there is Pengychan’s fic, which I always like to tip my hat to, [Flat Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062122/), as well. ...which I've admitted before that I am stealing a good chunk of as backstory wholecloth. This background starts becomes super-relevant, starting in this fic / arc. ...Just be warned that this -A Bill's backstory does "diverge" from what happens in _that_ fic in some pretty *cough* ways and, woo, once I _finally_ get there, to talking _specifically_ about what happened with this Bill, I'm probably gonna get murdered by alllllll of you my readers, haha. ^_^;;;;;;;;;; :) ;)
> 
> Note that this fic here focuses mainly on the -A Bill series events, and does not include or cover the parts where Miz did her interludes that occur in the IiR dimensional set. I do link to those, though, and there are times that I highly recommend reading those interludes, because they both include relevant backstory and are cool. :)
> 
> ...Note that I may later decide to come back and rearrange the order of the writing slightly in some of the later chapters (which occurred in flashbacks due to the editing post-once-a-week on Sunday-night/Monday-morning schedule of Miz's that I was trying to keep to -- mad props for Miz being able to do that so consistently every single week, by the way, I dunno how she does it!). If and when that happens, I will note when these occur in-fic in the author's notes.
> 
> \--Okay, on with the fic!! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Meeting up with a friend...and...a new brother?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: …And so it begins!! :D
> 
> There is a large chunk of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/41637026) that happens before this part first -- a good 69 chapters of fic, really -- including a bit of this specific chapter, which I cut from this reposting. To give you the quick summary if you haven't read Miz's fic: Miz!Bill (a human girl who died and got reincarnated as a Bill Cipher) is doing a few things in her own dimensional set, before she decides to try exploring the Void of Doors that exists in her True Dreamscape again. --Basically, this space leads to every Bill dimension that has ever existed (in every fanfic in the history of ever). She goes in there, and this time she gets into even more trouble than [last time with the prior Seb+Miz+"-A Bill" crossover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608020).
> 
> -A Bill, for his part, is in his attic-room when Miz first hits the ground "running", as you'll see shortly ;)
> 
> This is a "repost" of Chapter 80 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/41637026). It was first posted on Feb 18, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\---

You know that thing where someone tells you not to do something and it makes you want to do it even more?

I entered the Void of Doors again.

Apologizing to dad in my head, I flew around and tried once again, to find Seb or Blue's doors.

Damn. What's Blue's dimension called? I remember I glance at it briefly when I left all those eons ago. At least Seb's should be easy to find. It was just Triplet AU…

I twitched.

There was a whole section of Doors with the words Triplet AU on them. I floated closer to check them out.

Triplet Flatland AU? Triplet Genderbend AU?? Triplet...royalty AU?!

What even the fuck??

I shook my head. You know what? I wasn't gonna deal with this right now.

I flew off to check out the other doors. There was a strange...buzzing sound as I passed one. I slowed down and stared at it. The door was...for a lack of a better word, flickering.

The buzzing sound was getting louder and I was getting an uneasy feeling. I backed away as the door began to twist. The flickering was getting worse, like the door was struggling to exist and turned into static as the buzzing sound became unbearable. I hid behind another door and shrunk myself down as small as I could, unsure what was happening but just...KNOWING that it wasn't good.

I stiffened when part of the door seemed to glitch and a hand slowly materialized out from the corner of it. I was frozen in horror at the… _thing_ pulling, screeching, stretching, dragging itself out of the door. I watched in horror as a very familiar shape formed.

I stayed quiet and hoped it didn't see me. It finally wrenched its way free from its door, which spasmed into static and then vanished. I stayed still, small and dull and terrified.

Whatever this thing was, it looked like me...but...not. Even disregarding the way its body flicked, limbs appearing and disappearing or seeming to be a different size or from a different angle, there was something...fundamentally wrong with it. Its (his??) eye was wide, and darting around frantically. I pressed myself against the door frame and prayed it didn't see me.

I watched in horror as it screeched and twisted, turning to one of the other doors and ramming it, grabbing desperately at the door knob that miraculously remained locked. I didn't realize they locked, they opened just fine when I so much as touched them. It pounded on the door a few times before dragging itself away. I don't need to breathe but held my breath anyway.

What the fuck?! What the ACTUAL fuck?! I had to get home, I had to get home NOW. I waited for the thing to make its way past a few more doors before I chanced it, turning and flying as fast as I possibly could back to my own door, which I could FEEL the location of, my instinctive connection towards it. From behind, I hear it scream.

"Brx! Grq'w uxq! Frph zlwk ph! Jlyh ph brxu srzhu! Zh zloo ghvwurb wkhp wrjhwkhu! Zh zloo eh zkroh djdlq!"

"NO THANK YOU!" I squeaked as I flew. I could hear the static buzzing of collapsing space behind me. To my horror, it was getting closer. Fuck it, I wasn't going to make it to my door in time! I felt a twinge of familiarity. A sense of a door I had been through before. It was better than nothing.

I swerved towards that door instead, slamming into it at full speed and getting inside before immediately slamming it shut behind me. Before I was overwhelmed by the twisting of dimensional travel, I could hear its voice screaming in frustration as it couldn't get through the door.

\---

(3rd person POV)

"...aaaaaAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" MizBill screamed as they toppled out of the air and slammed hard into some sort of barrier before sliding down into the dirt. Once again, not causing any damage because they were in the Mindscape. They laid there in the dirt, whimpering. "Fuck… where am I now?" MizBill looked around to get their bearings. It appeared to be Earth. Good. Uh… which dimension was this? He blinked and looked around. The Mystery Shack. Ok. That's… one thing. He floated off the ground and looked around. Ok… there was a barrier, and this was a world he's been to before. A quick flicker and…

"BLUE!" MizBill squealed. He was thrilled to make it back here! Even if it wasn't quite in the circumstances he'd been hoping for.

He/she watched as that local blue-and-black-haired female-bio-sexed cat-eyed human-ish-formed Bill Cipher kicked open the window to the attic room he was currently in, cursing in Galactic Standard as he jumped out of said window and half-ran half- _slid_ down the side of the roof _without slowing down_. He yanked some curved tool out of his belt and used the lower gutters to perform a sort of somersault off of the side -- barely catching it before he would’ve launched himself off of it to what would have otherwise been a very rough and bone-breaking stop -- and instead kicked his feet and flipped himself up end-over-end down and onto his feet onto the ground, slowing himself down as he went.

Bill let go of the odd wooden tool, staggered a bit in place for a moment, then seemed to get his bearings and sprinted forward past the edge of the barrier.

"STANLEY!! VISITORS!!" Bill yelled out as loud as he could as he slid to a stop on the grass and, not a second and a half later, his hands and forearms went up in crackling blue flame. He let out a snarl as he spun in place, glaring upwards as he scanned the sky.

A red gash seemed to open up almost spontaneously across his forehead, slashing from the upper left of his hairline down nearly to his right eyebrow, and it began dripping blood into his right eye as he began to chant… then he trailed off and stopped, looking almost puzzled.

"...Miz?" Bill said, blinking as he stared upwards at her, and the fire along his arms pulled back down low to nearly a flicker of flame.

He stared a little longer, slowly lowering his arms, then started to grin.

"Kid?" Stanley called from inside the house, coming out onto the porch.

Bill dropped his chin to glance over at Stanley for a moment.

"IT’S FINE!" Bill called out, shaking his arms and hands out a bit like he was shaking off the flames -- which went out shortly thereafter.

"You sure?" Stan called back, sounding a bit skeptical as he walked his way off the porch and towards him slowly, taking his time.

"YES!" Bill called out again. He craned his head to look back up at Miz, but slowly dropped his chin to follow her progress as she floated in lower. "Seb with you? Or is this a ‘solo’ adventure this time?" he asked her with an not-quite lopsided grin, as he put his hands on his hips.

MizBill materialised his, HER, Miz vessel. She slipped into it and grinned at Bill. "Hi Bill! Long time no see! In person at least. Seb's not here right now…" Her smile flicked. "Eh… it was… kinda a surprise visit. I didn't quite mean to come here but it's nice that I did."

Bill tilted his head at her, not offended in the least. "Were you shooting for Seb’s door, instead?" he asked, as Stanley came up to nearly stand beside him, watching them both. (Stan stayed inside the barrier, though it wasn’t completely clear if that was on purpose or by accident, due to where and how Bill was standing.)

"Yeah. I was worried since I haven't been able to contact him. Also… uh… I discovered something problematic."

Bill’s eyebrows went up.

"What’s the problem?" he asked quite seriously, as he absently wiped at his right eye, which was weeping blood slightly. He glanced down at his palm for a moment, then grimaced, muttered a word, and all the blood on his forehead, face, and hand seemed to jump off of him and vanish mid-air. He looked back up at her.

"Good news and bad news. Good news, I found out what's been trying to get into my door. Bad news, it's scary as shit!!" Miz whined.

Bill smiled at her, then grinned.

"Tell me," he said. "I don’t scare easy." Then something seemed to occur to him and he let out a laugh. "--THAT’D be a new one! _Easy._ "

"...it was a Bill Cipher. Not you, a different one!"

Bill nodded, looking completely unsurprised.

"So, what’s the scary part," Stan asked.

"It was… wrong… there was something wrong with it!" Miz shook her head.

At that, Bill frowned slightly. "Wrong, _how?_ " he said, dropping his arms. It was clear to him that she meant something beyond ‘an other-him/them that thought differently’ and wouldn’t get along with them, but he didn’t get what the ‘scary’ part was yet.

Miz whimpered and looked down. "It… felt like… it wasn't supposed to exist… like… reality had rejected it, it didn't exist. It FELT like it didn't exist. But I could see it! I could HEAR it. But all my senses told me that there was nothing there. There… it wasn't supposed to be there!"

Bill blinked, and he looked to be at a slight loss.

"Not in the Mindscape?" he asked, still frowning. "You couldn’t see it with your Eye?"

Miz nodded. "All my 'magical’ senses told me that there was nothing there. And… I just got this really foreboding feeling… like… like it would make ME stop existing if it touched me!"

Bill’s frown deepened. He stared at her for a moment, then turned his head to look at Stanley. (Bill wasn't used to the idea of not being able to trust his senses. As far as Bill was concerned, that was a human thing.)

Stanley glanced over at Bill, then looked back to Miz. "What did it look like," Stan asked her in his usual gruff gravelly tones. He was frowning a little too. Miz bit her lip and rubbed one of her arms. Her initial joy at seeing Bill again had been quickly overtaken by the panic at the memory of that… thing.

"Kid, don’t worry," Stan said, picking up on her nervousness. "This one," he tossed a thumb at Bill, "Has things set up so _nobody_ should be getting through to here that we don’t want here, though I guess you’re on the guest list." He glanced over at Bill, who grinned at this. He’d tried to be pretty careful about how he’d set and defined the parameters for ‘Bill’s and ‘other-Bill’s. (And as far as Bill was concerned, it was working exactly the way he’d wanted it to!) "Yeah. Anyway, kid’s been working on a bunch of stuff for that -- plus a couple of nasty surprises too, just in case anybody we don’t want here does start to make their way through," he added, shrugging.

Bill nodded as ‘encouragingly’ at her as he could, grinning at her again.

Miz nodded. Well, she made sure to slam the door shut and could HEAR that it couldn't get in. "Well… it… looked kinda like a Bill Cipher but it kept… glitching. Like a TV screen going bad and the images distorting…"

Bill didn’t seem to understand what she was meaning, given how he started to frown again, but Stan straightened in place a bit.

"Can you show us?" Bill asked. "Like this?" He waved a hand, and snapped his fingers loud enough that the keyword he nearly subvocalized wasn’t truly audible, as he visualized the appropriate mental mandala-spell for what he wanted to have magically happen. Almost immediately, an illusion of a flowering bush sprung into place next to him before slowly fading out, as a demonstration of what he meant.

Miz nodded. The adrenaline from the mad dash to escape fading as the fear finally set in. She shook a little but held out a hand and an image appeared… sort of. Despite the image of that thing being so clear in her mind, she couldn't… quite… focus on it. Still, the illusion she made was a large Bill Cipher, twisted, distorted, flickering into static and fading in and out of existence. She could only hold the image for around 10 seconds before her hand twitched and dropped. "I-I'm sorry… its… hard…"

Bill stared at the illusion the entire time it was there, expressionless. After she dropped it, he turned to her, blinked, then suddenly smiled and took a few steps forward, to stop in place right in front of her.

"Good job, kid!" Bill said, with the smile fixed unchanging on his face. And he lifted his hand up and patted her on the head in a way that would have come across as awkward… if it hadn't been clear that he was in no way embarrassed by what he was doing -- he just _no idea_ what he was doing, other than trying to do a supportive-human thing for her. Miz still leaned into the touch, craving any sort of comfort after her close brush with non-existence.

(Stan was watching them both carefully as they did this. ...He’d been watching them both closely, ever since he’d come outside.)

Bill blinked at Miz’s reaction, the smile slowly fading, then he let the palm of his hand just lay in place on top of her head, almost experimentally. (‘A wild Miz likes touch. What will she do if I do this?’) Miz looked up and reached up to hug Bill gently. She was still shaking. Bill didn’t pull away, but he did go a bit rigid right before she wrapped her arms around him, and went completely still once she had.

"RIGHT! THIS IS FINE! NO BITING! I AM NOT FOOD!" Bill said very loudly, _clearly_ and openly uncomfortable with what she was doing, but he was _also_ just as clearly _not_ trying to shove her off or make her stop, either.

Stan snorted. He walked forward and dropped his hand onto the top of Bill’s head. Miz nodded, her face buried in his chest. "I won't bite. I don't bite friends." She said quietly as she tried to make her shivering stop.

"RIGHT. GOOD. YES. --WAIT." Bill’s expression froze, and he slowly by degrees tilted his chin down to stare down at her. "... _Friends?_ " he said very very slowly.

Miz nodded. "I mean...you helped me out a lot and you're nice. So you're my friend." she slowly unwrapped her arms to step away and look up at him. "Isn't...that how friends work?"

Bill said nothing for a long moment.

"No," Bill said firmly. Then he opened his mouth to say something else, but instead let out a soft ‘Ack whyyyyyyyy--!!’ next as Stanley mussed up his hair pretty badly.

"Explain it, kid," Stan told Bill, as Bill started whistle-clicking complaints at him. "Pretty sure you don’t mean what that just sounded like to us humans." Miz looked over at Stan and seemed confused. "What, you’re the used-to-be-human demon one; right, dragon-lady?" he gave her a knowing look and a ghost of an ‘I know something you don’t know’ smile.

"Nnnnnn--AAH! STOP!" Bill said, batting Stan’s hand away. " _Not_ a friend. We’re not only working together while we’re USEFUL. _And_ she’s not going to BACKSTAB me later when she gets _bored_ for NO _reason!_ " he spat out at Stan, glaring and looking almost offended on Miz’s behalf.

"Uh...a friend, to me is someone that I will help, protect and care for. Almost like a brother." Miz explained. She was starting to get how Bill worked, he didn't have the same definitions for stuff. Probably a language issue.

Bill seemed to stop in place for a moment, twisting his head back on his neck to stare at her. Stan eyed Bill sideways, then said almost lightly, and maybe a little leadingly, while still watching ‘his’ Bill, "...Or maybe a sister?"

Bill looked away from them both. He shifted from foot to foot, then back again, almost swaying, a bit like his torso was bobbing in mid-air. It was the least-human looking motion from him that he’d shown while outside with them so far.

"...maybe," Bill muttered after a good long while. Mostly, he looked like he really didn’t know _what_ to think yet, except that he was in the middle of thinking deeply, with the odd frown he had going.

"Well, there ya go," Stan said, like that was that. "Chose yourself a new younger sibling there, good job kid," he told Bill plainly, though he had almost a smirk in his eyes, as he looked at Bill, then back over to Miz. "Unless you don’t want him?" It wasn’t really a question, exactly. It definitely wasn’t leading; it was clear that Stan was sure that Miz would say ‘yes’ if asked.

"I never turn down more family. Especially not brothers or sisters!" Miz said firmly. She winced and looked embarrassed. "I mean...i-if it's not too forward of me…" She shuffled her feet and pulled at her shirt.

Bill looked back over at her, and his entire body language punctuated the shocked look on his face. "Yes -- no -- mm." Bill stopped talking for a moment, then shook his head briskly. "You-- shouldn’t just take anyone," Bill said, then added, "Whether they want you or not," almost under his breath. Then he straightened a bit and added with a great deal more put-on bravado, "HAVE SOME STANDARDS!"

"Said the kid with almost no standards," Stan said with a smile, ruffling Bill’s hair again. He kept it up through a bit of Bill’s complaining (which went something along the lines of ‘OF COURSE I HAVE STANDARDS! _STANLEY!!!_ ’), then dropped his hand again. "Y’know, I saw something like that thing you showed us before," he told them both a little more seriously. "It was--"

"--Stanley??" they all heard a certain nerd-owl call out from the bowels of the house.

"Oh, _wonderful_ ," Bill muttered, looking thoroughly pissed off already, as he glanced over at the house.

Stan glanced over at the back porch, then said quickly, "--when you were melting inside my head, kid. ‘Look at me,’" he said, tapping his own forehead with a finger.

Bill looked over at him, startled by his words. He didn’t get the gesture -- he was just perturbed by the words, which he _did_ recognize. Nor did Bill understand or quite pick up on the relevance of the next gesture he saw, when Stan ticked his head at him, then Miz, before he turned away from them. He just stared after Stan, as Stan started walking back to the Shack a lot faster than he’d walked away from it, to meet Ford almost at the doorway, with Mabel and Dipper at each side.

Bill looked over at Miz.

"...Little …sister...?" he said slowly. He tilted his head at her sideways, just as slowly.

Miz's smile lit up her face and she blushed. A brother! A brother! Oh...oh my god! She covered her face and squealed. "Y-yes!" she wiggled and looked like she wanted to hug Bill again.

"WELL." Bill blinked at her, then blinked at her again. He had NOT been expecting that level of happiness as a response. (He’d barely been expecting the ‘yes’. ~~Actually, he hadn’t really _expected_ a ‘yes’ at all.~~) "Well. Sister. Yes." He paused. "I decided. You decided. _We_ decided." He shifted in place slightly. "So it’s official," he said almost authoritatively, as if he thought saying it was official would _make_ it official all of a sudden. Then for a moment Bill looked almost uncomfortable. That moment passed, and he straightened in place and said, "No take-backs." It came across almost challengingly, like he expected her to say ‘no’ to _that_.

Miz giggled, somewhat hysterically as she was still hyped up on nerves. Both the fading fear of meeting that...thing, and the blinding joy of having Bill accept being her new brother. "Of course not big brother!" She even sprouted a tail to wag.

"Right. Yes." _Now_ Bill looked slightly nervous, as he was sort of starting to realize what exactly he’d just done, in terms of how he himself thought about things. (And then it occurred to him, as he stared down at this very happy-looking Miz…)

(‘ _Liam won’t mind that I… we?... have a little sister now, too, once I bring him back… right?_ ’)

(Bill’s mind spun through a few almost-fretful iterations of that thought, as he stared down at his new little sister, before finally settling on: ‘ _Well, Liam can take care of me, and I can take care of her. He doesn’t have to take care of her if he doesn’t want to; that’s my job._ ’)

He reached out slowly with a hand, then patted her on the head again, still a bit expressionless as he did so; his eyes were just a touch wider than usual. Miz nuzzled into his hand, finally calmed down. (Bill blinked at her rapidly as she did so.) She was safe here. That...thing, can't get in. It wouldn't be able to touch her.

Ford was just staring at them with his mouth agape. "What's even… happening??" Then he got a storm-cloud sort of frown. "Wait…" he said, as he saw the tail and something _clicked_ for him, all-at-once. And Ford looked more than a little uncomfortably wild-eyed, as he quickly cupped his hands over his mouth and tried to do what he thought was the right thing, even for a man-eating dragon, because Bill was _Bill_ and--

" _GET AWAY FROM HIM! HE’S GOING TO EAT YOU BEFORE YOU CAN EAT HIM!!_ " they heard Ford yell out at them both.

Stan muttered something they couldn’t hear from how far away he was standing from them, while passing a hand over his face. Mabel and Dipper both looked up at their Great-Uncle with very different looks on each of their faces, in reaction to his warning, while Bill turned his head back towards him and yelled, "I’M NOT GOING TO--" then clearly gave up, muttering vile things under his breath in Galactic Standard at the idiot.

...But then Bill stopped in the middle of a word.

And he paused.

And then he brightened up slightly and got a truly diabolical _grin_.

He glanced down at Miz and said, "One minute!" brightly.

And then he removed his hand from her head and walked with a spring in his step back into the barrier and practically _skipped_ his way up onto the porch.

Ford did _not_ look very comfortable with whatever he knew Bill must be up to, nor did his look get any less suspicious when Bill held out a hand at him and made a come-hither sort of gesture, before demanding, "Give the things to me."

"......... _What_ things…?" Ford said slowly, making it sound like a ‘no’.

Bill stopped, then turned to face Stanley. "I want the bracelets." he told Stanley. "Make that Stanford give them to you, and then give them to me." Stanley looked at him blandly. "That a good idea?" Stan asked him, except it wasn’t a question.

"I’m going to FIX them!" Bill said, grinning up a storm. Stan gave him a long look. "...Yeah, okay," Stan said, shrugging, and then he turned to Ford.

There was a bit of not very happy back-and-forth between the older twins, before Ford huffed out something of a snarl and shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. He pulled out the explosive bracelets and held them out to Bill, with almost a nasty glint in his eye.

Bill glanced over at Stanley, who said, "Go ahead and take ‘em."

Ford didn’t look happy when Bill took them from him, because when he let go of his own grip on them... Bill’s arms _didn’t_ practically fall off at the weight of them this time. Bill turned right around and walked right back over to Miz where she was waiting outside the barrier.

And about three steps before he crossed the barrier line, he called out to her, "Give me another minute, I need to fix them!" As he crossed it, he informed her while grinning at her winningly, "They’re COMPLETELY BROKEN!"

Miz blinked and rubbed her face to hide her flickering as she looked up what these bracelets were, oh. Explosives used for a sick game. She wasn't even surprised, there were some really twisted people out there. Bill grinned at her, then without fanfare he dropped the bracelets to the ground, pulled out a pocket knife, sat down, flipped it open, and got to work, muttering spellwords and making short carving motions with the knife over the metal.

He made a few flinging motions at the sky, and there was an explosion -- then a second one -- both of which rattled the Shack’s windows.

There was a scuffle on the porch after that, where Ford pulled his gun, and Stanley shoved his arm back down and got into an argument with him. ...All of which Bill completely and willfully ignored.

It wasn’t long before Bill had the bracelets in sections, much of the metallic material discarded, and the resulting four half-circlets smoothed out and fitting together easily at the flat -- _not_ interlocking -- seams.

"Magnetic clasps," Bill told Miz, not looking up at her as he continued to work smoothly and diligently on them, smoothly carving glyphs and runes across the surface of each circlet in turn. He did it in efficient flowing motions, with what looked like a clear intent in mind. "Passive, constant strength. Shouldn't be able to stick-stuck-closed, no worries! No more explosives either, aaaaaand…" He made a few last swipes across the outer edges of the final half-circlet. "You have some stylish silver-platinum ‘anti-magic’ bracelets!" he told her, looking up at her and grinning, before looking down at said bracelets again and giving them a quick but careful once-over, in a final check of the visible spellwork he’d just carved into them. "...Which I think you will like VERY MUCH because they CANCEL OUT SPELLS like, HMMMMM, a mystical barrier that some idiot thought to set up around the house here? So that you can enter it?" he told her, then his grin widened. "To stop the barrier from SUPPRESSING and FORCING OUT your WEIRD little self." Then Bill finished making a few final touches to the bracelets, set them down, flipped his knife shut, and looked up at her.

Bill waited for her response to this pronouncement with bright eyes and an almost-expectant, not-quite-innocent look on his face. He looked a little like he’d just performed some great trick and was looking forward to his audience-of-one’s response -- and from how Bill took what she did next, she didn't disappoint him.

Miz gasped. "That's amazing!" she praised. Using an anti-magic item to cancel out barriers? She hadn't even considered that… Hm… this could be useful information to know in the future. "So I can get past the barrier?" she asked, and Bill nodded at her, barely holding back a grin. A slow, mischievous grin formed on her face. She glanced over at Ford and couldn't help but blush faintly. Damn, he was still hot...

Bill held up the bracelets to her, she took the bracelets from him and clicked them on. "Thanks for taking the explosives out. I'd probably survive them, but it would ruin the vessel," she giggled as she slowly stepped past the boundaries of the barrier.

Ford went pale. Fuck. The man-eater was inside. They were no longer anything like safe. "What have you done?!" he demanded of Bill. "She's dangerous!" He tried to pull up his gun again but Stan smacked his hand down once more.

"So are you." Bill said it blandly, as he got to his feet and walked towards them himself, catching up to Miz quickly as she waited a moment for him before they both headed for the porch where the rest of them were. "So is Stanley; so am I; so are Pine Tree and Shooting Star. _What’s your point?_ " Bill asked, though it was clear from his tone that he felt it was a rhetorical question because he didn’t care what the answer was.

Ford was staring at the young dragon. She looked so small and innocent, with her dress and her cute little smile, but he SAW her EAT her companion. "S-she eats people!"

"Ford," Stan said to his brother in almost-warning tones. "We _talked_ about this. You saw the footage from the security cameras in that bunker of yours. We all did. And I talked to ‘em both when they showed up here, after. The other one was fine."

"She’s not going to eat any of you," Bill said. "That would annoy me!" He grinned at Ford as he said this, but he looked a bit angry as well. Miz herself pouted. "I didn't eat Seb. I ate the vessel he discarded after he left it. It was just a meat sack without him and I didn't want to waste it."

"Not like you aren’t all cannibals, anyway," Bill added, and at Ford’s self-righteous squawk of protest, he added further, "Those ‘Stancakes’ have _his_ hair in them, don’t they?" Bill thrust a finger at Stanley. "You eat ‘human’ all the time!"

Stan coughed once into his hand.

"Ew…" Miz said. "He just...drops hair into the food?" she shuddered at how unhygienic that was. She always made sure to pluck out all hair from the meats of the animals she butchers for her family. They couldn't digest it anyway (except Ammy) and enough swallowed hair, especially long strands of it, would give them intestinal problems.

"--I KNOW!!!" Bill yelled out, "AND THEY EAT IT!" he added, waving his arms around, while looking that kind of gratified-relieved-happy that people only get when they meet somebody who finally _UNDERSTANDS_ them.

"Hey, we usually catch all of them," Dipper muttered out, and Ford looked to be in similar agreement on that front.

Mabel, by contrast, turned to Dipper and said, " _Whaaaaaat?_ \--Dipper, that’s the best part!" Miz stared at Mabel in horror. "You eat them on PURPOSE?!"

"Wellllllll..." Mabel said, scuffing her shoe against the floorboards.

"Don’t _ever_ ask what she eats," Bill told Miz as a not-all-that-quiet aside in clear warning tones. "EVER." Then he straightened up and added, quite brightly, "And _that_ is why we do not eat humans! Especially THESE ones!" he told her, punctuating his ending remark with a sweeping gesture. (Stan covered a snicker with another cough into his hand.)

Miz pouted. "Well… yeah, I see your point. I'm not gonna eat them. They're yours after all. That'd be rude." Ford looked like he wasn't sure if he should be relieved that the dragon had agreed not to eat them, or absolutely insulted that she thought they belonged to Bill. (And the fact that Bill wasn't correcting her…)

"EXACTLY!" Bill enthused, "That, too!" He looked a bit gratified at both being right about this and not even having to owe a favor in asking after it, _and_ at getting his point across so easily. Dipper was burying his face in his hands. Mabel still looked slightly embarrassed about being judged for eating Grunkle Stan's hair...

Mabel shrugged. "It's his love...so...y'know…" She shifted from leg to leg. Dipper let out a frustrated sound. Why did she have to be like this?

"Eh, ‘you do you’, kid. ...Right?" Bill told Mabel, then turned and asked of Stanley -- because Bill wasn’t quite sure if he’d gotten the context of that right for humans, in the same way that he’d seen his Question Mark use it. (He wasn't in the Mindscape and couldn't just read anyone's thoughts, to check without asking directly.) He got a nod for his efforts. "Right!" Bill then turned to Miz. "Want to see my attic room?" he asked of her, with a grin.

"Oh… um… really? I'd love to, big brother!" Miz smiled back, catching the hidden meaning of ‘Let's go talk in private’ under Bill's offer. They had a lot to discuss.

"HAHA!" Bill enthused with his old triangle demon levels of energy and excitement. "THIS WAY!"

And he took a careful hold of the corner of her sleeve and not quite dragged her into the house -- maneuvering around the Pines in the doorway -- at almost a run.

" _What did she just say???_ " Ford exclaimed belatedly, sounding like he was on the verge of having either a heart attack, a mental meltdown, _or both_ , just as soon as what he’d just heard Miz say actually completely registered with him.

Stan snickered. "I wanted the kid to find a friend, and this is WAY better." He grinned as the two raced away into the Shack and began thundering their way up the stairs, then glanced over at his own twin brother. "Trust me on this."

Ford gave him a highly skeptical look, then paled. Then colored, then paled again. ...Then made a choking sound as the idea of Bill having a ‘sister’ really _hit_ him.

"Stanley," he told his brother with grim sincerity, after taking a long and necessary moment to compose himself. "You have no idea what you’ve done."

"Yeah, I do," Stan said, smiling. "It’s gonna be great."

"No, you don’t," Ford said. "He’s going to kill her."

Stan turned and looked at him.

"Ford," Stan said slowly. "I am pretty sure that the only reason that kid wouldn’t die for a sister, is because he'd think he’d need to live to keep on helping her out."

There was a pause.

"Well then, _congratulations_ , Stanley," Ford told his twin caustically. "He has you _completely_ fooled." Stan frowned at his brother dourly as Ford turned on his heel, and in the process firmly turned his back on him. "I’m going back down to the basement," Ford informed him.

"You do that," Stan said colorlessly, crossing his arms and mentally stepping back from the ledge and away from the fight.

Dipper and Mabel glanced between their two Grunkles, then seemed to make a decision between them and both followed Ford down. Stan didn’t blame them; Ford definitely needed them right now more than he did.

Stan himself glanced up at the ceiling, and he shrugged to himself before walking back inside the Shack.

\---

Miz looked around as she followed Bill inside. This was different from Seb's shack. A little. The layout was much the same but the decor was quite different. A lot of the triangles inside the house appeared to be gone. The bracelets felt weird. She could feel the back and forth of the different forces interacting. It was a fascinating feeling. She could probably reverse engineer this.

"Brother?" she asked quietly. Bill nodded once at the ‘brother’, then shook his head. "Upstairs first," he said, as they crossed the next landing to scale the next staircase. She nodded. Privacy. Protections. Bill didn't want anyone to hear their conversation.

Once they made their way up the last flight of stairs, and crossed the first threshold of runes into the room, Bill waved a hand and muttered a few things, and the set of spells he had active up there shifted again into a different configuration -- several floating ‘spell globes’ of light flickered into being and spun themselves into different positions around the room; the ‘area at the landing’ shrunk back to the top of the staircase, with the permissions for Dipper to enter into that area being automatically revoked; Mabel’s permissions for movement around the entire attic area except the outermost boundaries and walls were revoked as well, while Stanley’s full-access permissions were retained. Another gesture, and Bill reinstated the physical barriers that only allowed light and sound to pass one-way through the area surrounding the staircase -- into the room, not out of it -- and a third gesture finished fully soundproofing the room.

A final gesture slid the curtains on the window shut.

Miz watched, learned. It looked easy but there was a lot of spellwork woven into the area to make this possible. Miz was impressed. She was already analyzing it for possible methods of improvement. "Ooh…"

"Temperature good?" Bill asked, as he walked over to the side and pulled out some cushions for them to sit on. "I like it warmer; still working on controlling this stupid human-ish body ‘properly’," he explained with a grimace. "Internal temperature regulation. _So_ finicky."

Miz nodded. "It's fine. I personally keep my own penthouse on the colder side in case I catch fire." Bill frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then pulled out his knife and made a few more gestures at the wall behind him, so he could more easily modify the temperature of the room in parts if she decided she felt (or wanted to feel) differently later. She inspected the spellwork as Bill sat down on one of the cushions and watched her sedately. "Hey, if you connected the strands into this node here, you could cut down on the energy cost by a third." she pointed out. Her personal study on magic hasn't stopped even after she had been expelled from Boarpimple.

"Yes," Bill told her, "But I want _that_ " -- he pointed at the node -- "to collapse into those others in a cascade," it was clear from the current connections to the node what he was referring to there, "to power the rest of _those_ circuits," he said, as he made another short gesture to another remotely-connected piece of spellwork rune-circuitry, one she just hadn't gotten a chance to look over yet, "In case that idiot Stanford tries to overpower the physical barrier over _there_ ," he gestured at the staircase. "Global robustness and fallbacks trump local efficiency in this case, unfortunately." Bill grimaced. "Live too close to the bleeding edge of 'efficiency’ and you can get cut by it," was the general bit of wisdom he shared with her next.

Miz groaned. "You mean Ford tries to break into your room? What a creep." Had that idiot not learned anything?

"He will sooner or later,’ Bill told her. "It’s only a matter of time. ...And he may try to do it from the walls or the floor. Roof probably won’t occur to him, though," Bill added, almost reflectively. Miz sighed. "Is that... shouldn't Stan let him know how creepy that is?" Miz shuddered at the idea of someone breaking into her room.

"It’s not creepy," Bill told her. "He wants me dead. Why wouldn’t he attack me?" Miz rolled her eyes. "Well, Ford's human, and for humans, an older man breaking into the room of a young woman, which is what your human-ish body currently is, is considered creepy and possibly illegal."

Bill let out a short, actually-human laugh, then shifted into a cross-legged posture on his cushion and propped his chin up on his palm. "That Stanford -- and the rest of my Zodiac -- know I’m a guy, not a girl," he told her. "And those Pines know that Ford wants to kill me without laying a finger on me. --That _is_ the right phrase, right?" he asked her curiously.

Miz nodded. "I always wondered about that phrase. ‘Lay a finger, lay a hand or Touch a hair on their head’. Isn't that kinda specific?"

"It’s history, kid. And not that ancient," Bill informed her. "Some ‘creep’ knocks somebody out, they can take their sweet time doing anything they want to them. Touching them however they want. Run their hands across them. Grab their hair. _Whatever._ they. want. And if that somebody wakes up, then that ‘creep’ has to physically hold ‘em down, ‘laying’ parts on other-parts…" Bill shrugged. He’d Seen it all before, in so many different variations, it was boring really. A violation of physical boundaries in order to break the mind attached to it? Tch. _Amateur hour._ \--No imagination! (And more often than not, all that sort of violation left behind after someone’s 'playtime’ was over was a shattered unusable mess -- sometimes one that needed to be rebuilt almost from the ground up before it was useful again -- and who had the time for that? Stupid. Wasteful. There were better, even easier, ways… But why even bother with _any_ of that? Why not simply have a willing puppet instead? It wasn’t that hard! Especially if you **didn’t** need one _particular_ someone specifically, just a being in a nearby location and conforming to a type, and even the 'nearby’ wasn't always that necessary...)

Miz shuddered. "Sounds awful…" She imagined being grabbed and held down. No. No. Horrible, scary, won't let that happen again...

 _Was_ it awful? Bill pondered that one. --Wasteful _yes_ , but… Bill had to stop and think about that. "...Maybe?" he said after a while. "Sensation _does_ feel different this way," he noted, gesturing at himself. The sensations he'd been able to receive when wearing his puppets the way he had, had been a bit different than this. ...He’d never really thought about it that way before; before, _ANY_ sensation had been better than nothing. "Eh, still think they’re a bunch of whiners," he said after thinking on it awhile. Ford had caused him pain in his current human-ish body, and he hadn’t had any real problems handling it -- so was it _really_ all that different? He shrugged again. "I’ve Seen far worse," he said truthfully.

Miz shivered. "Seen it too. Still awful. There were some aliens I've met that would capture others, have their way with them and then kill them." She frowned ...and so did Bill. "Kid," he told her seriously. "It’s not the ones that kill that you really have to look out for. It’s the ones that DON’T."

Miz nodded. "I know." She looked around, noting the wide-open room was large, and the rafters were deep, but every single corner of it was well-lit with no real areas of shadow, despite the fact that the number of floating lights Bill had lit up here was hovering in the single-digits and the curtains were closed on top of that. "I don't know if that thing is still outside. C-can I stay with you until I'm sure it’s gone?"

"Yes," Bill told her. "You can stay as long as you like." He paused for a moment, as he got a feeling like something was missing from that, and then realized what it was. "And you can always come back whenever you want," he added, flicking open his knife again and easily carving a few lines and swirls into the wooden plank of the floor next to him. He flicked his knife closed when he was done, whispered a word, and with that he _permanently_ added her to the full-access permissions for this space. It was something that even Stanley didn’t have -- and once the process completed, Bill would have to remove every last rune and glyph in the room and start over from scratch completely, to take away her access after that.

Multiple sets of new runes scraped themselves into the walls, over and over and over again at each of the main regulatory control nodes, glowing brightly in sequence as they sprung into being, with that glow fading out slowly as those new runes connected into the larger whole and fed in their energy, while still others sprung into being and the process repeated. It took about a minute for the last set of corrections being forced into place around the room to finish being scraped in, powering up, and fading as they fell into taking on a more balanced control load.

Miz stared at the shifting power, understood what it meant, and gave Bill a grateful smile. "Thank you," she said. She paused. "Do... you know what that thing I saw was?" She sat down on a free spot and bit her lip.

Bill grimaced. "Yes. No. Maybe." He looked uncomfortable. Then he smiled at her. "You can sit anywhere, you know. --Dangle off the ceiling, even! You can't scratch or disrupt any of this without something like this." He flipped open his knife again, then flipped it in the air, to catch it by the blade and offer it to her handle-first. "I hardened everything. Part of the base setup. You could use anything else on the floor and the anything-else would break first," he told her as she took it from him. "Same with the rest of the walls. --You can ‘clone’ that if you want," he added as she looked it over. "Should work fine without disrupting anything intrinsic, if you do it the same way as you did the alcohol bottle." He'd tried to account for allowing that sort of thing with most of his tools, just in case he needed a quick-copy for himself or someone else in the future.

Miz nodded. She played with the knife a little, scanning it to understand how to connect to and modify the protections and enchantments in the room, before returning to the subject. "You...know what that thing was? Or at least, do you have a suspicion about it?" She asked quietly. She caught the words Bill and Stan had exchanged.

"‘Suspicion’ is more accurate," Bill admitted. He let out a breath, looked away from her, then looked back at her straight on.

"I died," he told her. Then he grimaced again. "At least, I _think_ I did. Probably."

Miz nodded. She knew that from her memories of canon, and this world, despite being quite different, felt like it had followed canon up to a point. "A memory gun right?" She clarified.

Bill blinked at her. "Yes." He made a gun-hand gesture, at his right temple. "I wasn't thinking clearly, because of my deal with that Stanford. I didn't Look before I leaped." He grimaced. "I made a Deal with Stanley, thinking he was Stanford, jumped into his mind instead. He wasn't letting me leave, even after I realized I was inside the wrong mind, and wanted to leave. I didn't get out before or during the shot that Stanford took with that _stupid gun_." Bill visibly shuddered. Loss of memory was loss of self, straight-up Death-with-a-capital-D, as far as he was concerned.

Miz shivered as well. The idea of memories being erased was horrifying. Her memories were all she had of who she was. She couldn't bear losing any of that. "I-I've Seen it with other Bills. It…" she paused. "Was that thing similar to that?"

"Not... exactly," Bill said. He looked uncomfortable again. "When everything was coming apart… _I_ was coming apart. I…" He shook his head hard, looking irritated. "I called its name." He didn't think he had to say more than that; he'd sent her the last part of his prophecy. He looked back up at her. "I don't know what my coming apart looked like from… the outside," he said, thinking of what Stanley had said. "But… I _was_ able to pull myself together after that. Somewhat. Mostly. I… I don't think I was that unstable, but…" Bill looked even more irritated and uncomfortable. "I reached out for Stanley, tried to grab him." He lifted a hand to his own forehead, tapped at it once, then drew a diagonal line across it, exactly where he'd started bleeding from outside. "He punched me right in the Eye." He grimaced. "I came apart at the seams. Couldn’t hold anything together."

Miz winced. Yeah. "You shattered… it looked awful." On the show it was a super cool moment, what with the triumphant soundtrack and everything, but knowing that it actually happened to someone. That must have sucked.

"Yes. It hurt too much. I lost cohesion." Bill sighed and dropped his hand to his lap. "But… I don't think everything had burned down yet." He grimaced. "I don't think there was any plucking, and I don't think I burned completely. It was hard to think, but…" he shook his head again. He looked grim and angry now.

"Well...from what I could See, Stan...grabbed a memory of an image of his family...before he finished burning. I...I don't know what happened inside his head after that."

"Finished burning, probably. That is his line. 'Don't mess with my family.’" Bill recited from memory. The line he didn't dare cross -- not without expecting _severe_ repercussions that he'd have to plan for carefully, to handle without dying again... or worse. "I DON'T think that stupid lizard actually intervened. --Because, ha, why SHOULD it?" Bill said with a great deal of derision, and it was clear that he was more angry with himself for having believed what he had, than actually angry at the Axolotl for having lied to him about it. Like he thought he should've known better, should have been smart enough to have questioned it sooner.

Bill let out another sigh, and rubbed the side of his hand against his right temple, back and forth. "Next thing I remember after that is waking up on the porch, like this," he gestured down at himself. "Except male." Stupid cultists.

Miz considered it. "There...was another dimension I've seen, in which Dipper and Mabel somehow managed to get into the Space Between Spaces and meet the Ax- ah...meet Ax." She commented. "And that Dipper asked Ax for information about Bill Cipher. He gave Dipper a prophecy, which mentioned something like 'One way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time’ which seemed to be the same prophecy that Seb had gotten hit with, considering his circumstances…" she frowned. "But I think the effects of that prophecy are actually different for different Bills."

She fiddled with her fingers. "What I'm trying to say is, what if Ax told you a different prophecy from the real one he decided to hit you with?"

Could Ax do that? Maybe? It was a scary thought. The idea that Ax would lie...well...he does. Or at least, he hides things from her. She knew he did. It annoyed her, how Ax treated her like a child who should be kept ignorant because she ‘wasn't ready’ to learn something. Augh...stupid Ax...she was plenty old enough to know stuff!

Bill let out a long breath. "If 'my’ stupid lizard rolled back time on any of my Zodiac…" Bill looked a whole new kind of pissed off. "It does that when you ask it questions, you know. Makes it so it NEVER HAPPENED. Cheats. --I'm almost certain." Bill paused for a moment, before trying to handle what had sounded to him like her higher-priority point. "I don't know if your iteration-piece of the stupid lizard does it differently -- if you get to pick your prophecy or even NOT have one AT ALL, I'm thinking YES, differently -- but…"

Miz sighed. "Ax said I could write it together with him and make something I'm happy with but I don't really know what to do. There are just so many ways things could go wrong." She kicked her feet a little. "He said that a confrontation with my Zodiac was pretty much a fixed point and a prophecy would ensure I wouldn't STAY dead if the worse comes to worse."

Not that she thought it would come to that. She wasn't going to harm the humans (at least she wasn't planning to do so) and they wouldn't have any reason to hurt her… right?

Bill pulled a face and leaned back away from her. "How would a prophecy ensure THAT? The stupid lizard’s prophecies aren’t SELF-FULFILLING. You have to WORK for them. --And you’d be giving it an IN to do WHATEVER IT WANTED to you, if you went with IT. There are NO guarantees that it will actually _help_ you." Bill frowned. "There are other ways."

Bill looked away from her. "Stupid lizard tells prophecies from the point of view of the listener, at least from what I’ve Seen. Anything I Saw that brought ME up as some PIECE of it seemed consistent with everything that it told me." He glanced back over at her. "Maybe it COULD have lied to me and EVERYONE ELSE about what my prophecy was, but _why bother?_ I BARELY made it out of there TRYING to follow what it DID give me! I WOULDN’T have FIGURED IT OUT on my own!" And Bill had really hated _that_ , too. The prophecy he’d gotten had been the ONLY way that he _MIGHT_ be able to escape his old decaying dimension, _eventually_. It hadn’t been even _close_ to self-fulfilling; it had barely been a _chance_ at all. --With the prophecy he had gotten, the damn lizard had damn near slammed every last form of exit that was possible firmly shut, locked the last door on him, and thrown away the key! "It didn’t HAVE to tell me. I could have STAYED stuck. Trapped. Unable to get out." It wasn’t as though Bill hadn’t effectively spat in the stupid lizard’s face and tried everything else he could think of to get out in the meantime, before the first verse had hit. But nothing else had worked. Nothing else had ever even come CLOSE to working. So he’d been stuck with that stupid prophecy in the end, trying desperately to figure out a way to make it work. "But YES. The effects are probably different because each of US are different, at least a little," Bill agreed with her. "We’re its experiments."

"Experiments?" Miz frowned. "For what? Making the perfect universe or something?"

"HA!" Bill laughed out. "Not unless it WANTS one of us to do what I’M planning on doing, _and_ KILL IT." Bill shrugged. "No idea what it’s trying to figure out from us. ...Well, maybe a few ideas. But what else would YOU call it? It CREATED us, it ISOLATED us, it WATCHES us, and it MESSES with us to see how we REACT to things."

Miz hummed. "Maybe it wants to see what it takes to make Bill Cipher...Bill Cipher? From what I can tell, we have different starting circumstances, even if they're similar."

"Maybe," Bill allowed. "But which one of us it’s trying to figure out is… it might be the demon-from-the-outside one of us, maybe. I don’t have PROOF, though." Bill looked annoyed. "I don’t have ANYTHING. --I didn’t even know FOR CERTAIN that there WERE other BILLS out there, until you and Seb showed up." He hadn’t really trusted his own memories completely, of what he had Seen, way back when, when everything had been burning. Not quite. --Not that he hadn’t known that he’d Seen what he’d Seen, but… _understanding_ what he’d Seen was different than remembering it and Seeing it in the first place. And his mental state had been in a very different place back then.

Miz blushed a little. "Ah, well I was born already knowing that other Bills existed. Kinda a weird moment for me...Y'know, the whole, already knowing about an alternate timeline and how I'm apparently supposed to die...but that was for a different Bill and thus far, I don't think I've done anything to push me towards his ending…"

"Who needs a push," Bill said dourly. "All you need is for your Zodiac to hate you and want you dead. You’ve got no control over that, really. It’s all how the lizard decides to set that up! Environmental." Then he hesitated. "Unless you decide not to have one. ...Why do you think you might need one?" he asked her. "Did tossing someone into the dimension and making a Deal with them to be able to enter it not work?"

"I can make a Deal with someone and possess them. Still can't get into the dimension physically, or doing much more than minor tweaks. My powers are… strained there. I can use magic just fine but my powers are another story, it's like… having to use the energy of an entire star just to move an atom, as opposed to just… thinking about it and reshaping the world around me." It was frustrating really.

Bill nodded, and perked up a bit. "Sounds about right on the weirdness front. --You might get a bit more mileage if you sit in your ‘Nightmare Realm’ and try and direct it through one of those ‘leaks’ instead. Not directly from the Mindscape sitting there locally."

Miz blinked. She did have that hole that led right into Gravity Falls. She never thought of that. "That's a pretty good idea… I should try that next time."

Bill smiled. "Magic working isn’t something that I had going for me; you could leverage that, too." He leaned back a bit. "My problem was, nothing where I was, was stable. I couldn’t anchor anything down to anything stable; all I could do was make things and hold them. As soon as I let go…" he grimaced. "Anything I made just started destabilizing immediately. My energy form would have been ripped apart trying to go through any unanchored and unregulated portal like that, and the connection was already gone the exact moment I might begin to try, as soon as I let go." And he couldn't very well hold a portal open while he was going THROUGH it, now could he?! "So MY portal had to connect from the outside in… except it was A LOT easier to just make a tear instead and slip the rest of myself in through THAT. Even a working stable-enough portal that wouldn’t SCREW UP my energy form would have been _nearly_ impossible. That’s why I… HMMMM, you could say BUILT IN a bit of ‘insurance’ into a certain portal design, as my fallback option," he told her, not quite stifling a laugh at the latter. Then he brightened up a bit. "But if YOU can perform magic in the 3rd dimension, you should be able to anchor a magic portal there stably, let go of it, and then COME THROUGH it from the ‘Nightmare Realm’ side! Or ANYPLACE else!" he told her, looking a bit excited at the idea of the possible workaround.

Miz bounced in place at the idea. This was why she missed talking to Bill. He had such amazing ideas. "Well I've already gotten in a few Deals for some of the humans on Earth to set up sigils for stabilizing and directing energy, built right into the foundations of their cities. It’ll give me an area to aim at."

Bill nodded at her rapidly, and they would have continued this line of thought if there weren't creaking wooden sounds. Someone was coming up the stairs. Miz looked over. Stan was making his way up, his heavy weight making the boards creak.

"Hey, you two," Stan called out. "Dinnertime, yeah?"

Bill blinked, then reached into a back pocket and pulled out his phone, tapped it and then stared at the time.

"Stupid time sense not working in this stupid body," Bill muttered, putting the phone away. He waved a hand to make the audio at the staircase opening two-way again and called out. "Coming down in a minute."

Miz got up. "Food!" She paused. "Uh...there isn't going to be Stan's hair in it right?" because that was a little unsanitary.

"Heh," they both heard emanate from the staircase.

"NO," Bill said. "That’s only for Stancakes." He sent a glare in the direction of the stairs. "I want to not have Miz eating hair in her food tonight."

"Yeah, yeah," they both heard Stan say with good-natured humor in his tone, along with a few more creaks here and there as Stan turned and started making his way back down the old wooden staircase again.

Miz glanced over at the stairs too. "Well that's good. Oh, has Stan enjoyed the Quarter I gave him?" She was also curious if the never ending chocolate liquor was still here… Mm…chocolate~

"I looked it over for him," Bill told her as he stood up himself. "But he hasn’t used it for anything yet. Not a lot of gambling in town here." Miz nodded and went over to descend the stairs, holding onto the wall as she went. She didn't want to fall down the stairs, it wouldn't kill her but broken bones were uncomfortable.

She took this time to look at the Shack more leisurely. The twin's room was down there, the stairs were old and creaky, would need to be careful if she wanted to sneak around here. Not that she was much for that. She was a guest here after all. Oh. She should probably ask Stan for permission.

The Shack was… old. It wasn't in disrepair but it definitely needed renovation. They probably didn't have the money for it… or, more likely, Ford didn't trust having workers over while Bill lived here. She could see areas of the house that had clearly been patched up after it was destroyed from all the misadventures that happened here. She ran a hand down a wall that she was SURE, had been used to construct the Shacktron.

This was so cool!

Would her own zodiac build a Shacktron? She wanted to see one. Giant robot! Giant robot!

Bill followed her down the stairs at his own pace -- not really rushing, but not exactly letting her get out of his sight, either. (He kept her in sight mainly because he wanted to have enough time to respond -- and _be able_ to respond immediately -- if that idiot Stanford showed up and tried to rush her, or some-such similar nonsense.)

Miz sniffed the air. Oh? What was this? Pizza? She hadn’t had Earth pizza in literally eons. Tail wagging behind her, she followed her nose into the kitchen and spotted Stan plating slices as Mabel helped. "Um… hello again!" Miz waved. She didn’t really get to greet everyone properly before. Mabel looked up and smiled. "Hi again!" She still wasn’t sure why Grunkle Ford was so worried about Miz. The body-eating thing had just been a prank! She’d seen worse ‘Kerpranks’ on TV, even! Miz was nice. Besides, she was a baby dragon. _So cute!!_

"What kinda pizza is that?" Miz walked up to look it over.

"Macaroni and cheese pizza!" Mabel cheered. "I shaped the macaroni into little smiley faces!" Miz tilted her head. "So we’re eating happy people? I can get behind that."

Dipper, already sitting down, groaned. "Please don’t say it like that."

"You want toast instead?" Bill half-offered, as he made his own way to the counter and the toaster. Dipper made a face, which Bill correctly interpreted as a ‘no’. "Suit yourself." He grabbed up the nearby bread-bag and pulled out two slices, to shove them in and twist the heat-timer on the toaster all the way up. Miz stared. Wow. Bill must like his toast extra crisp.

"Ford coming up?" Stan asked the younger twins. They exchanged a twin-telepathy glance, then Mabel shrugged at him. They didn’t know. Stan sighed heavily.

"You sit there," Bill pointed out to Miz, gesturing at his own chair. He figured the last thing either of them needed was that Stanford getting upset over his chair or Stanley's being ‘stolen’. She nodded and went over with her plate, grabbing an extra one for Dipper on the way over. "Here you go." She slid a pizza over to him as she sat down. Dipper blinked, not expecting her to serve him. "Ah, thanks." He glanced at it, and her, before shrugging and eating.

Bill turned and leaned his back up against the counter, letting him keep a good look over the entire room, in case that idiot Stanford showed up. Stan got himself his own slice of pizza and sat down at the table himself. They all ate in moderate silence for awhile, enjoying the food -- except Bill, who was still waiting on his toast. Miz was humming cheerfully as she nibbled on her slice, savoring the flavor of the cheese. It tasted like they used that mac and cheese powder stuff. So incredibly artificial! It was amazing how much humans could make food taste nothing like food was supposed to!

When the toast popped up the first time, Bill just turned slightly and shoved the lever back down, before turning back to the rest of them. Miz glanced over. Bill...really liked his toast crispy. Her head tilted when she heard footsteps. Ford came in, calmly, slowly. He was giving Miz and Bill wary glances but seemed a little put off when Miz blushed at the sight of him. He was even MORE put off when Mabel noticed and began looking back and forth between Miz and Ford.

Bill saw the looks and reactions going around, but didn’t understand the implications of what Miz’s blushing meant. He frowned slightly, looking over at Stanley, as the toaster popped up again. He turned and shoved down the lever a second time.

Stan just took one look between Miz and Ford and blinked hard.

Then Stan looked over at his brother. "What’d you _do_ , you knucklehead?" His brother had a crazy kid-looking kid- _acting_ human-demon falling for him, _why?_

"What? _\--Nothing!!_ " Ford protested. Miz ducked her head as her tailed curled and wiggled. Mabel had her mouth fall open as she realized, recognized that look. "OmiGOSH!"

"Uhhhhh..." said Dipper, who finally got what was going on from his sister’s reaction.

Mabel didn’t know whether to feel excited or grossed out. "You have a crush on Grunkle Ford?!" 

"WHAT." said Bill, as the toaster popped up Bill’s toast for the final time. The sound of it didn’t even register with Bill, but it did overwhelm the sound of his own voice a bit.

Miz squeaked and covered her face. "N-no! He...he’s just...setting off all my ‘cute nerd’ senses!!" She whined. Dammit! Why did he have to be her type?!!? She didn’t feel like this over the younger Ford she met. Something about the older Ford, with his graying hair, hardened look and distinguished wrinkles just...it hit somewhere deep inside her that made her poor little heart go Doki-Doki. Ahhhh! It’s not like she hasn’t been aesthetically attracted to people before! But it hasn’t happened in so long-and why did it have to be FORD again?!

Bill took the two steps forward he needed to, raised a hand--

\--and messed up the hair on the top of Miz’s head as much as he possibly could, while saying, "NO NO NO NO NO," with a _great_ deal of seriousness. "NO. --Say it. NO." Miz whined. "It’s not like I WANT to find him attractive!!!!" She wailed.

"Then PICK A DIFFERENT BODY that DOESN’T have whatever STUPID HORMONE problem that THIS ONE you’re CURRENTLY WEARING does!!" Bill told her, not quite letting up on the (Stanley-approved method, as far as Bill was concerned, of) penalizing you’re-doing-it-wrong hair-mussing yet. "That Stanford is NO GOOD FOR YOU. NO."

Ford looked quite insulted. "ExCUSE me?!"

Bill turned his head to glare over at him. "YOU HEARD ME." He looked back down at Miz. "I. Can find you. Someone SOOOOO MUCH BETTER. Just. Say. NO!"

"I’m not gonna go for him! He’s a jerkface! Even if he’s hot!" Miz protested. Dipper was covering his face and looking like he was going to combust. "Shutupshutupshutup…" He moaned in embarrassment.

Stanley looked like he did not quite know how to take this. So he passed it off to their resident triangle demon instead. "Kid."

Bill looked between Miz and Stanford. "It’s just a vision problem?" he asked Miz, to confirm. "What he LOOKS like?" Miz nodded slowly. "GOOD. Stay HERE." Bill turned to Stanley. "Give me your glasses." Stanley gave him a look, and after a momentary pause he took them off and handed them over. "WATCH HER."

And with that, Bill shoved open the kitchen window and practically crawled over the sink and out over the windowsill, as the closest and quickest exit to the outside of the house.

"Don’t know how I’m supposed to watch you without my glasses, all that well," Stan said, sounding a little amused, as he turned back to his food. "No touching my brother, okay?" he said to Miz. "He’s... shy." Ford made a strangled sound that didn’t quite come across as a protest. Miz scoffed and looked away.

"And way younger than you," Stan added after another bite of pizza. "I’m not interested in physical pursuits!" Miz protested. "I just... really like looking at him…" She blushed harder. "I’ve never even BEEN in a relationship before…" she whined. Mabel gasped, her matchmaking instincts rearing their ugly heads. Dipper immediately stood up and pointed at her. "No! Noooo! Don’t you EVEN dare Mabel!!"

It was that point that a grumbling Bill yanked himself back through the window and kicked himself out of the sink and up over the counter, to finally land on his feet on the floor proper. He was clutching two pairs of glasses. "Here." He thrust a pair of glasses back onto Stanley’s face, then turned towards Miz and held out the second pair, but then stopped for a moment and pulled them back to look at them again. "--Wait."

Stanley looked over at Bill and adjusted his glasses, but when he turned away and looked up at his brother…

Stanley went still for a moment, then ducked his head and let out a chuckling cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Bill, glowering and grumbling to himself, turned back towards Stanley, yanked the glasses the older Pines was currently wearing back off of his face, and shoved the other pair of glasses -- Stanley’s original glasses -- back to him instead. Then he passed the ‘ _right_ ’ new cloned-and-modified pair of glasses off to Miz -- the ones with the special barrier-and/or-weirdness-energy-driven-runeswork he’d just added to them that he was almost _completely_ certain would solve his little sister’s little issue for her.

"Here," Bill told her. "Wear THOSE."

Miz put them on and blinked a bit to adjust before glancing at Ford and doing a double-take. "Ah… he’s STILL hot as a woman," she commented, and Ford’s jaw dropped. Mabel gasped, "Wait, what?!" and jumped up from her chair, to run over and take the glasses from Miz to see for herself. Dipper had buried his face in his arms on the table by this point, groaning.

(Mabel missed how Bill’s eyebrows had gone up at Miz’s pronouncement, or Stan’s own partially-skeptical look at Miz.)

Mabel put on the glasses and blanched, snatching them off her face immediately. "Eeeew! That’s not it at ALL!!!" She gagged.

Miz was laughing as she kicked her little legs. "Ahahaha!!! Your FACE!" She snorted as she pointed at Mabel. Dipper looked up. "What? What did you see?" He demanded before grabbing the glasses Mabel threw down and putting them on himself. He screamed and snatched the item off his face. "What the _heck!?_ "

Miz was still laughing hysterically. "Oh man… you two… are too easy… ahahaha!" She took the glasses and put them back on. "This helps. A lot. No one can find THAT face attractive." She grinned. Bill looked pleased that his plan had worked. Ford, by contrast, looked very confused about what those glasses apparently made him look like.

"They make you look like Toby Determined, kinda," Stan informed his brother with a chuckle.

Ford colored. He made a sound of protest and opened his mouth to complain -- _why, exactly, was this necessary?!_ \-- but then he thought the better of it and just closed his mouth instead. After all, the current situation was better than having the man-eating dragon be attracted to… looking at him? She said she wasn’t into physical pursuits... so... at least he was safe on that front. He shuddered. This was worse than the Siren incident.

Miz coughed lightly. "Sorry about that. I… don’t know what came over me… didn’t react like this to another Ford I met… but he was around 30 years younger…" She paused. "Oh. I guess I’m not into children."

"...Said the 600-billion-plus-year-old dragon who looks and acts like a kid?" Stan put out there, as he dug into another slice of pizza.

Miz scoffed. "I’ll have you know that I’m sort-of-mostly an adult! I’m a big girl!"

Bill not-quite-groaned. "Kid, don’t even try that with him. I can’t even get him to call ME an adult."

"Because you aren’t one, you’re a kid," Stan stated simply, which had Bill huffing out a breath and looking a bit annoyed, but also tired.

"Says YOU," Bill said, turning away from them and walking back over to the toaster to retrieve his now finally _thoroughly_ burned toast. He pulled them two pieces out, dropped them onto a plate, and grabbed the lime jelly and pepper up off of the counter. ...The pepper went on first, a fork was used to grab and spread the jelly on after that, everything got cleaned up and put away (fork tossed in the sink, jar closed, pepper shaker pushed back into place), Bill flipped the ‘sandwich’ closed and hefted it up to his stupid human-ish mouth to take a big bite out of it.

Mabel was rubbing her eyes and muttering, "Wipe away the horror--" Ford wasn’t sure he wanted to know how bad he looked through those glasses. (The concept was fascinating -- and he _very much_ needed to know how Bill kept pulling off magic-like things inside the barrier, for more reasons than he cared to count -- but...) The fact that the dragon was now refusing to so much as glance in his direction didn’t make him feel very good about how hideous he must appear.

Ford shifted in place awkwardly, before finally making his way towards his own seat at the table. He was unconsciously playing with his hands a bit nervously as he did so, not quite pulling his sixth fingers under.

"Ford…" Stan said quietly, picking up on his twin’s distress. And that was enough for Ford to become aware of what he was doing. Ford mentally shook it off, squaring his shoulders, pulling out his chair, and sitting down at the table firmly, as though he had every right to be there and be unembarrassed.

He clenched and unclenched his hands under the table a few times to try and force himself to relax. "Don’t feel bad. I’m only wearing these because you’re too gosh darned handsome for your own good." Miz commented lightly. Unfortunately, that made Ford tense slightly all over again. But, with the threat of a man-eating dragon wanting to potentially eat him for how ‘good’ he looked somewhat addressed as not actually being an issue anymore, Ford was less panicked this time. And when the compliment finally registered, he looked over at her with a faint blush of his own, finally remembering his manners. "Uh… thank you?" he told her.

"Don’t even think about it, idiot," was Bill’s bland and immediate response to Ford’s words, before he took another bite of his usual meal-time sandwich.

Mabel finally looked up. "Soooo~" She said as she scooted closer to Miz. "You’ve never dated before?" Miz groaned and buried her face in her hands. "You sound like Pyronica… she’s always trying to drag me to a bar to pick up men…"

"So, you don’t want to find yourself a man?" Mabel asked. Miz sighed. "I’m asexual, and most of the multiverse… isn’t. And those who ARE, have no interest in romantic pursuits because their species is physically incapable of feeling such an emotional connection."

Mabel made a weird face. "Oh." She frowned. "That… sucks?" Miz snorted. "You have no idea. I’ve taken a more adult form before and… ugh… most of the people I met were like ‘Hey hot stuff~ I’d love to slather myself in butter and have you chew me up~’ which is both unsanitary and gross."

"Probably you shouldn’t be going bar-trolling with your ‘Ronnie, then," Bill put out there. "Trolls in bars who are all into being eaten are a thing."

"Yeah, that’s where she met her mate actually." Miz sighed. "She even dragged me along to watch her eat him. To be fair, he was way under her league and needed me to keep him alive long enough for her to--"

"--STOP," Ford said harshly, interrupting her loudly.

"Um… what?" Mabel said, completely confused by all of this.

Bill looked up at Ford, then rolled his eyes. "Right. The prude thinks other-species sexual intercourse is something to never-ever talk about, but Earth stuff is fine?" He turned to Mabel. "Shooting Star, think female praying mantis and mate."

"Oh." Mabel blinked. "Ohhhhhhhh…" She went a little wide-eyed. Dipper made an almost freaked out sort of noise as he belatedly realized what Bill had just implied.

"BILL!" Ford protested. "--What?" Bill said. "Biology!"

"It’s perfectly natural for her species!" Miz grumbled. "I mean, there’s a species out there who require a very specific type of rock jammed right up their-"

\--" _we do not talk about other dimensions in this house,_ " Ford said, cutting her off again, looking pale, and not all that well. Miz pouted but closed her mouth. "I think it’s interesting."

"...Only the ones that Stanford’s already talked about are fair game for me or anybody else," Bill told her, eyeing him. "And I’m betting that HE’D go for the loophole of: ‘the dimensions YOU’VE Seen aren’t _exactly_ those same ones that HE was in’." Bill ate the last bite of his sandwich, and turned away to face the sink and wash his hands off.

Miz hummed. "Well, if he’s so embarrassed by biology, I can tell you about the Pastries dimension. Their economy is entirely baked goods and sweets."

"--Not just biology," Bill said as he dried his hands off, hating that he had to interrupt her. "ANYTHING."

"Anything? Geez, he goes on a wacky space-hopping adventure for 30 years and doesn’t want to write down all of it into a book to publish as a hip new Sci-Fi series to make MILLIONS of dollars?" But when Miz looked over at him again, it was clear from how very sick Ford looked at the concept of writing much of anything of that experience down that, no, that _wasn’t_ something that Ford was ever going to do.

"....You can censor it?" Miz suggested, and it was clear from the look on Ford’s face that he’d mentally rejected that thought as soon as it had registered as well.

"He didn’t like it," Bill informed her, as he set up the tea kettle with water. "He REFUSED to like it." Miz looked legitimately confused.

"That _**wasn’t**_ \--" Ford began thunderously, shooting up out of his chair.

"I gave you EXACTLY what you wanted, and YOU decided AFTERWARDS that YOU didn’t like it." Bill repeated cuttingly, each word nearly bitten off as he said it. "Don’t blame ME that YOU DON’T LIKE what you want." He turned away from the stove. "YOU were the one who refused to CALL OFF OUR DEAL."

Ford stood rigidly, fuming in silence, fists clenched at his sides and shoulders straining as he _barely_ held onto his temper. Though if looks could kill…

Bill was glaring at him with a cold sort of anger right back.

Miz shuddered at the taste in the air.

"Sit down, the both of ya’," Stan told them both.

Neither of them sat down. (Bill didn’t feel like sitting on the counter, and Ford wasn’t sitting down again while Bill was standing and seeming to ignore what he’d heard his brother tell the demon to do.)

Miz looked around. "...Sorry for hitting a nerve?" Mabel sighed and patted her shoulder. "It’s… Grunkle Ford is a little…" She struggled to find the right word. Miz raised an eyebrow. "Triggered?" Miz asked.

"Inconsistent." Bill put out there. "The word you are looking for, Shooting Star, is _inconsistent_."

"Well… since cool stories about space are a no-go, what should dinner conversation be?" Miz asked. Mabel was immediately in her face again. "So you like nerds~?" Miz groaned. "I’m not exactly in the mood for a relationship right now. I’m not ready for that type of emotional investment."

"Thank god." they both heard Dipper mutter. Mabel sent her twin a disappointed look. Miz grinned. "But speaking of cute, single nerds… has Pacifica contacted _you_ recently, Dipper?" Miz asked of him, leading to Mabel giggling and Dipper flushing bright red. "--No. Nope. No. We are not talking about this!" he protested.

"Oh, she’s texted me a few times to ask if Dipper’s doing anything crazy that she could come over to laugh in his face about," Mabel laughed as she put in her own two cents on the current status of her twin’s relationship with a certain local heiress. Miz rolled her eyes. "She really sounds like a Tsundere." Mabel nodded. "I never thought about it like that, but you’re absolutely right!"

"Ford, c’mon, sit down," Stan said again, as the tea kettle started to whistle, and Bill turned away from his brother, breaking their glaring contest. Ford grimaced, not quite fighting with himself still at having been presented with Bill’s back like he didn’t matter... but Ford eventually gave in after a few more seconds and sat back down in his own seat at the table heavily.

Miz and Mabel were gossiping back and forth, giggling as they pointed at Dipper. "Ugh… it’s like the girls’ sleepovers all over again…" Dipper groaned. Mabel gasped. "Oh! I should call Grenda and Candy so we can all have a sleepover!"

"That isn’t safe with Bill here." was Ford’s near-immediate response. It took him only a moment longer to resituate his glasses and add, "You could perhaps sleep over at one of their houses though, instead?"

Mabel bit her lip, and glanced over at her Grunkle Stan.

"Ford, the kid did fine on Summerween," Stan said, looking over at him and Ford turned a glare on him

"Oh, yes," Ford said caustically, "A few hours on _one night_ with almost complete supervision and immediate consequences sure to follow. _Surely_ we can trust him with--"

"-- _Ford_ ," Stan said warningly.

"You said it yourself, Stan," Ford continued on, looking his brother directly in the eye. "You don’t care about anyone else."

There was silence at the table for a moment.

"How badly do you think of your own brother?!" Miz turned to Ford with a horrified look. "Do you… are you SERIOUSLY sitting there, looking at your own BROTHER and telling him that you believe he would allow harm to come to Mabel’s friends?!" 

"Shooting Star and Pine Tree, Question Mark, Red, and Melody," Bill listed off, as he poured himself a cup of hot water. "They’re part of the agreement I have with Stanley. Protected. That Stanford is _somewhat_ protected because of the strings of consequence from Pine Tree and Shooting Star." They all took priority; Candy and Grenda, that monster, weren't even on the list, just barely dangling off the edges of it by a few loose strings, though Bill had never confirmed that with them. He glanced over at Miz. "That Stanford is obsessed with Deals and contracts."

"You break them all the time!" Stanford pointed out with a righteous anger that had never really gone out. "Don’t pretend that you _care_ or are doing this for _any other reason_ than to--" He stopped talking when Stan stood up and put a warning hand on his shoulder, but only just.

"...so ...the man who hates Deals and doesn’t even want to complete his side of it, still puts stock in them? And from what I’ve SEEN, it was YOU who broke your Deal, not Bill," Miz mused. "--No," said Bill, correcting her before Ford could even begin to protest. "That wasn’t what happened. And he doesn’t put stock in them. He never has." He took a sip of his tea with almost zen-like serenity.

Miz looked confused. "I’m obviously missing something here." She looked back and forth between Bill and Ford (twitching a little when she saw the Toby-fied Ford).

Bill sighed and lowered his cup of tea to about chest-level.

"He let me into his mind whenever he was asleep, if I wanted to be there, to use his body to do whatever I needed to do to help him," Bill told her. "That part of our Deal was a bit cyclic, in terms of each of us getting what we wanted." He looked up at that idiot Stanford. "The addendum was the problem." He looked back at her. "But I did agree to it." Miz tilted her head, wanting to learn more so she wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes once she got to meet her own Ford.

"The problem," Bill said almost ponderously, "Is that in the Mindscape, and in the way that I do Deals, the words are really the _out_ ," he told her, looking down at his teacup. "The _actual_ Deal, each side of it, isn’t the words, it’s the set of thought-concepts _behind_ those words. The words are the bare minimum, and the trick, to get out of whatever you need to get out of, or complete whatever you need to complete. And, if all else fails, ha," he shook his head. "I always make sure I remember to want to include the three-times-call-it-off for ending it, so I can always use it when I need to, whenever I want to, even if I don’t always TELL my ‘clients’ about it. And I can get away with that," Bill told her, "Because nobody I’ve ever made a Deal with has ever thought of it as being _actually_ never-ending, ‘ **no matter what** ’." He looked up at Ford, capturing his gaze for a moment. ( _'Until the end of time.'_ Ford himself was frozen in place, feeling a little like he was caught struggling in a spider's web. --It was only just occurring to him now, listening to Bill talk, that he'd never actually _asked_ Bill how Deals actually worked.)

Bill looked back to Miz. "Deals between demons and others aren’t ever made between two sides that can actually trust each other to keep up their side of it, without being locked into things like that," Bill told her. "--If they did, they wouldn’t be making a Deal in the first place; they’d just make each other a set of promises and be done with it. Deals have almost no flexibility at all to them, even if you know exactly what you’re doing." Bill let out a sigh and made a ‘waving off’ motion with his hand a bit. "And that’s the problem with Deals here, you see. They’re meant to force the resolution that each party wants, even if they change their minds later. Each side can feel whether what the other is offering is what they want, or if it’s something that they’re opposed to instead, before they agree. And that’s the part that ISN’T a trick," he told her. "When you shake hands and agree with giving what you’re offering, and taking what’s being offered to you... at least at the beginning of everything, when you first make that Deal… you HAVE to MEAN IT."

"Interesting… your Deals work differently from mine." Miz tilted her head, a gesture that looked eerily similar to some of the head tilts that Bill sometimes made. Ford twitched. "For me, I can twist the wording right up until I shake their hand, sometimes they catch on and will make me reword it, but most of the time, people don’t really pay attention and I can do whatever I want."

"Because you’re there in person," Bill told her. "And probably plugged into the karmic cycle, from what I read that you wrote. But _I_ made all my Deals in the Mindscape," he told her. "Twisting words might be good for the out, but the actual DEAL that you have to be ‘okay with’ and MEAN to complete at the time that you agree to it… is VERY clear, when you do things there, between minds, whether you want it to be or not. --It can’t NOT be."

He paused for a moment to take another sip of tea -- in a motion that really looked more like something someone would use to kick back a shot of vodka. Then Bill turned and set the empty cup down in the sink, _just so_. "And when that Stanford Pines made that Deal with me, what he wanted -- what he added to it -- _wasn’t_ just that he wanted me to be HIS friend," Bill told her. "He wanted me to WANT to be his friend." Bill turned to look at her, and there was something of a fury in his eyes. "And that Stanford’s definition of a ‘friend’ ISN’T mutual. Not. in. the. least."

Miz looked horrified. She turned to Ford, who looked shell-shocked in general at the moment. "You… you fucked with Bill’s free will?!" She was disgusted. "No, that's-- he-- he could have said no," Ford blurted out, looking panicked for a moment before he realized that, yes-- "He could have said no!!" Ford repeated angrily, and was only growing angrier by the second.

Stan, on the other hand, didn’t lose that look of blank shock. "Kid…"

"It’s fine," Bill said, waving it off with a hand. "It all worked out. I’m out." He gave Stanley a grin. "It’s fine!" (Dipper and Mabel exchanged looks at this.)

Miz was glaring at Ford now. "Even I’VE never fucked with someone’s free will! That’s like… the lowest thing anyone can do-"

"--He _chose_ it, freely!" Ford spat back at her, but he was more than a little wide-eyed as he turned back to Bill, because it wasn’t as though he hadn’t _immediately_ understood the implications of what Bill had just said, when he’d said it -- that Bill had been literally _unable_ to stop wanting to keep to their deal on his own, once he’d agreed to it and shook hands with him on it. He'd been _unable_ to stop trying to be… and he thought friends were-- but _demons_ thought ‘ _friends_ ’ were-- " _Why didn’t you just say no!?!_ " Ford not quite shrieked out at him. But all Bill did in response to Ford was simply to look over at him and blink at him. "Because I was getting out," Bill told him. Ford, still wide-eyed and now at a loss for words, looked like he had no idea what Bill was talking about.

All that really registered through all of the shock, to Ford, was the fact that he’d been able to tell when Bill was lying for a very long time now -- and right now, he was certain that _Bill hadn’t been lying about anything he'd just told them at all_.

"Kid," Stan said slowly. "I got a question for you."

Ford froze in place where he was seated for a moment, craning his head to look up at his brother, and Bill looked over at Stanley as well.

".......Yes?" Bill said almost suspiciously, because he’d learned what _that_ particular tone meant was coming from previous uses in the past, and he’d _never_ liked the questions he’d gotten after that, yet.

Stan took a moment, to figure out how he wanted to put what he wanted to say. "What do you think would have happened if, when you and Ford were all buddy-buddy," and Stan ignored the sound that came out of Ford at that, "You’d told him that, y’know, you were stuck in a really horrible place, and you needed to get out of there, or you were going to die?"

Bill blinked at him.

"What?" Ford said, and then he seemed to realize-- and he went absolutely dead pale. "I-- I--" Miz face palmed. "Bill was trapped in a decaying dimension. If you’re so smart, use your damn head to realize what that means!" But Ford hardly heard her. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that...

"...Oh, Axolotl," Ford said, his voice as hollow as a ghost. "I would have said yes." He sounded absolutely horrified at the very thought. "I-- I would have--" He turned even paler. "...Breathe, Ford," Stan told his brother, turning to him and rubbing that hand on his brother’s shoulder across both shoulders. He hadn’t meant to freak his _brother_ out. That wasn’t--

Bill was looking back and forth between them, uncomprehendingly. Miz sighed and reached over to gently take Bill’s hand. "Brother, this is one of those… human things. You see, for most humans, if they hear that someone they are friendly with is in a dangerous place and need help, they will help them." She sighed. "If you told Ford the truth, that you wanted to escape your decaying dimension, he would have gladly helped you out."

"No, he wouldn’t," Bill told her, pulling his hand away from her slowly. "He didn’t care about me at all. Nobody does," he told her, like that was obvious, just a fact of life. But then he tilted his head at her, and blinked for a moment again as he remembered ‘little sister’ -- a sister would care about him -- and he straightened up a bit. (Ford, on the other hand, looked like he was having trouble breathing where he sat. He was still stuck on the idea of _what would have happened if Bill had done that back then_.)

Miz sighed at Bill. "Ok, it’s… a human thing. If you had said ‘Oh gee, I’m kinda dying the longer I stay here, please help me get out,’ he WOULD have said yes. Humans pack bond to things super easily."

Yes, Bill knew that. He'd taken advantage of that on several occasions! (It was HILARIOUS, really, how stupid they all were for continually giving in to their biology and _falling_ for that!) That wasn't the issue; the issue was…

"But I wasn’t dying there." Bill looked at her oddly. "I could have stayed there and kept collapsing dimensions into it to get more space and time to work with. I would have survived for as long as I wanted to, as long as the stupid lizard kept spinning up dimensions for me to break. I just needed to get OUT."

Miz sighed. "But you were in a place that was dangerous. You needed help. And at that point, Ford would have been happy to help you." She paused before glancing over at Stan. "What was it that Stan called it… presentation and packaging?"

Bill frowned at her, looking frustrated. He hadn't needed that for mind-to-mind things in the Mindscape; he had been able to read thoughts and respond to them perfectly well! He gestured at Stanford.

"Just because he _acts_ like he _thinks_ he would have let me out back then, doesn’t mean that he _actually_ would have done it!" he told her. "He’s INCONSISTENT. --I’d tell him to do things, and he’d do something else," he told her. "I’d tell him to slow down, he didn’t need to go that fast, and he’d just speed up. I’d tell him to put up more shielding around the lab, and he’d leave it out. I’d TELL him NOT to listen to that idiot Fiddleford, and _what did he do?_ " He turned his head and glared at Ford, who was holding his head in his hands where he was sitting, muttering to himself, with the rest of his family beside him, quietly talking him down.

"That’s just ‘cause he’s stupid." Miz said blandly.

Stanley frowned at where this seemed to be going and turned to the kids, who both looked equal parts angry and horrified by what Miz had just stated outright as though she thought it were a fact. And Stan had a bad feeling that this was only going to get worse. "You two should go up to your room," Stan told them both under his breath. "Work on that slumber party idea." Both of them _knew_ what he was doing -- they were smart kids -- and both of them looked ready to argue with him stubbornly about it, even with him giving them both the same look he’d given them when the zombie apocalypse had happened, when he’d told them to go upstairs then. So instead he broke down and tried something different this time. "This… isn’t gonna go well," he levelled with them both.

"Then make them stop," Dipper told him, sending a long look over at Bill and the ‘dragon lady’.

"--Prideful, impatient, thinks he knows better and too stubborn to take the advice of other people because he _thinks_ he knows best," was what Miz said next.

Stan clenched his jaw. "Yeah, maybe Bill might do that, if I told him 'stop’," Stan told Dipper -- though at this point, Stan knew even that one would be an uphill battle, and a bad idea. (The kid had started out trying to _stop_ Miz; technically, Bill had taken Ford’s side in this, even if he was screwing it up and doing it all wrong. Telling the kid to stop now wasn’t a good idea; it’d leave the kid thinking he _shouldn’t_ try to defend Ford the next time something like this happened. ...Hell, the kid probably would have realized by now what he was doing and stopped on his own, if the other one would just stop already.) "But that one ain’t stopping." Stan grimaced. "You got any ideas on that?" Dipper grimaced as well. --Yeah, it was pretty obvious that him and his sister didn’t have any ideas for how to stop a literal dragon, not without basically attacking her with grappling hooks and guns and trying to run her off, and _that_ wasn't gonna end well. "I don’t want either of you down here hearing things Ford isn’t gonna want you to hear, and he’s gonna need you upstairs waiting for him with a hell of a lotta hugs when all this is over."

"--YES!" Bill told Miz. "And what do you THINK would have happened if I would have told him that? What Stanley just said, when he’s like that?" He waited for her response.

"Go," he told them, "He ain’t ready to move yet, and you two ain’t carrying him upstairs." (And Stan couldn't just drag him away himself; he needed to keep an eye on the kid, and who knew what would happen if he left the room to just the two demons fighting, or if the human-demon saw them leaving the room and tried to follow them.) To Stan’s relief, levelling with the two of them actually worked; they both looked at each other, then they both looked up at him and visibly backed down. ...They looked pretty disappointed in him, but they _did_ still back down.

Stan still watched to make sure that they both left the room and really went upstairs, though. And Stan didn’t miss how Mabel still glanced between them all before biting her lip and getting out of the kitchen. Dipper followed, giving Ford some worried glances, and something more of a glare up at Stanley as he went, and, well, yeah, he probably deserved that for letting things get this far.

"He would have thought of how much of a hero he would be, how noble he would have been, to rescue his ‘muse’," Miz responded back to Bill, and neither of them had even noticed that the kids had left. (That was when Stan knew that this was going to be _really_ bad.)

"No!" Bill told her, irate. "He would have done THE OPPOSITE! Because THAT’S WHAT HE DOES!! That’s what he DID!" he snarled out at her.

"No. He acted the way he did, he betrayed you because he _thought_ you betrayed him first, and the next 30 years and even now, was his pride and spite trying to hit you back where it hurts to hide the fact that you hurt his feelings." Miz sighed. "I _could_ be wrong but from what I’ve seen in your interaction here, that’s what it seems like."

("Breathe, Ford," Stan told his brother again, as he felt his brother’s breath hitch through the hand he had on his shoulder. He moved it to Ford’s back. "Just breathe." He’d hoped that his brother would speak up and defend himself at some point, but now? It didn’t look like that was gonna be happening; not today. He was too stuck inside his own head and inside of the coulda-woulda-shoulda’s and _coulda-gones_ to get as loud as he probably needed to outside of it. ...And trying to stop the kid right now, when he was actually trying to correct his little sister in her thinking of Ford as badly as she did, would be a mistake. It might help Ford out _now_ a little bit, but in the longer run? Correcting the kid on things he’d said or done only really worked on the kid _after_ the kid had decided that he’d finished doing something; any time Stan had started to try calling him out in the middle of whatever never really worked. It was too fluid for the kid, and a problem, because Bill _always_ thought that he would have gotten wherever Stan was talking about on his own, in just a little bit, if Stan hadn’t just interrupted him, the little...)

(And Paul Bunyan and his big blue cow help him, if Stan tried intervening in the middle of this mess at exactly the wrong time and got verbally attacked by these two... Yeah, he’d give as good as he got, _easy_ \-- that wasn’t the problem, not by a longshot. The _problem_ was that, if that happened, it’d be a 50-50 shot whether Ford would get pissed off and defensive enough to draw his gun and start shooting at the demons, over them trying to verbally ‘hurt’ or attack or threaten _Stan himself_ …)

"I," Bill told her, "Gave him _EVERY LAST PIECE_ of that portal. I gave the math to him outright. I seeded his _dreams_ with the rest. He KNOWS that it came from me," Bill informed her. "ALL OF IT came from me!" Bill exclaimed. "And his PRIDE," he spat out, glaring at Ford again, "Would have had him REFUSING to have me come here, because he _would not have wanted to share the credit,_ " he told her with a flat sort of anger.

Miz made a frustrated sound before taking a deep breath and continuing. "That’s because he’s selfish. He’s got a huge self-esteem issue that he tries to hide by pretending he’s better than everyone else because if he allowed himself to acknowledge it, he would spiral into depression, self-loathing and all that fun stuff. So he feels a need to take all the glory for himself as a way to make himself feel like he’s worth more than being the ‘freak’ that everyone saw him as when he was a child." Miz said patiently.

"Which is half the reason he acts the way he does," she continued. "He liked it when you praised him for being smart, it fed his ego. Then he finds out you only approached him for the portal and he started thinking that all the nice things you said to him were a lie, because in his mind, if someone lied to him ONCE, betrayed him ONCE, then they were now his enemy and couldn’t be trusted." She pointed at Stan. "Like FUCK, the whole 'thing’ about how Stan broke his stupid science fair project BY ACCIDENT was something he refused to let go for over 40 years. He held onto a PETTY grudge on his own BROTHER, who had spent their entire childhood protecting him from the people who insulted him, and after this ONE incident, he rejects Stanley for over 40 years out of pure spite."

"Yes. No. Your logic is flawed," Bill told her. "He’s selfish. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself." He hesitated for a moment. "He cares about Pine Tree and Shooting Star now," he self-corrected, for clarity. " _Maybe_. --Not the point, he didn’t _then_ ," he told his little sister, who was _clearly_ having trouble parsing the current and past situation. So he was going to have to help her with it, straight-through, step-by-step. "He is selfish. He cannot be selfish and WANT to help me. He would NOT do it. --He might have said so at first," Bill told her. "-- _Maybe_."

Bill shook his head and continued. "But it would NOT have taken him very long to realize EXACTLY what would have happened once I was OUT of that portal and HERE. --Because I am BETTER THAN HIM and HE KNOWS IT. -- _Yes_ , he has a ‘huge self-esteem issue’ and _yes_ he ‘needs to take all the glory for himself’ and he would KNOW that HE COULD NOT DO THAT if I was HERE WITH HIM, because he CANNOT HANDLE IT." Bill explained to her. "And I wasn’t able to THINK clearly when that whole ‘oh, you BETRAYED ME’ thing went down," he informed her, rubbing the side of his hand against his right temple. "Because I KNOW what friends are SUPPOSED to be like, and HIS idea of ‘friends’ was more like a _sibling_ he could treat like they were FAMILY instead, taking and taking and taking and never worrying about having to GIVE ANYTHING BACK to, who you NEVER had to care about or want to do anything for in return, so when HE was all ‘you betrayed me’ and angry, I couldn’t THINK anything but that he didn’t MEAN it, because if I had BELIEVED that, then I WOULDN’T have WANTED to keep BEING HIS FRIEND," Bill fumed.

"Instead, because of that STUPID DEAL," Bill spat out at her, "I KEPT THINKING that he _would_ want to let me through," Bill told her. "That it would be a _nice surprise_ for him if I did, that he would LIKE it and BE HAPPY once I was actually there, why would I even need to say anything to him about it when I didn’t know how long it would take to make the PORTAL work properly, why would he even CARE if I used a 'Rift’ I’d designed into those equations and plans as a shortcut, THAT would just mean that I would be there FASTER, he LIKED FASTER, _CLEARLY_ I had been wrong about him not wanting me to be there before, _OF COURSE_ he would want me there, we were ‘FRIENDS’ and I would be MORE USEFUL TO HIM there. -- _HERE._ And--" Bill came to an abrupt stop, panting slightly, looking like he had a horrible pounding headache going.

Miz sighed and turned to Stanley. "Well, what do you think, sir? He’s YOUR brother. Though I will say, if what Bill says is true about what Ford thinks a sibling is supposed to be, I’d say you’re a goddamn saint to put up with him."

(Ford was still in the process of taking deep breaths. He’d been hearing what Bill had been saying for most of that, but hadn’t quite had the strength to leave the room. The soothing hand his brother had on his back had been helping, though. Stanley wasn’t tense at all.)

Stan just eyed Bill and said, "What do you want from me, dragon-lady? Kid’s insane. That stupid deal thing just made him _more_ insane. He can’t even think about it properly without looking like his head’s gonna explode," he said, gesturing with his free hand at Bill. "And I _know_ he was trying to get around it any way he could to hurt him while it was going on. --Hell, the kid’ll even tell you that, if you ask him. He told _me_." He frowned her. 

"But hey, you want my two cents, right? Well, here it is. --The whole thing was messed up, start-to-finish, and my brother didn’t deserve what happened to him. Nobody did anything like even listen to that triangle demon a trillion years ago, or a billion years ago, or a million years ago -- or _whatever_ , pick a time -- or even think like trying to help him get his head halfway screwed on straight, outta that place and maybe even a little less crazy, might be a good idea, so he wouldn’t be making a bunch of big old weird problems for any of _us_ or anybody else later. _So what._ " He looked over at Bill. "The kid’s here now, he’s out now, all the deals he’s ever had are off, and we’ll figure out where to go from here. He’s got the wrong idea about a lot of things, but that’s why I’m _teachin’ him stuff_ ," he said, and the last was far more directed at Bill then at her.

"--And _you’re_ making things a hell of a lot harder here than they need to be," he told her, looking not real happy with her just then. "You think I wasn’t working either of them up to working their way through this? Getting them to figure out exactly what the hell went wrong, so we _won’t_ do that again ever? --You ain’t helpin’ here, tryin’ to force the kid through this," and hurting his brother in the process, but it was clear that the dragon-lady didn't care about that, so he didn't even bother go bring it up for her to scoff at or argue about -- like the kid usually did about all things Ford. Besides, Stan had enough problems with the fact that… "He’s not gonna believe you, even if he listens to you. --Look at him," Stan said, jerking his head towards Bill. "You think he’s doing anything but _hearing_ you?" He looked at her with no small frustration, and with the way Stan’s jaw was clenched, he looked like he wanted to punch something, or some _one_.

Miz shrugged. "Sanity’s overrated anyway." She sighed at the look Stan gave her for that comment, then she looked legitimately apologetic, not meaning to cause such a huge argument. "Well, I think this is one of those situations where no-one is in the right. Sorry for messing up your plan. I’m kinda a ‘just confront the issue head on’ sort of gal. I’m gonna leave you to it… sorry…"

Stan barked out a laugh. "Right. Force the stubborn knucklehead and the stubborn triangle kid to confront each other head-on on something and expect them _not_ to dig in their heels that much harder, then go ahead and ‘leave’ the whole mess to somebody else to clean up and fix, running away when everything gets too hard and doesn’t work all that well for you. _Great_ plan, there. --Think I’ll stick with the kid’s plans instead," Stan told her with a dark and bitter sort of almost-amusement, and a glare. (Because hell, at least the kid tended to double-down on things and try again a different way, approaching things from a different angle, instead of just giving up on things and running away. It was one of the _very_ few things he almost actually respected about the demon: the kid didn't ever give up on the things he really wanted. If Bill wanted something, the kid went for it. Even if he was a damn little jerk.)

She sighed again. "Is there a… better topic of discussion that would be more friendly in this situation?"

\--The hell? Was the demonic dragon-lady _really_ just brushing everything she’d just done here off, like it was nothing? "...You want to try and help? --Take the kid back upstairs and get as chatty with him as you like," he snapped out at her. "Let me deal with the fallout here on my own. Pretty sure you’ve done _enough_ damage for one night." He pressed down on his brother’s back with just a bit more pressure.

Miz nodded and got up to take Bill’s hand. "Come on big brother, I can tell you about that dimension I found in which Bill Cipher is an actual Bee…" She led him out of the kitchen. "It’s kinda crazy, you know there was a college-aged Dipper there too…"

Bill let her drag him upstairs, but he was stone-faced almost, and wasn’t saying anything.

"Stanley…" Ford said to his brother softly, almost tremulously.

"No," Stan told his brother. "You’re not like that. They’re both wrong about you. --I told you, kid’s got an idea of you in his head that just doesn’t match--"

Bill and Miz didn’t hear the rest of it, as they vanished up the stairs to the attic.

\---

"--kid’s got an idea of you in his head that just doesn’t match who you _really_ are," his brother told him, and Ford felt weak. Sick. He was shaking slightly in place.

Head still bowed, Ford clasped his hands together in his lap and pressed them together. He focused on his breathing, trying to suppress his shivers.

"...I know I’m not… like that…" Ford said quietly, closing his eyes. _‘Stupid, prideful, impatient, thinks he knows better … too stubborn to take the advice of other people because he_ thinks _he knows best … betrayed you because … you hurt his feelings ... self-loathing … take all the glory for himself … the freak … fed his ego ... held onto a petty grudge on his own brother, who had spent their entire childhood protecting him from the people who insulted him … out of pure spite.’_ If it had just been Bill… it would have been easier to say ‘no, that’s not me’. It was harder to hear it from someone else. But the dragon-girl had almost certainly constructed her present understanding of him from tainted information from Bill, so…

"That’s not the problem," he quietly told his brother. What he was like, who he _really_ was... was _far_ worse than that...

"Ford," his brother told him gruffly. "You _wouldn’t_ have let the kid through." Ford flinched, but opened his eyes and looked up at Stan, smiling weakly, though it pained him to do it.

"Stanley, I would have," he said, feeling horrible about it. "I was a fool. I was completely fooled by him back then." He felt bile rise in his throat as he admitted. "I would have willingly let him out. _Gladly_ , even." He swallowed hard. "And then…" Weirdmageddon, except half the Zodiac hadn’t even been born yet. There would have been no stopping him. And without the metal plate in his head to keep Bill from getting into his mind, the equation for the universal theory of weirdness would have been Bill's for the taking, and then...

"-- _No_ , you knucklehead," Stan ground out at him, sitting down on the side of the table, and leaning down to peer at him almost straight into his face. "You would have said yes _at-first_ , and changed your mind later before it got that far." Ford stared up at him, feeling a vague horror that his brother had just repeated what Bill had-- " _Because the kid wouldn’t have been lying to you,_ " Stan told him next, rubbing that firm callused hand over his shoulder again. "You would have known what he was actually like. --You wouldn’t have been okay with him coming through if all he was gonna do was rip up and destroy the place. Even _I_ know that, and I’m just a dumb old con-man."

"You are _not_ a dumb, old--" Ford started to say, then had to stop, because Stan teased him about that every blasted time, about how he wasn’t ‘old’, huh? And who wasn’t a ‘con-man’? It left Ford turning his head away from him slightly, fighting the weak smile that threatened to break out.

"Heh," his brother said anyway, and Ford adjusted his glasses as he turned back towards his brother to gave him a long, narrow-eyed, ‘I know what you’re doing there’ look.

"C’mon," Stan said to him, clapping him on the shoulder. "Who’s gonna listen to what a couple of demons think of you?"

"Couple of--" Ford blanched and straightened in place. "That man-eater is a--" ...Oh, Axolotl. He should have known. _Of course_ the only sort of ‘person’ that Bill would truly be able to make friends with, and argue with on equal footing _without_ things coming to blows would be another demon. _Of course_ she was a demon. He should have realized it sooner, from her behavior; it was completely characteristic of, and entirely consistent with--

"Relax," Stan told him, "The kid’s riding hard on her… well, mostly," as if this were a reason to relax instead of panic!

"Stanley, I _told_ you what demons are like!" Ford flatly reminded him. Had he forgotten somehow? Or simply discounted-- "You yourself do not want Bill talking with his Henchmaniac demons, because--"

"--they were a _bad influence_ on him," Stan said, and Ford stared up at him in disbelief, because... Stan thought _they'd_ been a bad influence on _Bill?!?_ "This one cares about junk like free will, and used to be human before she went all demon or whatever, however that works."

"Used to be--?! That’s not--" _possible!_ , Ford almost blurted out, except that demons had to come from somewhere. --But how did that explain her being supposedly more than 600 billion years old? She clearly had not spent any of that time with Bill in the Nightmare Realm, with the way they argued with each other. And how did any of that account for her possibly having been human? Their own universe was only a little less than 14 billion years old as it was (...and really, in retrospect, that and the talk of Deals really should have been a big clue as to her actual classification).

Unless… --There was that theory that when the universe ended, it would restart again from the beginning, wasn’t there? If she could travel between different dimensions -- and Stanley had indicated that she had done so to leave last time via a ‘doorway’ of some sort (one that had _not_ quite shown up properly on the Shack’s security footage) -- she could have left one of the previous iterations of _this_ universe for other dimensional waters, as it were, and kept on dimension-hopping until...

At the time, Ford had discounted what Stan had said about what he'd thought the ‘door’ had been as either some sort of bragging posturing from the dragon, or the dragon herself not actually knowing how it worked, confusing entirely separate dimensions with pocket dimensions, or a different layer of reality. But it would explain quite a lot if she had: Ford hadn't been able to track down _any_ information about her or her companion after the fact. She'd seemingly vanished into thin air afterwards.

"Ford, she’s the dragon-lady that the kid met last time, but she’s also the used-to-be-human-demon that the kid's been writing to on his phone," Stan told him, and yes, thank you, he’d realized that once Stanley had said she was a human-demon. He'd even become suspicious earlier when Bill had talked about reading things from her; the confirmation hadn’t been entirely necessary. He gave Stan a hard look.

"Stanley, you have _no idea_ how dangerous demons actually are," he informed his brother.

"Yeah, I remember what all you told me," Stan said. "But she ain’t here to kill anybody. She’s here because she’s trying not to be killed."

"That’s even worse!" Ford insisted. "That means that some demon _even worse than her_ is after her--"

"--and we’ve got both her and the kid here to handle it," Stan told him and Ford scoffed at this. Bill would _hardly_ be a help under such circumstances. --Even if he weren’t almost entirely suppressed with Stan currently holding his weirdness energy reserves from him, Bill would have no reason to help them, or keep any demons at bay, should they come calling. He'd just laugh about the whole situation, finding it hilarious to watch. Unless…

Ford paled. "--Stanley, you did _not_ make a Deal with him to allow him the use of his full set of powers if--!!"

"--Damn right I'm letting him," Stan said, leaning back to cross his arms and cut him off. "The kid don’t want anybody jumping in here, messing around, any more than we do."

"Counterpoint: _Weirdmageddon_ ," Ford all but spat out at his brother, with no small frustration. " _And_ this new demon who is _already_ here right now!"

"The dragon-girl--"

"Oh, I thought she was supposed to be a human-demon," Ford corrected him nastily.

"--human-demon- _whatever_ ," Stan said, not missing a beat, "Ain’t running around killing anyone. And I’ve talked out why the kid brought those ‘friends’ of his through that rift thing the first place with him already, Ford. --Why do you think none of them are here, right now?" he told his brother, feeling frustrated that Ford seemed to keep almost willfully missing the damn point. "It ain’t like he can’t create portals wherever he wants; you _know_ that now," Stan said, speaking of the ‘anti-Bill’ and the dimension with the ‘nice’ Ford. --And damn if Stan hadn’t almost lost the kid to _that_ Ford over something as stupid as asking after if the kid was ‘doing well’, offering for the kid to visit and stay if he wanted, brushing off the kid’s past so long as he wasn’t planning on collapsing their own dimension, and handing the kid what the kid had thought was a good cup of tea.

The asshole had hit on damn near everything Stan had offered the kid, and he’d done it near-flawlessly on-sight. Stan was pretty sure that the only reason the kid had come back with the rest of them after the ‘visit’ had been that _they_ were his Zodiac -- not that Ford -- and _probably_ the idea of the constant annoyance of that ‘anti-Bill’’s presence if he did stay there… and the discomfort Mabel had been feeling over there. (Leaps and bounds there, between the two of ‘em, really.) Stan wasn’t so sure that the ‘learning’ thing he had going with the kid had even passed the threshold, of the kid thinking about it as a possible plus he might want to keep, when the kid had been weighing the pros and cons, making his decision -- and Stan had been counting on that one a _lot_ , with how the kid had seemed to (if you asked Stan, tried really too damn hard _not_ to) act about it before. Stan had hardly had a chance yet to start thinking of ways he’d maybe have to change up his strategy with the kid...

"Just because we haven’t seen him do it yet, doesn’t mean that he hasn’t, or he won’t," Ford pointed out, frustrated himself at what he believed to be his own brother’s blindness to the obvious.

"Ford, I’m pretty sure you could have every gizmo you could think of trained on that kid 24-7 and still not be convinced that he wasn’t up to something that maybe you just couldn’t sense," Stan told him.

"-- _Because he’s up to something!_ " Ford told him adamantly.

"Yeah, he’s ‘up to’ staying _here_ and--" Stan cut himself off and rubbed a hand across his face. "Look, I’m gettin’ tired. Can we just… pick this up tomorrow?" Stan asked of him.

"I’m sleeping with the kids," Ford said staunchly, almost half-expecting an argument from his brother about how he supposedly didn't need to. But he did need to. _Somebody_ did. The blasted demons were only one flight up stairs above them. They could probably shoot things through the floor at them, if they wanted… Or pull up the floorboards and drop things on them. (And that was assuming that Bill did not decide to go for some sort of magical thing that seemed perfectly capable of working inside the house, despite how the barrier was _supposed_ to be stopping those sorts of things from working entirely!) Ford had no idea what they could or could not do up there, and how far that might extend to the rest of the house if Bill got _creative_...

(Ford had to stifle a shudder.)

"Good," said Stan to his plans to guard the niblings for the night, and it was at least slightly gratifying, that Stan thought-- "Maybe they’ll be able to get you to fall asleep sometime before 2am." --well, nevermind then.

Ford stood up from his seat, and they glared at each other for a bit, before Ford turned and strode away, heading for the stairs. Ford was determined to keep the niblings safe, even if Stan _wasn’t_ \-- able or willing to take the proper precautionary measures.

Stan kept sitting on the edge of the table, arms crossed, watching his brother go. Once he’d heard his brother was mostly up the stairs, and out of sight, Stan’s shoulders slumped and he sighed.

Stan took a bit of time to clean up the kitchen and the remnants of the meal, then turned out the light and headed for his own bed.

\---

"So there I was, just trying to get a taste of the honey, because, like, it’s honey from a BEE demon, how could I turn that down right?" Miz babbled as she tried to distract Bill from their conversation earlier. She felt bad, she didn’t mean to upset everyone. She’d done the same thing when she met Seb’s brothers. She couldn’t help but try to cut in and force them to confront their own issues, even if it hurt them. She briefly wondered if that made her a bad person. It definitely made her a hypocrite, but she already knew and accepted that she was a hypocrite.

She absently played with her tail as she spoke. "Bee Bill shows up and he’s PISSED, like, livid. Screams at us and he was just… huge, like, the size of a whale or something. So I start freaking out and we’re all running away before Seb turns around and goes all monster form to start fighting the giant bee like this was some kinda Kaiju movie…" She paused. "Um… I’m sorry for butting in between you and Ford. I… didn’t mean to upset everyone… not deliberately at least…"

Bill, who was lying flat on his back on the floor next to her, with no real expression on his face, just let out a long sigh.

"Humans are hard," he told her sagely, glad that he'd remembered to put the sound barrier back to a ‘one-way’ modality when they'd come up again (...he didn't always remember to do that when it was just him).

Miz nodded. "I’ve tried talking to a few of the ones in my dimensional set, you know a guy named Blendin Blandin? Time traveller dude?"

"Made a Deal with the one here once, took over his body as a puppet to get the ‘rift’ from Shooting Star and kick off my Weirdmageddon."

"Ok, well in my world, he’s been using his time travel tape to go back in time to attend a musical concert… of which I’m the lead singer." Miz giggled. "Like, this guy is using an important, time travel capable machine to ditch work and listen to me sing. How weird is that?" How did this man not get arrested for misuse of Time Property? Miz really didn’t know.

Bill closed his eyes. "I didn’t only approach that Stanford for the portal," he told her belatedly, apropos of nothing. He hadn’t wanted to say it downstairs before. Miz looked over at him. "What was the other reason?"

"He’s part of my Zodiac," he told her, of that Stanford downstairs. He was having trouble even summoning the energy for the anger he should have about it, anymore, and he wasn’t entirely sure why that was, either. "He’s supposed to be my Six-Fingered Hand." And why he’d never been able to convince that Stanford of it properly, Bill _still_ didn’t know. He blinked open his eyes. "He tries very hard not to be, now."

"Wait, really?!" Miz gasped. She… hadn’t expected this.

Bill looked over at her. He had a slight smile. "Didn’t think you’d noticed," he told her, thinking that she’d Seen at least _that_ part of that Stanford’s specific past (not realizing that she hadn’t Seen much of any of it yet). He looked away and his smile faded. "That cheating lizard really tried to screw me over. But I showed it, that stupid frilly thing." He closed his eyes. "I got him here anyway. Bet it thought I couldn’t do it."

"Congrats." Miz said before going over and slowly lowering herself onto the ground next to him, absently clearing away any dust or dirt that might have been there. "You made it out. And… that’s good, right?" He was free from the Nightmare Realm, he was stuck in a human-ish form but… he was free.

"It’s necessary," he told her. "It was Phase 1." Getting out. He hadn't really needed to celebrate, but it had been expected of him by his current set of Henchmaniacs; get out, throw a big party! Ronnie had nearly insisted! And she was usually right about that sort of thing, he’d found over the millenia. So he'd let himself get into it, enjoy himself a bit. "Stanley says I don’t need to do Phase 2. That I’m here, and I don’t need to conquer the entire dimension to make it clear that it’s mine." He'd really been looking forward to that, sending out the gang to conquer a bit for him, have some more fun as a reward while still being useful to him by softening everybody up for him a bit. He'd let the rest of them fly off, staying behind on purpose; he'd been planning on cleaning up the Fearamid a bit, then just taking a bit of time to relax in something as close to peace and quiet as he'd had in one trillion years and then some. He'd been looking forward to taking his time to decide what he wanted to tackle next, how, and when, in whatever order he wanted to; no constraints. But then that _stupid barrier_ that was up around the town had left him stuck inside a nearly infinitesimal amount of space-time with a restless bunch of Henchmaniacs, and...

Bill let out a breath. "I’m still working on Phase 3. Didn’t expect to have to handle all the other Bills so soon. Maybe never. --It’s put off a few things." He grimaced. "More than a few. This whole stupid..." he raised a hand and waved it down at himself, "...too."

"Oh. Sorry?" Miz looked over, lying on her back beside him. "To be fair, I hadn’t expected to find other Bills when I first went through that door. I mean, I kinda knew there WERE others, but I figured I would just be watching them, not…" She waved her hands to indicate the room and around them "...going into their worlds and all…"

"It’s fine," he told her. "I like having you here! And that Stanford doesn’t break all that easily. Bounces back pretty quick, too." Bill looked over at her. "Don’t expect him to be very happy with you, though. He doesn’t like being wrong, and he _really_ doesn’t like _FEELING_ wrong."

Miz groaned and rolled onto her side. "Ugh...are all Fords such...stubborn asshats?" She really hoped not.

"This one didn’t used to be this bad," he told her. "But he’s trying to be a Stanford now. --Not a six-fingered Sixer-Stanford Pines," he told her, looking over at her, "A _five-fingered_ one."

Miz blinked, thought over Bill’s words, really thought about it. "Oh." She said. "That… sucks…" Because, from what she could tell, it meant Ford was acting… like he was superior, and refusing to admit that he wasn’t.

"Depends on your sense of humor," he told her. "They do some pretty stupid things, kill themselves and destroy their planets and suns and all sorts of things out of sheer hubris and ‘I’ll show them’ and ‘well of _course_ I’m right’, when they’re really _really_ not." He smirked, then lost the smirk. "I wouldn’t recommend trying to actually talk with any of them ever, they’re all very insulting." He worked his jaw slightly. "Most of them have a book in their dimensions, Flatland?" He let out a breath. "I made sure that it wasn’t written here, or in that other dimension."

Miz nodded. "I never fully read Flatland, but I know what it’s about… it… got some things right and most things wrong from what I’ve read."

Bill nodded. He slowly levered himself up onto his elbows. "Any Stanford I’ve ever tried to talk with that has read that book… thought _worse_ of me than any other demon I’ve ever come across that knows what most ‘two dimensional dimensions’ are like." Bill got a dark look. "If they thought of me as anything other than a figment of their own imagination at all."

"...racist? Classist? Dunno what that counts as…" Miz muttered. "Speciest," Bill said. "Closest that this human language comes to it, really."

"Language is weird… words are weird… definitions change and some words that are okay to use now can’t be used later…" Miz curled her tail up.

"Definitions aren’t even consistent from person to person. It’s a mess!" Bill agreed. Then he told her the next thing he hadn’t wanted to say downstairs. "That Stanford didn’t decide to hate his brother on his own."

"Oh. Did you push him into it? Or was it his father who did?" Miz asked. "Seb’s dimension had another Bill Cipher, a real jerk, who I think, purposely made his Ford hate Seb. It’s a huge mess."

"Ha, I figured there was another Bill Cipher there," he said of Seb’s dimension. "--I didn’t push that Stanford, exactly. But I did help him make it very easy for himself to dismiss Stanley, not worry about him, not care about him later. --After I introduced myself to him," Bill clarified to her. "I didn’t have to interfere at all in anything that came before." He dropped back flat on his back again and glared up at the ceiling. "Really, that should’ve been the big fat rainbow-flavored warning sign right there," Bill muttered, making an ‘ew’ face. "How easy that was."

"...would you like a hug for comfort?" Miz asked. "I generally need a hug when I’m upset."

Bill looked over at her. "Kid," he told her slowly. "I spent nearly one trillion years in the Mindscape with no body, and by the time I figured out exoskeletons I hardly cared that I hadn’t felt anything since forever." He hadn’t spent much time jumping into puppet-bodies either, on the whole -- not until Stanford. Those thirty years had been an outlier. "You know what it feels like to get _grabbed_ as an energy being? --Guess." Not to mention that ‘a bear hug’ was the name of an actual physical attack that wasn’t much different than a ‘regular old hug’, in Bill’s vaunted opinion.

Miz slowly shook her head. "I never encountered anyone else in the Mindscape who would approach me. And creating a physical body was the first thing Ax taught me...which...if what I’m picking up from you implies, he might have taught me how to be physical to avoid getting touched as a being of pure energy… it must not be a pleasant experience?"

Bill sighed. Her logic really was lacking. "Miz. I wasn’t--" He stopped. "I’m _not_ just a being of pure energy," he told her. "I was STUCK in the MINDSCAPE. --There _is no touching_ ," he told her. How little time had she spent in the Mindscape, for her not to know this? It made Bill feel a little odd, that he was finding himself having to explain this to another _him_. "You can’t even touch YOURSELF. Your appendages -- whatever you visualize, wherever -- just pass straight through each other, themselves, everything." He looked over at her. "ANY time anything or anyone could grab me there, it was BAD NEWS for ME. As in, ‘CONGRATULATIONS! LET’S SEE IF WE CAN EAT YOU NOW THAT WE’VE CAUGHT YOU, HAHA!’ --You get it?"

"...it was pretty oppressive and lonely in the Mindscape…" Miz commented. "I haven't really met anyone else in my Mindscape. From what you say, that… isn’t normal? I’ve seen a few shades here and there but they weren’t all that strong or even sapient…"

Bill shook his head. "Mindscape’s mostly empty here, too. --Which is the problem," he told her. "Anything that _could_ grab me that I’ve ever had the displeasure of floating nearby was something that had a body. And was used to needing to eat things," instead of feeding, which was an ENTIRELY different process. "And thought I was a thing that they could maybe eat. --And _could_ have taken a bite out of me, because they _were_ able to grab ahold of me. Didn’t happen often, but..."

"That sounds scary...I haven’t met anyone or thing like that before…" Miz shivered. "I’m not sure if that means I’m lucky or I just haven’t spent enough time incorporeal?"

"Maybe a little of both?" Bill told her. "As far as I was able to find out later, most of the early ones went after me for the ‘challenge’ of it. When I started showing that I could kill those idiots off, they started getting less jumpy. When I began wearing exoskeletons later that I could jump out of but that they had to try and _break_ me out of first to get at me, they stopped being as much of a problem." He grinned at her. "Specialization is a thing. Good at the physical usually means _very_ bad at mental attacks, and vice-versa, vis-a-vis, Bob's your uncle!"

"Well I can promise I’m not going to try to eat you." Miz assured him. "It only happened once and that was only due to sleep-deprived insanity."

"And now you can sleep again!" Bill told her, with a slight laugh. Miz giggled. "Yup! So there’s no worry over eating anyone." She sighed. "Which is good. It was… very distressing to realize I ate Will’s body…" She whimpered. "I didn’t mean to… I swear I didn’t…"

Bill reached up from where he was laying and patted her on the head. "I know. I believe you." Miz rolled a little closer to him and carefully placed an arm around his stomach, keeping her movements slow and making sure he could see her coming. She hugged him and just laid there.

Bill didn’t stop her. He did, for the most part, appreciate the effort that he could see she was making even if he still found it to feel highly uncomfortable to him. The fact that she was just pushed up against his side, and only laying an arm across him as a bit more pressure, and was not actually _grabbing onto_ him, all made it a lot less of a problem than it had been outside.

It took him a bit to think about this physical configuration, and then he lifted up his arm to lay it down again on her other ‘side’, along her back. That was a bit… more contained and ‘huglike’, he had fully reasoned out before doing so. Miz sighed and relaxed. "It’s… nice to have a brother again." She commented.

"Never had a sister, or a younger sibling," Bill commented. "Makes me wonder what Liam thought of me." It had been an odd thought at first: _‘What should I do? What would Liam do for me if this was me?’_ And not everything quite fit, exactly.

...One thing that did fit, though, was the idea of Miz not getting in trouble, but Bill maybe getting in trouble for her instead. Bill was absolutely certain that there would be a penalty for him later for what had happened at dinnertime in the kitchen that night, given how upset that Stanford had gotten at the whole verbal argument they’d had. They'd all only gotten into in the first place because Miz had started it, and kept pushing it, though; Stanley _had_ been right about that.

"Probably that he loved you. Wanted to teach you about the world, take care of you, make sure you were safe and happy… I know that’s what I felt for **my** younger siblings." She paused. "I’m sorry for pushing, downstairs. I’m… a bit stubborn sometimes…"

"Eh, I know that Liam thought _that_ ," Bill said of what she said her thoughts were on Liam. Because that much had always been obvious to him! It was the _rest_ of it that he’d never been all that certain about. "And, ha, I’m stubborn too. I’m never giving up," he told her. "I’m going to get what I want. Eventually." He let out a breath. "So you’re pushy. So what. How else are you supposed to get what you want, when no-one else wants to give it to you? Be weird, and do what you want. I don’t mind." So he might get a penalty or two from Stanley because he was the responsible older brother to her now, if she did something Stanley didn’t like. That was fine. He could handle it.

Miz nodded. "I still feel bad for making you feel bad. And probably getting you in trouble. I'm gonna apologise to Stan tomorrow."

"I’m fine," he told her. "I don’t like that your logic seems to be broken, but I’m fine. And it isn’t like I haven't gotten in trouble with Stanley before." Bill rolled his eyes. "What would you even apologize _for?_ " he asked her, really not knowing why she’d said that.

"I'd apologise to Stan for making Ford upset, because even if Ford is a jerk, Stan still cares about him and doesn't like it when he's upset." Miz closed her eyes and just enjoyed lying here.

Bill was quiet for awhile. 

"That’s… true," he said finally. "Stanley… _doesn’t_ like it when that Stanford is upset. And... Stanley _does_ care about him." Bill stared up at the ceiling in thought.

"Stan is a good brother. A better brother than Ford deserves." Miz sighed. "He's also a good man." Bill considered this. "...I don’t want you having any stupid hormone-sight problems over my Stanley Pines, either," he informed her quite seriously. Miz giggled. "Don't worry. He's not my type." She assured him. "And I have no interest in sex."

"Hm." There was a brief pause. "Then why do you care what they look like?"

"I just enjoy looking at things that I find attractive." Miz explained. "It makes me feel all squirmy inside."

"Ew. Body things." Bill made a face. Squirmy things inside him? Why did people seem to enjoy that? It made no sense to him. "It's a weird sensation. Some people really like it. I think Shooting Star's addicted to that feeling. Since she keeps seeking out boys she finds attractive to get that squirmy feeling." Miz pointed out.

"Well," Bill said. "That’s probably better than either of you finding a way to make yourselves feel that ‘squirmy feeling’ all the time, whenever you want." Bill had Seen what body-addictions did to people. Sometimes, it could even affect their Minds permanently -- even after they’d been pulled out from their bodies into the Mindscape -- if the addiction was strong enough.

Miz thought about other random crushes she'd had over the years. "There was this lizard-like creature I saw from afar once that also set off my squirmy feelings. He wasn't really my type but he had this nice suit and was a very competent man with a nice voice…" She blushed. "I never even spoke to the guy. Crushes are weird," she groaned. "And there was a brief crush I had on this other triangle back when I was in the 2nd dimension because he complimented me once… I don't think my crushes are hormone based, I'm just messed up." She groaned again at the thought.

"I’ve never felt that way about anyone myself," Bill offered up himself, since apparently they were sharing? "Don’t really see the point." Miz shrugged. "It's not for everyone. And there's a difference between crushes and actually liking someone. Crushes are quick things that come and go. Some crushes calm over time and might actually turn into real affection… but I've never pursued it to that point," never saw the point. Admiring someone from afar was the most she'd ever done. It's not as if she wanted to do anything with them, so why bother?

It's not like romance was all that important. It was nice, as a concept, but it's not like she'd ever find someone who would like her back anyway, so it wasn't worth bothering.

She sighed again. "Is Stan mad? I didn't mean to upset him." She didn't like it when people were upset at her. "What should I do to apologize?" Bill let out a slow breath.

"The thing you have to understand about the Pines," he told her, "Is that they don't do apologies. You can say you're sorry to Pine Tree and Shooting Star, and they'll take it without blowing you off if you mean it and 'know what you did wrong’," Bill rolled his eyes, "But even _they_ won't actually forgive you or even interact with you without wanting to fight you, unless you either fix it or won't do it again." Stanley was all about behavioral output regulation. That was really what their agreement was all about, as far as Bill was concerned. Bill looked over at her. "They hold grudges. It's a waste of time. They'll never forget." He paused for a moment. She seemed to know a bit of similar history, when it came to him. Why not leverage it? "Think the living ventriloquist dumm-- ah. ‘Gideon’ and Shooting Star."

Miz nodded. "Ok, I see what you’re getting at… I can still try? I never meant to upset anyone… but when Ford said that to Stan, implied that he thought Stan didn’t care about other human life… it just made me so mad. You don’t… talk about your brother like that! Like… you expect the worst of them… it’s not right." Stan did EVERYTHING for Ford, loved him unconditionally, and so what if she hurt Ford’s precious _feelings_ when Ford didn’t give a fuck about casually trying to hurt Stan all the time?

"Trying is good," Bill said neutrally. "But you should ask Stanley what sort of ‘trying’ he thinks you should do, before you do anything. --With me there. _Do NOT_ just say yes to just anything with him, he'll take you for a ride if he thinks he can get away with it." Bill let out an amused huff over the 'you don't talk about your brother like that’, though -- because that one, he knew. He'd actually asked, when it had come up before. ...It had been interesting, because about half of what Stanley had said had been wrong, but Bill was actually somewhat sure that Stanley hadn't been trying to lie about it.

"You know, that whole thing about not caring?" Bill told her. " _Stanley_ said that first. That Stanford is angry because what they both mean, and what the other one hears, doesn't really match. --Stanley will ignore all sorts of things that that Stanford would get outraged and jump in on instead. But Stanley would step in if Pine Tree or Shooting Star would be hurt by something, and losing their friends would hurt. Stanley wouldn't really want to do it, but he'd do it. He says he wouldn't, though, because he wouldn't want to do it and wouldn't do it on his own, not if those two didn't care about it." Bill smirked as he added, "That Stanford's just upset at the idea that Stanley doesn't care as much as he does about certain things, when he wants Stanley to care about them more."

"It’s still not right that Stan would just… let Ford speak so badly about him." Miz sighed. 

"Stanley doesn't care. He doesn't think it's bad, or he’d get angry and try to punch him!" Bill explained to her. "He knew what that Stanford meant. He just doesn't agree with him, even though that Stanford keeps wanting him to."

Miz hummed. "Alright. If Stan has it under control I’ll leave him to it… still don’t like it though." She laid her head down and closed her eyes. "I’ll ask him tomorrow how I can try to make up for this…" She relaxed.

"Yes," Bill said, agreeing to everything she'd just said as a whole. "Not without me in the room, though." He would not trust Stanley with his little sister when she was practically going to be begging to make things up to him. Blank checks were a mistake and a half to begin with…

...and Bill wouldn't put it past Stanley to actually know what to do with one. Speaking of which, he should probably start taking care of at least one of those things right then, before Miz _could_ get too much into trouble on it.

Bill got up, gently dislodging her arm. "I need to talk to Stanley. Be right back." Miz nodded sleepily as she curled up and breathed softly, feeling a little tired.

\---

There was a knock on Stan’s bedroom door later that night.

"Yeah?" he called out. He was almost surprised that it was the kid who he saw at the door opening it.

"Where’s your sister?" Stan asked him, closing the book he’d been reading and setting it aside.

"Upstairs in the attic, still," Bill told him, then stopped talking.

... _Great_. That human-demon needed supervision, and the kid was down here? "C’mon, kid," Stan told him. "You gotta question for me? Don’t go takin’ all night."

The kid actually grimaced at him for that. "How bad is it," he said, not looking at him.

Well, that sure as hell hadn’t been what he’d been expecting to hear. "How bad is what?" Stan prodded him back. Might as well make the kid say it, instead of going just halfway.

The kid sure didn’t appreciate it much. But he still leaned up against the doorway and said, "How bad is-- are-- things… with Stanford. How is he."

Huh. Well, this was new. Kid wasn’t smiling over it, or anything like thoughtful. Curious didn't exactly fit. Neutral wasn't right either...

"Not so great," Stan told him. He had no reason to lie about it. Not like the kid wouldn’t find out tomorrow morning, anyway. "Why are you asking me this now?" Those last three words had taken Stan not too long to figure out the importance of, when asking the kid certain types of questions, and this was one of those questions.

There was a long pause, which had Stan internally standing up and taking notice, because when the kid usually did that… "You wish Stanford was part of the agreement," Bill told him, and Stan tilted his head back slightly.

Holy hell. "Define wish?" Stan said.

"All things being equal," Bill told him, "If you could have anything you wanted, and everything else would work itself out for you to allow that to happen…" Stan nodded to show that he understood what Bill was getting at, what the kid's definition was, and Bill continued. "You would want that Stanford to be a part of the agreement. Included in it, under you."

Stan pulled in a slow breath. This was getting _really_ close to dangerous territory here. He hadn't touched upon this at all when they'd originally made their agreement; he'd stayed away from it completely for a reason. _Several._ "Yeah, kid. That’s true. So?"

Bill’s gaze meandered away from his own again. "It isn’t just Shooting Star and Pine Tree that have strings of consequence that tie that tightly to him. You do, too."

Stan pulled in another breath. "Kid," he told the triangle demon standing right in front of him in his doorway. "Either get to the point, or save it and stow it for tomorrow. I’ve got no patience left for you tonight."

Bill turned his head and looked back at him finally, dead-on.

"This isn’t going to work unless I leave," Bill told him, and Stanley felt his eyes narrow.

"You leave, you die," Stan told him straight-out.

Bill’s eyes narrowed in return. "You going to use the circle on me?" It wasn’t a question.

Hell, this kid was an idiot sometimes. "--I won’t have to," Stan told him. "You’re going to get yourself killed. Or end up wishing that someone would just kill you already, to make everything stop."

Bill let out a short abrupt laugh. "You know," he began, "It’s really stopped being funny, the level of self-delusion you seem to have about me."

"Because you’re just some ‘big bad triangle’," Stan put out there, crossing his arms, and knowing that if they went much further on this, it would get ugly.

At this point, after what had happened in the kitchen that night, Stan was looking forward to some ugly. What he really wanted to do was to haul off and punch the both of them, Bill and Miz, agreement-be-damned.

"I am," Bill told him next. "And so is Miz, which you well know by this point, because _you are not stupid_ ," Bill told him, as though the triangle demon thought he needed to emphasize that. "And if you think that that Stanford is _not_ going to wake up after a full night’s sleep and have that be the very first thing that occurs to him, just as soon as he wakes up…" Bill trailed off.

"If it hasn’t occurred to him already," Stan said, which had Bill narrowing his eyes at him again.

"You wouldn’t be acting so calm if it had," Bill said like he was pointing out the obvious, and Stan had to give him that one, as much as he didn’t want to.

"Ford’s not gonna be doing any better if you’re off running around the multiverse, doin’ who knows what, instead of stayin’ right here," Stan pointed out, himself. "And I won’t be able to have your back out there. Which you need."

"I’ve been taking care of myself for one trillion years without you, or anyone else," the triangle told him. "And I’ve got my bearings in this body now." He tilted his head at Stan. "You said it yourself -- who’s going to know I’m me, if I don’t tell them?"

...That gave Stan a hell of a lot of pause. "You’re actually thinking that you can run off somewhere and _not_ get yourself found out," Stan worked out slowly. "Lie low." Then he snorted. " _Really_. **You**."

Bill shot him a disgusted look.

"Give me a hundred dimensions I can talk about," Bill told him next, crossing his own arms.

"Yeah? Why," Stan said, because why in the hell would he do that.

And, just like that, Bill got a glint in his eye that Stan really didn’t like. "Because I’m thinking that only ninety-nine examples of _someone_ not finding me out, when I was directly playing with them for anywhere from two weeks to six months, might not be enough for you," was what the triangle demon who’d tormented his brother for thirty years running apparently thought it would be a good idea to say to him next.

Stan stared at Bill, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end.

"...You’re pushing it, kid," what was Stan said finally.

"Am I?" Bill said. "I’m not the only one. --You missed the mark today, Stanley," he was told. "That question of yours didn’t hit me, but it sure as hell hit _him_ , didn't it?" Before Stan could even so much as tense his muscles to start to get up out of his bed and head over for him at the door, though, the triangle added, "What _were_ you trying to say?"

"If you’d trusted him in the first place, you never would’ve needed that deal," Stan bit out at the triangle angrily. (And yeah, maybe Ford would've agreed at first, and then Bill would've given himself away, and Ford _would've_ changed his mind, sure… _if Bill had been himself_. But if the kid had been _somebody else_ >, just a _little bit_ different… A Bill Cipher who could have trusted his brother _probably_ would've been somebody reasonable enough that Ford would have either _liked_ him because the triangle wasn't planning on causing a big old Weirdmageddon once out, or he would've been somebody that Ford could've talked around and out of doing something horrible like that himself.)

(And even if Bill had gotten angry then, and Ford had gotten in over his head again still… Ford would've still called for him. Stan was dead-certain he could've handled the whole damn thing a hell of a lot better and easier, back then.)

Bill just blinked at him slowly, like a cat. (And that was all Stan needed to see, to know that the kid _didn't_ get it _at all_.)

Stan was just about ready to lose his temper, get up and get physical with him, at the expectation of hearing any one of the usual combative or dismissive responses he always got out of the triangle when Stan told him something he didn’t understand -- and therefore didn’t agree with.

Instead, what he got was the triangle turning away from him and saying, "We’ll continue this tomorrow."

...which was what _Stan_ usually said, when he thought they needed to stop.

"Close the door," he snapped out at Bill, as Bill leaned away from the door and started to walk away. Because, damn it and damn him, Stan wanted a fight.

Stan had expected the triangle to stop and argue with him about the ‘command’ he'd just given him, get angry, _something_. But Bill didn’t do any of those things.

All Bill did was pause for a moment, then reach for the doorknob.

"We’ll discuss the penalties I’ll be taking on for Miz's behavior for her, tomorrow, too," Bill told him firmly. And then he closed the door.

Stan stared at that closed door for a very long time.

And then he finally laid back in bed.

"Shit," he cursed, rubbing a hand over his face, because Ford had been right -- he _hadn’t_ known what he was doing. Not for the reason Ford had thought, but...

Stan had thought the idea of Bill having a living ‘sibling’ that the kid could and would trust would only be a good thing. That it would open up the kid more, make it easier for Stan to get him to work with other people, instead of defaulting to just using and abusing them, instead. All as part of getting the kid to 'play’ at least a little ‘nicer’ with them and the rest of the planet.

Stan _hadn’t_ considered that the kid might actually climb the entire mountain and jump off the entire damn cliff all in one go, taking the responsibility of being a ‘big brother’ seriously. He never would have thought that Bill would start actually _acting_ more responsible and grown up as a result, just a little bit older.

Stan definitely hadn’t thought it would be an immediate change, either. He’d thought it would take the kid at least some time to figure some things out, what being a ‘big brother’ would take for a used-to-be-human like Miz. He never would have guessed that it would have left the kid more confident about leaving, when the kid might be having to look after someone else as part and parcel of that -- even if it was someone the kid only thought he could trust to talk to him but not contribute in any other way, just a ‘support network’ of one who couldn't do anything else for him. He’d completely miscalculated what the demon kid might consider to be ‘support’.

And if the kid thought about leaving for anywhere with that other human-demon, together...

This was going to be a problem.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Thus starts what I will be tentatively calling the Blue-Arc  
> This is a crossover with Jo's 46'/ series (which I've done a crossover with before)!
> 
>  **My AN:**  
>  Yup! (Woo, never thought it'd last quite this long, or end up _being_ so large in wordcount! Probably should've figured that out right as we did the first push, when we created the first original buffer/backlog of material though, haha ^_^ )


	2. Chapter 71: Race you to the bottom of the stairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> A lot can happen in a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 81 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/41975051). It was first posted on Feb 25, 2019.

\----

Miz whined softly at all the swirling emotions happening in the household when she woke up the next morning. Everyone was upset… and it was her fault. She was a terrible houseguest. She thought about how she could make up for it and decided she could strengthen the foundations of the house, repairing and refreshing the wood, clearing out some mice and icky bugs living between the floorboards… cleaning off the dust. She would work carefully around all the wards. She wasn't going to be doing anything BAD after all, she was just… fixing the shack… making it nicer to live in.

Her shoulders were down as she got up to kneel in the attic room with her body's senses turned up as high as she could make them, to try and feel out the other parts of the house. Surely they wouldn't be upset at her for... clearing out the termites that were there, and fixing the wood? She just wanted to do something nice for Stan as an apology for… everything.

Bill had gone downstairs to talk to him last night. At the time, Miz had wondered if she should go too? Part of her had been a little afraid to. Stan had looked really upset. She scooted back to lean against a wall with her eyes closed, attempting to swirl particles around the house into brief triangles to look around. Feeling and Seeing were different things after all. Tiny, microscopic carbon atoms linked into a cyclopropane structure floating around like flecks of dust. She could do subtle. It didn’t quite work though. Probably something about the wards. Instead she had to try pinching together specks of dust until they formed a tiny triangular clump.

Ngh… nope. There was… something… she dropped concentration and sighed. Her powers were… restricted in here. With both the ward and the anti-magic bracers. She lifted a hand to inspect the cuffs. Also… she suddenly realized it might have been rude to spy inside Stan's house without his permission. She nodded to herself. Will ask him later. Besides… there must be a reason why Blue hadn't already set up spy eyes everywhere.

Feeling frustrated and a little unhappy, she did what she always did when she felt this way.

She started singing.

"Os iusti~ meditabitur~ sapientiam~ et lingua eius~ loquetur indicium~" she sang quietly in case Bill was still sleeping. She didn't normally sing in Latin but she liked this song, it let her draw out the notes slowly and work on her scales.

She could feel herself relaxing and feeling better as she sang. "Beatus~ vir qui~ suffert tentationem~" actually, speaking of Bill…

She looked around for him.

Bill was curled up in one corner of the room, back to the wall, and taking up almost no space. It was an odd posture, though, because while he was on his side, none of his limbs were quite overlapping or touching each other. The very top of his blue-haired head was pointed out towards the center of the room. He himself was still fast asleep, and making little noise.

When Miz had been sleeping, he had unconsciously started to let out a very soft buzzing hum on each outbreath, somewhat meandering in tone. But he hadn't woken up at all; not even roused a little.

His breathing was calm and even, his chest moving in and out just as it should. If not for his body's posture and his odd bi-color hair, he'd have looked entirely human-normal in aspect just then.

Miz decided to let him sleep in.

\---

Eventually Miz made her way downstairs, hungry since she only had one pizza slice last night. Her stomach growled. "Shush tummy. I'll feed you soon," she told her stomach. "That's the problem with physical bodies," she muttered to herself. "Always hungry… at least I don't have to deal with most bodily functions… ugh… sleeping and eating is good enough for me…"

She made her way to the kitchen, wondering if she would be allowed to get a snack or if she needed permission. Well… what if she made breakfast for everyone? That might make them feel better after last night!

She looked through the cabinets, climbing up on the counter to reach (of course she left her shoes on the ground, she wasn't a savage) and got some flour and sugar down. She was going to make pancakes! Without hair! Because that was disgusting!

She was struggling to get down, damn counters being so damn TALL, when she heard heavy footsteps and saw Stan walk into the room. He stared at her and then at the large mixing bowl and ingredients next to her. Miz ducked her head shyly. "U-um… good morning sir…"

Stan eyed her with his standard resting grumpy face. "Where's the kid," he asked her, looking around and not seeing Bill anywhere. He wasn't real pleased to see her running around the house without any supervision from the kid. Miz got off the counter with a small grunt. "He's asleep. I didn't want to wake him…"

"Yeah. That don't usually go well." Stan looked over at the mixing bowl. Miz shuffled her feet back into her shoes, still feeling weird for wearing shoes indoors. "Um… I'm really sorry for last night… I got… upset…" Miz rubbed her arm. "I thought I would make breakfast as an apology?"

"Yeah, no," Stan told her. "You ain't sorry, and you ain't making breakfast." Dipper and Ford would likely think it was poisoned. Miz sighed. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. Not so much for Ford," she admitted.

"Which is why you ain't really sorry," Stan told her. "I got angry 'cause my brother got upset." He moved past her and went for the frying pan cupboard. "Would think a used-to-be-human should know better on that one," he grumbled out at her. He was feeling better that morning, but he was reserving judgment until he saw how his brother was doing after a good night's rest in the nibling's bedroom, with them on point with hugs and sweaters and whatever else.

Miz pouted, trying to find a way to explain how she felt. "I don't like the way Ford treats you. He's… mean." She moved away so Stan could start cooking.

Stan stopped what he was doing for a moment to look over his shoulder at her. "Ford ain't mean," Stan told her. "And I like the way my brother treats me just fine," he added. "Don't go tryin’ to fix things that ain't broken." He turned away from her and went back to his food preparations.

"He wanted to hurt you with his words." Miz said quietly. "Isn't that… wrong? I admit I might have been projecting but… still..." She was sure it was wrong. Siblings can tease and mess with each other, but they weren't supposed to deliberately hurt each other.

Stan sighed and set down the pan to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Kid, my brother wasn't tryin’ to hurt me. He just wanted me to agree with him on somethin’ I don't agree with him on." He rooted through the drawers for a spatula. "He's worried that people are gonna get hurt, and angry that he thinks I ain't gonna try and help him stop it."

"By implying that you would stand back and watch Bill kill people? I know you're not heartless. You would be upset if anyone died. Regardless if they were part of your agreement." Miz sat down and fiddled with her shirt.

"Kid, I have straight-up celebrated some people's deaths with booze and sex," he told her. "I don't know who you think we all are, but the words you think you're hearin’ us say ain't the whole picture, not by a longshot." He reached for a second mixing bowl and the ingredients. "Maybe _you'd_ feel the way you were talkin’ about if somebody said that junk to you, but I sure don't." He let out a snort. "And you wonder why I call you a kid. Other people ain't you."

Miz sighed. "Well… if you're really ok with it then I'll leave Ford alone about that." She looked up at him. "I might actually feel sorry and apologize to him and mean it, when I'm not mad anymore." She told him.

"Yeah, you'll apologize to him," Stan said. "And you'll leave Ford alone on everything, too." It wasn't a question, not even close. It was a directive _or-else_.

Miz shrank in on herself. "I'm sorry. To you at least. I'm… a terrible house guest." She wiggled in her chair uncomfortably. She wasn't used to having an adult who actually put a foot down to discipline her. Ax was very hands free. She's been allowed to run about doing whatever she wanted for the longest time. It felt weird to be scolded properly. Most people were too afraid to try and discipline Bill Cipher. She didn't like this feeling. "Is there anything I can do to make up for it?"

Stan had been thinking about the best way to put, ‘Don’t worry about it, this has been one of the better days this week, you should see what happened with the kid three days ago,’ except he _did_ want the kid worrying about it, and last night _had_ been a hell of a lot worse than it would have been if she'd just kept her mouth shut instead of straight-up tossing gasoline on the fire _multiple_ times in a row.

He damn near froze in place when he heard her ask what she could do to make up for it. ...And it was really, really hard for him to back up off of that ledge.

Remembering what the kid had told him last night about her being another ‘triangle demon’ made it a little bit easier. He still had a laundry list of junk like, ‘instant fame! a million dollars! a bigger boat!’ flash before his eyes, though. (It was probably a good thing that he'd been turned away from her when she'd asked him that, to not see the look he'd probably had on his face. --Hey, could ya blame him? It wasn't like he didn't have a functioning greed gene or somethin’, and it wasn’t like he didn't remember seein’ how easy that the dragon-lady had created that bouncy castle for Mabel out of nothing on practically a lark, on that security camera footage of the outside of the Shack that Ford had pulled up, after she’d left, the last time that she’d been there.)

So it was pretty damn difficult for him to take a deep breath and say, despite all that, "I think I'm gonna wait for the kid, before I try setting anything up with you on that. ...Gonna probably need a demon translator, or somethin’," he ended on a mutter, as he turned on the heat under the pan and started up the first batch of pancakes.

Miz hummed. "I could… get rid of the termites in the walls? I heard… and felt them running around last night. Chewing and chewing." She stared at the pancakes. "There’s no hair in that… right?"

"What, this one?" he said innocently. "I dunno, you made this thing of batter, not me." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Did you not want to eat it?"

Miz whined and wiggled around in her chair. Her stomach took that chance to growl again. She pulled on the bottom of her shirt and whined. "Hair is yucky!"

Stan grinned and flipped the first two pancakes in the pan over. "No! Really?" He sounded scandalized almost, and was definitely hamming it up on purpose. Miz whined. "It's coarse and gets stuck between my teeth! This is why I don't eat people's heads!" She paused. "It's the same reason why I don't like celery."

"Uh huh," Stan said good-naturedly, as he transferred the pancakes to a plate, turned, and set it down in front of her on the table during this mini-tirade.

"Good to know about the heads thing," he told her, as he turned back to the stove and started the next batch out of his Stancake mix, instead of hers. Miz inspected the pancakes and poked them before she shoved it in her mouth, almost like she was inhaling it whole. She sighed and licked her lips. It didn't have hair. That was good. "...Thank you, sir."

"Heh, don’t mention it," he told her, as he flipped over the Stancakes on the stove. "--Seriously. Don’t mention it."

As Stan cooked, Miz got bored and started looking around for more stuff to eat. She was currently squeezing syrup into her mouth with an "Ahhhh…." sound, when Dipper and Mabel slowly made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"SYRUP RACE!" Mabel yelled, racing for the refrigerator for her own bottle with glee. Miz looked over. She narrowed her eyes in challenge. "Ahhmm alweady winning!" Miz said, tongue still extended.

"Bet I can eat it all first before you can!" Mabel said, game for a nonstandard challenge, as she pulled her own bottle out of the cold fridge.

"Mabel, sweetie, not the whole bottle at once," Stan said from the stove. Miz laughed, coughing slightly when she choked on the syrup. "No one can beat me at eating stuff!!"

"...Because she ain’t doing it," Stan cut in, which garnered an ‘awwwwwwww…’ from said ‘she’.

Dipper walked the rest of the way into the kitchen and didn’t quite slam his own journal down onto the table as he sat down. He didn’t look very happy with Miz from last night, still.

Miz felt his irritation and put the syrup bottle down. She cleaned off her face before turning to him and bowed her head. "I'm sorry I made you upset last night," she said. She glanced over to Mabel. "And you too." She wiggled in her seat.

"No, you aren’t," the twins both chorused at her in very different tones, as they each continued on doing what they were doing. Mabel’s response was a bit more sweet and light and sing-song-y, and Dipper’s was laced with both teenaged 'I know exactly what I'm talking about' authority and also a great deal of general suspicion.

Miz groaned. "You guys too? Well I AM sorry to you two. I'm not sorry yet for Ford… but I'm working on it."

"No buts, kid," Stan cut in. "You ain’t sorry, you don’t care about the fallout," he had a feeling that she'd do it the same way all over again even if somebody was ever stupid enough to hand her one of those time-tape things the kids had told him about, "And you didn’t even notice when the kids left the room. You weren’t thinkin’ about ‘em at all. All you were thinkin’ about was how _you_ felt about things," he repeated. He flipped the Stancakes over on the stove.

Miz sighed and buried her face in the table. "I was mad… still kinda am… but I also feel all… unhappy inside knowing that you're all unhappy…" She frowned. "I don't like feeling like that."

"You think any of us like feeling like that because of what you said to Great-Uncle Ford last night?" Dipper said to her angrily right back. "Leave him alone! He didn’t deserve that! He didn’t do anything to you!"

"Yeah!" said Mabel, at her left. "And he isn’t mean or whatever! He’s our Grunkle!" she informed Miz, hands on her hips.

"Hm… I think some of my feelings might be due to meeting a few other Fords…" Miz rolled her face to the side, still lying on the table. "There was one who betrayed his Bill, even though his Bill was in love with him… that was distressing to watch…"

"Wh-whaaaaaaaaat?" Mabel said, staring at her. "That’s _crazy_ -sauce! Bill doesn’t love Grunkle Ford!"

Miz nodded. "That dimension was super messed up. In that world, Ford--"

"--Could we _please_ not talk about other dimensions," Dipper put out there, pulling down on the sides of his cap. (He didn’t want to hear about anything that Bill might have done with... other Fords? ...And ‘their Bill’? What did that even mean?) Miz paused and stared at him for a long time before slowly nodding her head. "Right. This makes you uncomfortable right? I'll stop." Dipper looked up at her almost suspiciously, but didn’t accuse her of lying, or say anything one way or the other.

Welp, that was as good an opening as any. "Bill tell you about the agreement he’s got with me? About ‘no’ and ‘stop’?" Stan asked of her, almost casually. "Because if you think you can manage that part of it for as long as you’re hanging around here, that’ll go a _long_ way."

Miz turned her head to look at Stan. "He hasn't explained it yet but I think I sort of get what it is? A basic rundown would help. I DO want to try and be a better guest."

"You could just leave," Dipper muttered into his journal as he opened it up. He wasn't even sure why she was staying, or why Grunkle Stan seemed okay with it. --Why hadn't he kicked her out yet? Because Bill was pretending that she was his sister? That was stupid. Hadn't Great-Uncle Ford told Grunkle Stan what had happened to Bill's family, way back when?

"Not a lot to it," Stan told her. "Formal thing is a ‘mutual non aggression agreement’. Not sure you use the same words for things as the kid, though." Stan shrugged, as he transferred the first batch of Stancakes to a plate. "Most important thing is, if somebody tells you ‘no’?"

"No means no," Mabel told her firmly.

"And if somebody tells you to ‘stop’," Stan said.

"You stop _right then_ , no questions asked," Dipper added for him, glaring at her.

"And don’t go trying to kill nobody or picking fights," Stan said. "Come to me if there’s a problem."

Miz nodded. "Define picking fights?" She had already picked up on the whole, asking for definitions thing.

"No baiting people," Stan said. "You don’t start it. --I’m talking right then. You get away and stop throwing punches, and they stop too? That’s a restart. Starts over again. Physical _and_ mental attacks, and mental includes verbal junk like talking," Stan told her firmly. "The kid can explain physical to you just fine, but he still has to come to me for most of the mental stuff." He looked over at her. "Which is why the ‘stop’ is really important," he said in descending tones.

"And there are accidents and mistakes and on-purpose and penalties and is she going to be part of the agreement now too, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked of her favorite grunkle, as she sat down at the table next to her brother.

"Depends on the kid," Stan told her. "I’m thinkin’ no. Probably he’ll want to set up some kinda different new thing--"

He stopped talking for a moment at the thunder of sound making its way down the staircase.

Bill practically tumbled off of the staircase landing and barely kept his feet as he hit the ground floor. He sped up when he saw Stan, looking grim and downright furious, but came to a screeching halt when he saw Miz in the kitchen with him.

Miz waved. "Morning big brother. Don't worry. I haven't made any Deals or stuff yet. I tried to apologize but I'm not sorry enough yet. I'm still working on that." She reached for the syrup again.

Bill’s breathing was more than a little bit off, even after he saw Miz.

He turned to Stan, and if looks could kill -- and Bill’s had used to -- Stan would have been pretty well crispy-fried on the spot already if the ‘mystic barrier’ around the Shack hadn’t been in place.

Stan’s eyebrows slowly went up. It was the first time that he’d actually seen the kid look… one-trillion-year-old demon-y, all spitfire rage and ancient I-know-exactly-how-to-fuck-up-every-last-piece-of-your-shit-you-don’t-even-KNOW-haven’t-even-begun-to-COMPREHEND-what-that-means-yet- _BUT-YOU-WILL_.

"...You really don’t trust me with her, huh," Stan said slowly.

"STAY AWAY FROM HER." Bill said outright, as he stomped over to Miz. "DON’T GO TALKING TO HIM WITHOUT ME AROUND," was what he demanded from Miz. He was twitching and shivering in place, his breathing still well-off.

Miz looked back and forth, unsure why Bill was so angry. She was unharmed. She nodded anyway. "Ok."

Bill lifted his hand with a snap-like jolt, and it hovered above her head for a moment.

Then he brought it down again, right down onto the top of her head, and he did a sort of mussing, then not-mussing-just-holding it there, and then a mussing again, before he just let it lie there for good.

"DON’T-- do ThAT aGAin," Bill said, and while his voice was jumping between high-pitched triangle-demon like tones and low-pitched rumbling, the hand on top of her head was shaking slightly. (‘Don’t leave me behind. I didn’t know what happened. You were supposed to be there but you were gone and…’)

Miz pretty much purred into his hand. "Alright. I'll wait for you next time." She could feel he was really upset about this and didn't fight him on this. "I'm sorry for worrying you." She resolved to stay within his sight for a while. He must have been really upset to wake up to find her gone.

"NOT-worried. I’m-fine. Stanley-is-dangerous," Bill was calming down slowly, the longer he saw that Miz was fine and that Stan was acting the same as he did every morning. He was still clearly suspicious and angry as hell, though. Miz looked over at Stan. "MORE dangerous?" she asked.

"He killed me." Bill told her succinctly, glaring at Stanley as he finally got his stupid human-ish body’s breathing back under control. "And he’s smarter than he acts. DON’T be fooled." Miz nodded. "Ok." She agreed easily. Stan was a conman, she knew not to just make deals with him willy-nilly. Even if she felt bad for upsetting him. Stan looked pretty unperturbed. Dipper and Mabel were watching the back-and-forth between the two of them, though, and exchanging looks between them.

They all heard boots clomping down the staircase next, then almost a hesitation in their step, before they picked back up again, and Ford made his way the rest of the way down the stairs and into the room. He didn’t look like he’d slept entirely well; his hair was still a bit askew.

Miz looked over and then looked away. She sighed. Took a deep breath and huffed. This… well… she… she could do this. Miz pressed a hand to her face and sighed. Ford didn’t look all that well-pleased at seeing her still there himself, with the way he stopped for a moment and grimaced slightly, before firming his jaw, moving his gaze away from her, and striding the rest of the way in.

Bill was eyeing Stanford, looking somewhat expressionless during his assessment. After awhile he looked away from him, to glance out the window instead.

"Oh, _great_ ," Bill muttered as he got a good look at the sky, and the weather ongoing. "No rain today." He sounded absolutely disgusted, and more than a little put out.

"Yup!" Mabel said cheerfully, and Dipper dipped his head to cover something of a laugh and a smirk. Ford just looked done with the entire situation already, and rubbed his fingers across his eyes as he sat back down in his chair, which was at the opposite side of the table away from the two demons, well out of arm’s reach.

Miz was still breathing steadily as she tried very hard to purge the anger from her system. The problem with absorbing emotions for energy was having them inside her until she could filter them out into pure, clean energy. She breathed carefully until she wasn't angry anymore. Specifically, until she wasn't angry at Ford anymore.

Bill turned his head and looked down at her, picking up that there was something going on that had to do with her breathing, but not sure entirely what. Nobody breathed that evenly or regularly unless they were doing it on purpose... but she didn’t look like she was trying to meditate -- not to him. Miz straightened up and groaned. "Ok. I'm not mad anymore," she said carefully. "Should I try apologizing now?"

"No," said Bill. "What?" said Ford, his head coming up.

"Nothin’, don’t worry about it," Stan told his brother. Ford readjusted his glasses and looked around at them all, frowning slightly. "...What did I miss," Ford said slowly, as Stan turned around and dumped a plate with a large stack of Stancakes on it down onto the table in front of them all. "Nothin’, I told you," Stan repeated, and Ford narrowed his eyes at his brother suspiciously.

"Stan…" Ford began. "Eat your breakfast, Ford," was all he got back from him, as Stan turned away from them all, back to the stove. Miz looked at Ford and then Stan. Well, they said she shouldn't try to apologize so… she should just wait? "When and how should I apologize?" she asked.

"Is this the ‘game’ we’re playing this morning?" Ford muttered almost under his breath, looking not entirely well as he snagged a few Stancakes from the stack with his own fork, after he saw that the niblings had finished taking their own shares each. Miz looked over at him again, now feeling bad for him, the obvious exhaustion on his face. She wasn't sure what to say. "If I'm still hungry, can I go out and get some food on my own or can I eat something else?" she asked instead, unsure how to apologize when everyone seemed so tense. She also took the glasses off because it was really weird when Ford looked like that. She rubbed her eyes.

Stan finished up making the second large batch of Stancakes and cleaned up the stove, putting the pan and such in the sink. "I’m done. You can cook the rest of that up for yourself if you want," he told her, nodding at the batter, as he carried the new batch of Stancakes to the table and sat down with them, before pushing them out to the center of the table.

Miz nodded. "Ok. Thank you." Bill dropped his hand to move to the side, and she got up to start pulling out a new pan to use. She hummed a soft melody as she went.

Bill, who had moved on to the toaster himself, absently and unconsciously let out a soft but audible hum at times, that built and faded away on odd notes at odd times as Miz hummed the same notes herself, as the notes she was putting out hit a sort of internal resonance with his own largely-suppressed and anchored-down energy form. More often than not, it was one-tone, but sometimes a soft polyphonic two-tone hum came from him, sort of bubbling out of his breathing, similar to what had happened when he’d been asleep.

Miz slowly began to harmonize her humming with Bill’s, as she began to catch his pattern, and that it was a repeating one. Then she made hers go up and down around Bill's tones, a sort of… playful melody. Bill had absolutely no idea what was happening, completely oblivious to it, but it slowly caught the attention of each of the Pines at the table with them in-turn.

Stan noticed it first, almost at the same time as Dipper and Ford did, and paid attention, but said nothing. Mabel noticed it and then seemed to shrug, not thinking much of it; she was used to Bill being weirdly musical by this point. Dipper looked down and made a few notes in his journal, but mostly focused on eating his breakfast. Ford looked up… and slowly set down his fork, staring.

Ford stared at the two of them the longest.

He was still staring when they heard the door open after awhile, and the next thing that happened involved Mabel jumping up happily and yelling out, "Melody! Soos!" to dart way from the table and grab each one of them in a hug in rapid succession, brightly grinning up at them.

"Hey, little dude," Soos said to her good-naturedly, with his usual laugh. "How’s the breakfast?" Then he looked up and spotted Miz. "Uhhhh, Mr. Pines? Who’s the new girl with the tail?"

Mabel was happy to fill Soos in on how Miz was the dragon-girl from before that had made the bouncy castle for them, and Dipper added a piece of information or two when Mabel skipped something he thought needed adding.

In the meantime, Melody walked her way over to Bill. "Hello, Bill. Who’s your friend?"

"Little sister, not a friend," Bill corrected her, talking through the hum he was still putting out, as Miz was still humming herself.

"What are you two humming?" she asked them, as Bill finished pulling his thrice-burned toast out of the toaster, to make up his customary toast-lime-jelly-pepper-sandwich of the meal. Bill simply looked up at her and blinked. "...Humming?" he said, with a thrum still in his voice, then blinked again and raised a hand to his throat, finally becoming aware of what he was doing. (He had no idea for how long he’d been doing it, or quite why, just yet.)

Miz paused. "Just a bit of a made up tune… I used to sing together with my sisters. Sadly, my other brother couldn’t sing with me." She looked a little nostalgic at that.

Bill blinked and blinked again, as Melody refocused on Miz. He opened his mouth and closed it again. He tapped his fingers against the front of his throat lightly, trying to assess… _Then_ he craned his neck around and turned in place to look down at Miz for a moment, after taking her and Melody’s words into larger account. Miz blushed a little. "I-I really liked being able to make music together with someone again." She still felt giddy at the thought of Bill wanting to be her brother, to be her family.

Bill blinked at her again.

"I could play piano for you," he offered.

He did not see how Ford colored, went pale, and then practically bristled in place behind him at his words.

Miz beamed so brightly it was a wonder she wasn't glowing. "I'd love that very much! Thank you! Thank you!" She was wagging her tail as Melody blinked and finally recognized her. "Oh. You're that kid who came here with that other man… um… is he here too?"

"Seb's back home in his own dimension so he can fix his portal and save his Ford… ah… wait. Would this be one of those ‘don't talk about’ things… wow… I'm really bad at filtering stuff…" Miz groaned and covered her face. "Damn my mouth. Can never shut up…"

"Wait, wait, what?! What do you mean save his Ford?" Dipper asked, looking worried and also a bit angry at Bill. Miz looked over and fidgeted with her tail. "So… am I supposed to talk about other dimensions or am I not supposed to talk about it?" she asked them. "Getting mixed signals here." (Bill leaned back and said nothing at all, knowing anything he said to the rest of them at this point would come across very, very wrong.)

Stan glanced over at his brother, waiting for his decision, since he was the one not wanting to talk about other dimensions. "...Don't talk about it." Ford said stiffly, after a very long pause, during which he’d actually seemed to be mentally fighting with himself a bit. (And as far as Ford was concerned, if his brother was going to refuse to police Bill properly when he was messing with people in other dimensions… then Stan could just choke on it. It was likely the only way that Stan would learn to listen to him when he said...) Miz nodded and shut her mouth. Dipper slowly sat back down as well, looking at his Great-Uncle with no small concern.

Miz hated how awkward it was in here. She finished flipping the rest of the pancakes and realized she'd used up the rest of the batter. Soos looked over. "Oh hey dude, can I have one?"

"--No!" Ford said quickly, looking worried in the extreme. Miz frowned but took another deep breath and let it go. Don't start a fight… so… getting mad at his distrust would be starting a fight? She breathed again, knocking away the negative emotions Ford kept putting out. "Ok, it's very hard to not get mad when you keep letting out angry waves," she muttered at him. "I'm trying my best here!"

"What." Bill turned to look at her. His eyes were a bit wider than usual. "--Define ‘angry waves’."

"They’re like… this psychic resonance that everyone lets off whenever they feel any emotion at all. I passively feed off it, which DOESN’T hurt them. And it's not just him." Miz sighed. "I can't help it when they're all feeling so strongly." She shook her head. "Even if I close my mind to it, I can still taste their emotions." It was passive, it helped her gain energy and wasn't normally a problem. But she had already upset Stan and the kids. She didn't like that.

Stan opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again, because he hadn’t been sure whether to say ‘Ford…’ or ‘Kid…’ instead. All Stan knew was that whatever it was, was probably _not_ such a good thing, if it had the two of _them_ staring at the dragon-lady with nearly identical ‘oh shit’ looks on each of their faces.

It didn’t help that the next thing each of them did was immediately look to each other. Ford’s look turned thunderous. " _Get her the hell out of the house right now._ " Bill looked angry in return. "Shut up and _let me think!_ " Bill snapped right back. "--And DON’T interrupt me, it’ll just take longer, you’re ALREADY making me waste time having to TALK AT YOU when you’re being stupid, Miz what kind of range are we talking about here," Bill ended with, not even stopping to take a breath until he’d finished quickly rattling through all of that, and then looking back to his little sister.

Miz blinked. "Eh… with my mind closed to keep people out, it’s around a 30 foot radius around me?" She pouted at Ford. "It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose, you know? I didn’t get to choose what my powers were!"

"Outside," Bill said, as Ford was starting to open his mouth to, one assumed, repeat himself again. "We’re going outside. Right. _NOW_." he told her. "Melody, more pancakes to feed her different things instead of _angry waves_ would be helpful!" Bill called out to her quickly, as he steered Miz away from the kitchen stove and towards the nearest exterior door. "And DON’T COMPLAIN at me, Sixer! None of you were acting ANY differently than you normally do the past FULL DAY, this is a PRECAUTION ONLY!" Bill called back at him over his shoulder, as he walked Miz in front of him out through the door and onto the porch, and kept right on walking.

Miz seemed confused. Sure, the emotions were annoying but it wasn’t like she hasn’t dealt with this for years and years… it’s not like she was absorbing Lust energy. That… sucked.

"Keep walking," Bill told her. "Last thing we need is that Stanford throwing a hissy fit because we aren’t thirty feet from the outer barrier. --Yes, THAT one, he’d be worried about the disruption of you maybe-possibly feeding on THAT," Bill told her, as they kept on moving. He was steering her -- really, them both -- towards one of the walking paths used for the Shack tours.

"But nothing went wrong while I was here for like… a whole day? I mean, I got kinda irritable and angry last night but otherwise I was fine!" Miz protested but she still walked outside without fighting it. "I didn’t think it was gonna be THIS big of a deal… I just wanted Ford to stop being so grumpy…"

"No, it’s just a precaution, I told you -- him -- them. Technically, _I’m_ taking more risk than all of them combined," Bill muttered. "--It’s fine," he added shortly after. "It’s GOOD that you said something." It explained a lot of the instability that she might’ve been having trouble with that he’d been reading about from her, maybe.

"I’ve never had someone react to knowledge of my empathic powers so… strongly." Miz continued walking past the border of the wards.

"That’s likely because they didn’t understand what it might mean," they heard from behind them as they came to a stop, and they both turned around to see a grim-faced Ford standing there, hand on the gun at his hip.

" _Go back inside_ ," Bill nearly hissed out at him.

"No," Ford told him, taking a stand. "You’re going to need a human test subject for this, _if_ you’re actually trying to define and restrict this at all, and of the members of my family and the people in town, I am the most protected out of all of them against any potential side-effects, adverse or otherwise. --I _won’t_ let you demand the participation of Stanley for this, or anyone else." Ford didn’t look particularly _pleased_ about it, and was more than a little tense and looking combative, but he was still standing there looking ready to deal with anything that he had to. Miz muttered, "Didn’t have any issues the last time I was here…"

Bill snarled out a curse word in Galactic Standard at Ford, and Ford responded promptly with something just as derogatory in return, but far more cooly than Bill. It left Bill twitching, but not saying anything further immediately back at him.

Miz grew and then settled into a large leaf-chair after she took the magic cancelling cuffs off. She sat down and sighed. Was she missing something? No one back home ever said this was a problem? She fed off Xanthar passively because he was really good at Calm and Peaceful. She’d only fed of people actively once, the Lust at her concert… because she was trying to make sure none of the people there would be able to feel Lust for a few hours after the show. Since Time Baby got all up in her case about that. The damn prude didn’t like how horny the fans were after a concert and she really, REALLY hadn’t liked the results of that active feeding.

Ford pulled out a smaller notepad than one of his usual journals and flipped it over to a new page. "She characterized this as ‘angry waves’, ‘psychic resonance’ she relates to emotions -- which also apparently have a ‘taste’ -- passive feeding with a lack of induced pain," Ford frowned, "An inability to completely shut this sensory phenomena out," his frown deepened into a grimace, "A sensory range of 30 feet in radius when consciously attempting to ‘close her mind’ to keep these presumably external feelings out, and an implied ability to be able to sense these 'waves' at further distances when ‘open’." Ford finished jotting down what he’d been concurrently relating to them, then looked up at the both of them. "Did I leave anything out."

Bill rubbed the side of his hand across his right temple, and looked like he wanted to drop-kick Ford into the lake, despite how far away they were from said body of water currently.

"You are GOING to SLOW THINGS DOWN," Bill gritted out at him, and Ford gave him a long bland look down his nose at Bill. "Then perhaps you should consider my presence nonexistent, and I will simply observe your supposed brilliance from afar," was Ford’s own clipped and incredibly dry, highly sarcastic retort in return. Miz looked back and forth as they interacted. Ah… this taste… how… weird...

Bill let out a huff of breath and rolled his eyes. "More like hope for an opportunity to shoot me in the back and call it a misfire," Bill put out there, in a tone of voice that made it clear that he knew he wasn’t giving that Stanford any new ideas on _that_ particular front. He turned his back on Ford anyway, deliberately. "--Still worried about whether he was gonna bounce back from last night, Miz?" he told his sister with no small sarcasm, as he turned his full attention back on her.

"I’m actually… glad he’s feeling better…" Miz said honestly. "This… right here… is much better then how he felt yesterday and earlier."

"Because he’s focused," Bill told her. "This is a problem he thinks he can solve -- not that he _actually_ knows how to solve it." Bill stepped up a bit closer, and squatted down in front of her. He reached for his back pocket, then stopped mid-motion. "Need my knife back, or a copy of it," Bill said to Miz simply, bringing his hand back around to his front. He didn’t _quite_ sound embarrassed at the delay he’d had in remembering. Miz nodded and flicked her fingers to summon it. She frowned at her hands, still unable to snap her fingers. Still, the knife appeared and dropped to the grass in front of her.

Ford stared at this. "You--" Bill had actually handed her a weapon? _His_ weapon? The only one he'd ever been given by Stan? A demon doing something like _that_ implied--

"--This the original or a copy?" Bill asked of her, as he scooped the knife back up. Ford frowned slightly at how he was being effectively ignored, then visibly seemed to decide that he wasn’t going to pursue it, and settled down in a balanced crouch at the base of the nearest tree to where he was standing instead, watching them both.

"Original, didn’t want to copy it without your express permission." Miz shrugged, kicking her legs childishly as she leaned back on the leaf chair. Bill blinked. "Thought I gave you that earlier." He then shrugged it off, ‘cloned’ it himself, and handed her the original knife back. Miz held the knife, scanning it absently and saving this template in the huge database inside her head. 

"Without opening your mind -- keeping it as closed as you usually do and NOT trying to sense anything or focus on sensing anything any better than you already are," Bill told Miz, as he pulled a handful of something small out of his pocket, "What do you sense that Stanford is feeling right now?"

"You shouldn’t be jumping straight to--" Ford began.

"Shut up, Sixer," Bill said almost absently, as if in reflex, while he flipped open his pocket knife and started working away on what he was holding in his hand. "Miz?"

"Well… he’s Curious for one thing. A… faint taste of Worry and Dread." Miz said as she tilted her head. Emotions were always a weird thing. "It’s hard to explain."

"When you sense this, does it feel like it’s something outside the boundaries of your Self? Inside them? Something like an internal resonance inside with something outside? Something that you’re feeling as it enters you or crosses your Self boundaries? Something you have to gather internally first in a pool, then pick apart and look at there?" Bill asked of her next.

"It’s clearly not coming from me. But if I’m around it long enough, or if the emotion is strong enough, I start to feel it too. That’s generally around the time I start feeding and it becomes part of me. I can filter out the emotion attached to this energy but it takes a little time to do so. I can collect it in a pool if I want but I have to do that actively, my passive feeding just takes it in as is." She paused. "Dad taught me how to filter out the emotions. Back when I was first learning how to use my powers I would get overwhelmed and go nuts because I couldn’t regulate or filter it out." (As she said this, Bill made a mental note to discuss self-regulation techniques with her later, and bring it up before they were done here.)

"Your ‘dad’ isn’t actually the Axolotl," Ford put out there. It wasn’t as though Stan hadn’t told him about that part of it, too. And he wasn’t so stupid that he hadn’t figure out from last night that-- "You’re a demon. The Axolotl would never--"

Bill clenched his jaw for a moment. "--Hey idiot," Bill said, raising his voice slightly, and cutting Ford off, "Newsflash. The Axolotl you don’t-know and love GAVE me a ‘get out of jail free card’ for fiery-deaths, in case you were wondering how I came back with NO issues WHATSOEVER." Ford was staring at his back blankly. "SURPRISE!" Bill got a nasty smirk, as he continued carving away. "What do you think of the stupid lizard _now?_ Still ‘good enough’ for you?"

Ford didn’t say anything, but his face went largely expressionless.

"Ax… kinda has some weird sort of plan for us. Apparently. Dad just told me that I’m supposed to be his opposite. We form a trinity back in my Dimension. Me, Ax and Time Baby. Energy, Space and Time. Like a cosmic equation." Miz spoke up quietly. "Dad usually lets me do whatever I want so long as I don’t try to destabilize reality."

"Oh, see, you probably just confused him there, Miz," Bill said, almost sing-song. "Why don’t you just go and ask Stanley to explain _all about_ dimensional sets to you, Stanford? I’m _sure_ he’d be happy to!"

Ford, frowning, almost pushed himself to his feet -- then stopped and settled back down, looking angry with himself. He wasn’t going anywhere, especially not with Bill acting like this, _and_ wanting him gone.

"Frustration… Disappointment…" Miz continued to list off.

Bill nodded at her absently as he worked. "So, these ‘waves’ are something you feel against the edges and side of your mental boundaries, and if the pressure-differential is too high, it slowly seeps in?"

"Like osmosis. But… not water." Miz confirmed. 

"Does it have to be a certain strength or intensity to seep in? Or do you just need to be around it long enough?"

"I just need to be around it long enough. But the weaker emotions are filtered and purified more quickly." She explained. "I’ve gotten better at it but most of the time I don’t bother because I’ve gotten better at controlling myself even when flooded with emotions. But… apparently the ones I ended up feeding on last night were… a little more toxic than I thought…"

Ford looked horrified at the beginning of her explanation, and only looked even more and more horrified as she continued. He didn’t say anything, but he did look over at Bill.

Bill sighed. "Kid, your ‘dad’ _really_ did NOT do you any favors," he informed her with a dry anger that was ready to spark. "Self-regulation is a thing, and so are layers. You need an _actual boundary_ that will KEEP THINGS OUT. --Not surprising you’ve been having trouble with it," he told her, "You got conned into making and using vessels. I make and use exoskeletons. They’re two very different things conceptually, and not just how they physically operate and how you mentally attach to them."

Miz sighed. "I think Ax just teaches me to deal with the side effects of my powers, rather than how to prevent them from happening. I’m not sure why though."

"Because the stupid lizard is stupid and a jerk and wants to see you fail," Bill rattled off, then paused. "Letting you pick your prophecy is probably some sort of test." It wasn’t as though the lizard couldn’t just… " _Maybe_ it’ll take a request from you, but at the end of the day, _it_ is the one who decides, isn’t it?" (Bill wasn’t bothered by Stanford overhearing this, and Ford was staring at them both.)

"...I don’t think Dad is trying to hurt me on purpose ...I think he just doesn’t realize I don’t work like other Bill Ciphers? He told me, back when he first found me, that I wasn’t what he was expecting." She frowned. "He says that a lot whenever I do stuff."

Ford’s breathing went thready, and he pushed his back up against the tree. He hadn’t actually thought… this was just some kind of sick joke, right? The demonic dragon wasn’t actually… a…

Ford’s hand, already on his gun, started to tighten around the grip of it.

" ** _DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT_** ," was what rumbled out of Bill, in deep distorted inhuman tones that he shouldn’t have been able to produce. "We’re BOTH demons named Bill Cipher. She WON’T DIE, I won’t die, and ALL you will do is piss BOTH OF US off."

Ford froze in place, and his grip on his gun slipped slightly, almost spasmodically.

Miz looked over at him. "You don’t know anything about alternative dimensions do you? I’ve been to a dimension where Bill Cipher was a Bee. A honey bee. An ACTUAL tiny insect. Not all Bill Ciphers are the same. Heck, I’m the way I am and I don’t even have the same backstory as big brother over here. And Sebastian is a Bill Cipher who was born as a HUMAN."

"There aren’t... supposed to be… more than one…" Ford panted out. He looked faint.

"--Because they all kill each other for having the same name, because it’s annoying to not be the one summoned when you’re SUPPOSED to be called," Bill ended. "I don’t Play by the Rules, Sixer. I’m not going to kill my counterparts if I don’t have to. DEAL WITH IT."

Ford looked like he was on the verge of having a heart attack, or maybe a mental breakdown. His legs slowly slid out from under him, and his arms went just as slack.

"That… that…" Ford was barely able to breathe out, eyes glassy. "No…" he started to shake. "No… I…" (There were multiple Bill Ciphers? Had everything he’d ever tried to do been all for nothing? If there were… an infinite number of Bill Ciphers… for an infinite number of Fords... and they could all go anywhere they pleased once they’d escaped… and so, so many of them had escaped… _**at least** three_… that other one that had been here last time hadn’t been possessed by Bill, he’d actually _been_ a… a...) Ford stared sightlessly out into the woods.

"I’ve discovered something about that actually." Miz spoke up. "You know how the AXOLOTL has multiple instances of himself spread out, creating their own multitudes of dimensions to rule over and observe? Well, apparently, they each have different amounts of dimensional sets under their power and they keep their sets away from each other. So… YOUR Ax has many, many, MANY dimensional sets with different Bill Ciphers, which is why you’ve heard about them. But My Ax only has one dimensional set under his rule. That’s why I’m the ONLY Bill Cipher in my world." Miz sat up, excited to finally share this tasty bit of info with someone.

She’d discovered this through just some basic logic: Blue’s Ax seemed to have plenty of Realities under his fin, Seb’s Ax had at LEAST two Realities… and her dad had never spoken about any other Bill in their multiverse except her. "And it’s why my world doesn’t have multiple Earths, just alternate timelines that cannot be accessed because they get sent off to be given to a different Ax."

"Interesting." Bill huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. "Lizards all the way down and around. HMM..." He stopped carving for a moment and thought about it for a moment or two, then started up again, "Makes sense. Infinite realities should be able to repeat, so why not get a bunch of 2’s or 3’s or 46’\’s several times over?" he mused. "Wonder how they-of-it decide all that between them." Bill frowned.

"No idea how they decide. Dad says he’s in contact with the other ‘hims’ so I’m guessing they vote?" Miz giggled. Then she paused and pointed at Ford. "Existential horror. Been a while since I tasted that."

"This is why I didn’t want to tell him," Bill told her, after looking over his shoulder at that Stanford, then back again. "Either he’ll break, or--"

Ford slowly bent forward and started to chuckle. Then laugh. Then laugh _harder_. Full-body laughter, like it was just the funniest thing on the world... that started to get a tinge of hysteria in the mix over time. And it grew and grew in volume.

"--he’ll do _that_ ," Bill grimaced. "Wait for it," he told her next, glancing up at her. "50-50, he either stops and just… _stops_ for awhile, or just starts shooting at us without warning."

"Uh…" Miz leaned away from Ford. "This taste is… weird…"

"In the ‘wrong way weird’, I bet!" Bill held out his hand and said, "Take these." Three small smooth stones, like the kind you’d skip across a river, were cradled in the palm of his hand. They all had a slew of small markings etched over every last bit of space over them. "Trying the ‘shotgun’ approach, here!" Bill told her, stealing the phrase from Stanley. "See if anything works that maybe can stick. We can try narrowing it down later if anything does," he told her.

Miz picked up the stones, turning them over in her hands and scanning them. "Just hold them," Bill told her. "They need to be on your person to work, if they’re going to work at all. Might need a minute or two, to finish powering up from the ambient weirdness out here." Miz nodded at Bill’s words. Ford was still laughing in the background. He’d fallen over onto his side at some point, and was curled up around himself now, clutching at his sides. It was a little difficult to tell at this point if it was laughter, sobbing, or perhaps both at the same time.

"Is he gonna be ok? Is Stan gonna be mad and blame us for this?" Miz asked worriedly.

"It’s fine," Bill told her. "Not like he hasn’t broken before."

"Isn’t it bad if he breaks?" Miz looked over at Ford.

Bill looked up at her. "There’s breaking, and then there’s BREAKING. He’s doing the first one. --Done it LOTS of times!" he told Miz. "Always comes out of it fine. I told you, he bounces back pretty quick." It was just a thing his Sixer-Stanford felt like putting himself through from time to time. Bill never really understood why he did it. He shrugged at her, moving on. "So, things that move past your outer boundary diffuse almost immediately?" he asked next. "You said that you could collect it in a pool. Is the pool ‘inside’ or ‘outside’ or at or along the edges of your boundary?" He wondered how she could tell what emotions matched what waves...

"I collect it inside a bubble if I’m not absorbing it myself. It’s outside me and I can carry it around and use the collected emotions for stuff if I wanted. I could give it to someone else to make them feel the emotion, I could just leave the bubble floating around somewhere until someone is unlucky enough to touch it and be forced to feel it, I could use it on myself and just absorb it…"

"So, you _are_ basically homogenous on your interior, then," Bill said to her, confirming it with her. "You never learned how to layer, you never learned how to set up hard boundaries, you never learned to self-regulate, and you never learned how to automatically identify, characterize, quarantine, and expel things-that-are-not-you when they manage to get past your boundaries." (And if Bill had understood the signals his physical body was sending him correctly in that moment, he’d have realized that what his body was wanting to do at that thought was to vomit violently. Because everything he’d just listed off were all basic survival skills, as far as Bill was concerned, and Miz seemed to have absolutely none of them, not a single solitary one.)

"It… never seemed important? I got used to it." Miz scratched her head. "I suppose I never thought about it. I was more focused on learning not to explode randomly or laserbeam people to death…" She blushed. "And then I got distracted teaching myself how to build stuff. Clicking atoms together to form molecules and building the mass until it turned into stuff… I liked doing that. It was fun. And distracting…"

"...And it never occurred to you that the REASON WHY you kept having interior spikes that CAUSED those explosions or laser-beams to come out, _might be_ because things _outside_ of you were PUSHING your insides all-around and CAUSING those spikes?" Bill asked her. He was more curious than judgmental, honestly. He honestly couldn’t imagine not noticing the correlation himself, to then LOOK for the causation and determine if there really was a link.

Miz looked down in shame, embarrassed at her own ignorance. "I thought it was due to me being… used to being human…" she admitted softly. "I thought it was because I was… a defective Bill Cipher…"

"Define ‘defective’," Bill challenged her. He’d always been offended by the concept, once he’d realized what other people meant by it, and the implications. "I’ve always been insane. Am _I_ defective?"

"....not what he was expecting…" she said softly. Bill frowned. "Not what _who_ was expecting?"

"Ax." Miz said. "I had thought he said that because I used to be human. I didn’t know anything about anything back then."

Bill frowned at her.

"Do you think I did?" he asked her. Then he grinned and threw his his hands out to the sides. " _Everybody_ has to start SOMEWHERE! HAHA!"

"I just thought that any problems I had were just a result of me being… me. Not that there was… my powers doing stuff without me realizing." Miz spoke slowly as she admitted this. 

Bill stood up and reached out with his free hand. He flipped his knife closed and stowed it, while he laid his other hand on her head. "There’s nothing wrong with you."

Miz sniffled. Her shoulders shaking a little. A lot of her repressed self esteem issues had to do with feeling like there was something wrong with her. She wasn’t the Bill Cipher Ax expected… maybe she wasn’t the one he _wanted_ and hearing Bill, another Bill, a **proper** Bill, tell her that she wasn’t wrong, she wasn’t a _mistake_ just caused everything to come spilling out all at once. She brought her hands up to try and muffle her soft sobs as she cried. "I… I’m not wrong… I’m not a mistake right? You… you really mean that?" she sobbed. 

"Ah," Bill said when she started sobbing. He patted her on the head just as awkwardly as before. "Yes, I mean it. HAHA. --Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it? You are not wrong, or a mistake." He tilted his head at her. "I’m pretty sure we were all made the way we were on purpose. But YOU..." He crouched down in front of her, hand still on her head, and his eyes brightened up like stars. "YOU broke the mold, is what I’M hearing, and YOU did it MUCH SOONER than I did. You’re doing it BETTER, FASTER, breaking all those Rules so early! --Good job!" He grinned at her, very very proud of his little sister's accomplishments so far.

Miz laughed through her sobs. She gave him a shaky smile. "I-I guess so… that’s a good thing?"

"I _KNOW_ so!" Bill enthused, still grinning at her. "And yes, a _good_ thing. A _VERY_ good thing. Those lizards DON’T know what they’re doing," he informed her.

"Even if I so-somehow skipped all the beginner steps?" Miz asked. She had felt like such an idiot for not knowing things that, to Bill, seemed obvious.

"Yeesh, kid," he told her. "You just DON’T GET IT, do you?" He gave her a sideways smirk. "YOUR Axolotl was so worried about how quickly you’d just go on breaking absolutely everything, that it HAD to intervene. It HAD to talk to you early, RIGHT AWAY. It HAD to set you going in ALL the WRONG DIRECTIONS, teach you ALL the WRONG THINGS," he told her, "To TRY and SLOW YOU DOWN. --You’ve got it ON THE ROPES and RUNNING!"

Miz blinked away some tears. "Oh… I hadn’t… thought of it that way?" She wasn’t sure Ax was running, that lazy butt just sleeps all the time but… "Well… I mean… I DID create an entire dimension as my first use of my powers… by accident…"

Bill grinned at her again. "EXACTLY. --Who DOES that?" he laughed out. "That’s supposed to be IMPOSSIBLE! Right?" He tilted his head at her expectantly. "It even ACKNOWLEDGES that you’re POWERFUL on the same level as IT is ALREADY." At least, as long as it wasn’t lying about that… "If not MORE powerful than it is, already."

"I… I’ve never tried to test my power against dad before…" Miz played with her tail in thought. 

"WELL." That was a bit faster than he’d thought she would get there. Hadn’t she not really wanted to kill it dead, before? ...Then again, she had progressed to realizing that the stupid lizard was flawed and did lie, since the last time he’d seen her in the fleshy-flesh. That said… "If you DO want to try and take it on, you’d BETTER be SURE that you’re going to WIN. Probably won’t get a SECOND chance if you can’t pull it off. That’s more of a ONE-SHOT thing."

Miz made a face. "I don’t… really want to fight dad. That feels kinda rude."

Bill nodded. He wasn’t about to push her. "WELL. You’d better be ready to take its place right away if you DO win, if you ever do that."

Miz gasped. "Take his place? Like… take over the recycling of Souls and creating new dimensions?" Bill nodded. "Maybe. If you WANT to do it that way. _I_ wouldn’t recycle them. I’M planning on cutting that stupid lizard out of the loop entirely, on that front, LONG BEFORE I go up against it!" And it wasn't as if she didn't already have the 'creating new dimensions’ part down. It was the very first thing that she did! Right?

She blushed. "I-I don’t know if… what if I mess up? That’s too much responsibility!"

"Well, you don’t have to do it RIGHT AWAY!" Bill told her. "I’M NOT. --Just because I’ve got an All-Seeing Eye," he hesitated, "that needs some WORK on it right now…" he added a bit more honestly, then continued on with the same level of energy as before, "DOESN’T mean that I can SEE or KNOW EVERYTHING ALL-AT-ONCE yet." He shrugged. "I know I’ve still got a LONG WAY to go!" But he was going to get there. Eventually. It would just take some time… But Bill was convinced he could do it. He _would_ find a way. ~~_He had to._~~

Getting rid of the stupid lizard wouldn't be good enough, Bill knew, because something would have to take its place. Otherwise, everything would eventually run down; SOMEBODY had to keep the party going! -- _And_ actually make it fun for everyone this time. And Bill didn't trust anyone else to do it other than himself.

Miz nodded slowly. "I don’t know if I even want to take Ax’s place. That’s… so much… so many things I would have to keep track of. Hell, I’m god of several planets and I have my hands full governing THEM. Let alone an ENTIRE dimensional set…"

"Well, maybe you’ll feel differently when you’re older," he told her. " _I_ learned a few things about that stupid lizard that made me angry enough that I’m going to do it. ...And if I can pull it off HERE," he told her. "Eventually I’ll be able to pull it off everywhere. I can do it for you, if you want. --Or I'll just toss it down without killing it and you can keep it as a PET!" he snickered. Because there was probably a way to cut a piece of they-it off from the rest of the whole It, come to think of it. Right?

"I’m… I guess I’m still considered young huh?" Miz mumbled. "Not even a trillion years old yet." She blinked as she caught his last statement. "I don’t know if I’d want to keep dad as a pet. But if you do kill the Axolotl, I would be happy if you left dad alive. I don’t want to lose him," she told him. She wasn’t going to stop Bill if he wanted to kill the AXOLOTL, as long as he didn’t kill HER AXOLOTL. It would have been a problem but Bill said he would take over Ax's duties, and as long as someone was in charge, that was fine.

Bill nodded. "Kind of figured that one out from what you told me, and Stanley, before. I’ll SEE what I can do!" he told her, then gave her a bit of a cagey sideways look. "...Let me know if you change your mind?"

Miz snorted softly, wiping the last of her tears away. "Eh, I dunno. I love dad, even if he’s an idiot. And if I do get mad at him, I wanna berate him myself. I’m working on my scolding voice!" Scolding the AXOLOTL, the idea was ridiculous. She let out a hysterical giggle at the thought.

Bill smiled at her.

"...So, what emotional waves are you feeling from me and that Stanford over there now?" he asked her.

"You’re Triumphant and Giddy. Ford is…" Miz glanced over "...Resigned?"

"Ah well, guess I’ll have to try something else, then," Bill said of the runestones. Maybe he should just share the basic theory instead. He glanced over his shoulder at Stanford. "Really? Resignation? He’s moved past overwhelming-and-all-encompassing-despair _and_ the panting cloudy haze of no-real-thought _already?_ " It hadn't SEEMED like they’d been sitting there talking that long…

"Well, your emotions right now feel really nice. I like the way they taste. You’re happy. That makes me happy." Miz assured Bill. "Mm, that’s fine for _now_ ," Bill said, wondering exactly how much energy was leaking out from him; he’d generally considered (and re-tuned) himself to be rather self-contained. (Was it all coming from his stupid human-ish body instead? With the anchor, he couldn’t exactly jump out of it right now and ask her if she could still sense anything from him, to narrow down if it was actually ‘mental’ energy or truly ‘emotional’ ‘waves’.) "But I’m also always mad. --From the sound of things, you aren’t a threat to us and _our_ own mental integrity. We’re a threat to you and _yours_."

"I just have to keep actively filtering any problematic stuff out and I’ll be fine. Actually, back home, whenever I get too upset, I go to Xanthar. He’s always got Calm and Content coming off him."

"Kid, you don’t get it," he told her. "It’s _ALL_ problematic, because it’s _all_ NOT YOU. And you can't actively filter when you’re asleep. Can you? --You’re medicating yourself on other beings’ emotions, instead of feeling and containing your own."

"....I like feeling them sometimes. A few of them taste good."

"Sometimes is fine," he told her. "But you should _also_ have control over _how much_ of them you feed on at a time, too, and how _strong_ you want what you internalize to be, relative to the rest of what you’re actually feeling at the time that you do that."

Miz nodded. He was right after all. "I’m guessing I need to add layers to my mental defenses?"

Bill nodded. "There are a lot of different ways to do it! I have my favorite methods, but they tie into and depend on a lot of other self-reconfigurations I’ve done to my own energy form over the years. ...I’m not sure what will work best for you. We may be the same, but we’re also different."

"Well, I’ve got time to test out different methods. I have enough control over myself that I won’t go around exploding anymore, so that’s good."

"Basic cross-spectrum control is good," Bill agreed. "I think we should start with what I’m starting with here -- exterior modifiers," Bill told her, pointing at the unhelpful rune-covered stones. "Figure out what you’re _actually_ doing first, by what does and doesn’t have an impact, and then worry about interior incorporation later."

"I could make a deafen barrier and set it to not-sound." Miz picked up a nearby rock and rubbed her hands over it. "Careful with the material interactions," Bill warned. "Most forms of magic I’ve ever Seen usually have that problem."

"Well, quartz would be the clearest type of crystal to work with." Miz squeezed the rock between her little hands and it _shifted_ , changing in shape and molecular structure until she was holding a large piece of transparent quartz crystal. "They have a very steady frequency so I can check for any changes and adjustments to the spell more easily…" she said as she poked at the crystal, carving little runes into it.

She blinked when the quartz pulsed lightly. She looked up at Bill and frowned. "Nope. I can still feel you." He nodded, and pulled his knife out again, along with another three stones from his pocket, to continue his own efforts to help, slow as they were. She looked back down to her own work herself and reversed the runes on the quartz, making it so they were never carved to begin with, and began carving a different set. Another experiment. She did this easily, as if rewinding an action that changed the physical properties of an object could simply be undone, like turning back time specifically on an object as opposed to the world around them. (Because it could be! ...at least if you knew how, like she and some other Bills had taken the time to figure out.) She did it multiple times before frowning and declaring, "I’m hungrier now." She had used up a pretty large portion of her power altering reality.

Bill looked up at this pronouncement and asked, "Your own Self is hungry? Or that vessel needs food for messy fuel conversion-to-energy?"

Miz thought about it. "A little of both. I have to use twice the amount of energy to do stuff here than back in my own world." She patted her stomach. "And eating physical food helps somewhat. Also, I just enjoy tasting things."

"Ah," said Bill. "That’s normal, I think. This dimension isn’t yours; you don’t get any optimization here, because you can’t just lean on anything, you have to force it." He thought about the second problem, and stowed his knife, to reach for his ‘cloned’ ‘smart’phone. With the way her vessels seemed to integrate with her energy-self better than his exoskeletons did him, the ‘eating’ and gaining some energy from physical ‘foodstuffs’ somewhat seemed like a possibility, depending on how her Self might be connected to it.

"It felt like this in Seb’s dimension too." Miz admitted, and Bill nodded at the confirmation. "And for food, I could technically eat anything and my stomach tears them apart on the molecular level and I feed on the energy released when their bonds are broken." She paused. "Kinda like a reactor."

Bill blinked. Then blinked again. Oh… He must have misunderstood her before. "You aren’t in the Mindscape all the time," he stated. "Even when you aren’t in a vessel? Except in your 3rd dimension?" he tried to restate.

She considered that. "I guess? I don’t spend a lot of time in the Mindscape, I prefer a vessel because I don’t like being ignored by people." She was unseen and unheard in the Mindscape. It was lonely.

"Right," Bill said, blinking again. He must have suffered from a logic blip there. "Your Self is homogenous and exists in the Mindscape. You only have a stomach in the vessels you create; you create your vessels to always have a stomach that exhibits those properties, to help you refuel," he stated, to confirm.

"Yeah. It’s more efficient." Miz felt proud of this aspect of her anatomy. Being able to use every bit of what she ate without wasting anything was something she felt good about. Bill paused for a moment. "...If you’re having overenergizing problems sometimes, couldn’t you just disconnect the stomach-reactor part from your Self?"

"Well, even if I disconnect it, I still have the excess of energy to deal with."

"But it would help you to keep your overall levels down, until you learn how to self-regulate and store and release excess energy differently," he pointed out.

"True. But being able to break things down on a molecular level means I don’t have to… ah… defecate…" Miz blushed. She was very disgusted by waste production. "...You could always put a wormhole in there instead?" Bill said, tilting his head at her.

"That…" Miz paused. "I could do that. I’ve teleported stuff I eat to somewhere else before. But I normally do that so I can eat it later. Like a stockpile of emergency rations." And because her taste buds were different in her different forms and she liked feeling the difference.

"HA! --That’s called ‘external storage’ kid. There are a lot of different ways to do that." Bill shrugged. "I don’t usually go with breaking down physical matter, usually takes me more energy than I get back out of it," because anything he was ‘eating’ in the ‘Nightmare Realm’ was at least partially destabilized, given where it was, and he couldn’t ingest destabilized energy without issues without stabilizing it first. "But you don’t have to process everything into energy before setting it to the side. Original-form storage is a thing, too." So were different forms of time-stop and stasis to prevent changes or decay in said externally-stored materials. He used to toss things through the wormhole under his hat for that, after stabilizing those things.

Ford finally moved, shifting in place. He was gripping at the grass, knuckles white, still trying to recover from everything he’d heard from them earlier. (He wasn’t there yet.) He’d been in and out for awhile, and not a lot had registered for a good while there. But some of the things they were saying now… only served to let him know exactly how badly he was off, because he was having difficulty following any of it, still lightheaded in the extreme…

Oh. Was he dreaming? He had dreams like this sometimes. He banged a hand against the side of his head, felt the resounding clang, and then slowly relaxed, collapsing down against the ground beneath him. ...Yes. He had the plate in. He’d met Jheselbraum; she’d put it in to help save him from Bill’s madness. So Bill wouldn’t able to… Oh. Ah, yes. He was dreaming. Of course. None of this was real. That was why nothing was making any sense...

Miz looked over. "...is it wrong that I actually feel bad for him?"

" _Stanley_ will likely be _thrilled_ ," Bill drawled out. Then he let out a short laugh. "WELL. ‘Thrilled’ would be the wrong word for it. But I think you understand what I _mean_." Bill dialed a number on his ‘smart’phone and put it to his ear, waiting for the house phone to pick up.

Miz nodded as she continued to watch Ford. She got up to approach him slowly, as if approaching a scared animal. "Are you… ok?"

"I wouldn’t," Bill cautioned her. It wasn’t like he hadn’t Seen this before. That Stanford likely thought he was dreaming, that everything that had been going on wasn’t real. Just the same old, same old. (...Well, except that that Stanford usually did this sort of thing while he was asleep, in his dreams, and Bill could physically move him someplace completely different while he was asleep to let him keep on thinking that… since that had been what ~~Sixer~~ that Stanford had wanted. For everything between two set points to have been seemingly only occurring to him inside of a dream. --Really, the idiot was getting even more inconsistent over time.) "He’s probably not even sure how far back it goes yet."

She turned to Ford, blushing faintly since her glasses were off but if she just gets used to it, she would be able to acclimate. "Is there something I could do to make you feel better? As a proper apology? Since I don’t know how else to do this?" She just wanted things to be friendly again. "I’m going to try to make it up to you, and not get mad at you… but I don’t know how to do it. I just don’t like how things feel here right now..." She frowned. "Though I admit, I’m only offering because I actually feel bad about you being like… this-" She gestured to how blank and confused he looked.

"Evvvvvvverything’s fine," Ford giggled out. "Whyyyyy wouldn’t it be fiiiine?" He shivered where he was on the ground. It turned into a grimacing shudder, as the thought occurred to him that… _when_ had this started? _What_ dimension was he currently in? ...No matter. It was fine. He’d find out whenever he’d wake up, and he didn’t have to wake up just yet, did he? And with that thought, Ford slowly relaxed again. After all, this dream was overall on the whole nice. --He was back home, Stanley didn’t hate him and he didn’t hate Stanley, he-- they-- had… niblings visiting them, because Shermie had had grandkids… Bill was there, but not killing anyone? Bill was always there in his dreams, sooner or later...

Miz nodded slowly. "Well." She said simply. "Well…" She turned a helpless look at Bill. "Will Stan be mad? I don’t want him to be mad again."

"Not at you," Bill told her, as he got up, to walk over and stand next to her. "Don’t worry about it."

"But this was sort of my fault? And I still want to apologize in a way that would work." Miz crouched in front of Ford and tilted her head at him.

"He did it to himself," Bill told her, then reminded her that: "He wanted us to ‘consider his presence nonexistent’, so when we talked to each other, we did just that. And he didn’t tell either of us to ‘stop’." Miz considered it and nodded. Well… yeah, Ford DID say that. And he didn’t tell them to stop talking. So… yeah? "Should we bring him back to Stan now? And then explain what happened?"

Bill let out a huff, hung up -- finally giving up on the main house phone, which had just kept RINGING and RINGING -- and tried dialing Shooting Star’s phone instead. "Working on it." (He wasn’t going to bring Miz back to the house until they had this emotional waves problem resolved -- which meant that _they_ had to come _here_ , as far as Bill was concerned.) _Finally_ , he head a pickup. "Hello? Shooting St-- _Pine Tree_ , fine. Hand Shoot-- ... _Fine_. Does Melody have the pancakes done? --Good, except there’s a _PROBL--_. Yes. --No, it’s more of a, hm, ‘fox-chicken-seed-farmer’ problem, and-- no, I don’t know which one Miz is, but Stanford-- … No, he-- … No, he’s _HERE_ \-- … … … … _What?_ " Bill listened to what was being told to him on the other side of the audio connection, and glanced down at Stanford Pines in something of a little bit of shock.

Miz was slowly approaching Ford in a crouch to see how he was doing. The man was still giggling softly. "Come on sir, do you want to go back inside the house? Sit down, get a nice cup of warm milk…" she asked gently, softly. Now she was worried he’d hurt himself somehow. It was hard to stay mad at someone when they looked so… sadly broken.

"No, he’s not all right, he’s an idiot-- No. --He didn’t tell us to ‘stop’. --We just talked like he wasn’t th--!! _FINE_. FINE, YES. … --No, _she’s_ wide open, there’s no effect on any of you unless she actively-- she _won’t_. ... No, not yet, which is why _I_ am going to stay here, and _you--_ … -- _Then ask for volunteers_ ," Bill snarled out at Dipper over the phone.

Ford just curled in on himself further, more giggles escaping him at odd moments, oddly smiling. He had one arm wrapped over his head in a not quite protective warding gesture, and the other wrapped around his midsection, half-hugging himself. Miz reached forward cautiously and held his hand gently. Loosely, so he could pull away if he didn’t want her touching him.

Ford didn’t react much to her touch physically, except that his giggles started to sound slightly more like sobs, because the last time he was certain that someone had willingly touched his hands had been… had been...

"FINE." Bill tapped the ‘hang up’ button on the ‘smart’phone screen, looking thoroughly annoyed. He let out a breath in a huff. "That idiot told them all to stay inside," he told Miz. "They thought he meant _him_ , too." Bill glared down at him. "They didn’t know he was out here with us." ...which meant Stanley hadn’t ‘signed off’ on him being out there with them alone, or even gotten the chance to decide whether he wanted to come out with him, or do something else. _Stanley hadn’t known._

Miz gently held Ford’s large wrinkled hand in hers and began petting it with her other hand. "Shhh… it’s ok… you’re ok…" She said softly. He kinda reminded her of Xanthar, back when she’d first found him. Broken and scared… though Ford seemed way more out of it. "Do you want to go back inside? Wouldn’t that be nice?" She tried to get him to stand up, gently squeezing his hand.

Ford didn’t want to get up. In his experience, his dreams usually lasted longer when he didn’t try to move around inside of them -- and at that point, he was out of it enough to assume that he was still on the other side of the portal. Because why would he have any reason to believe that Bill could _escape_ from the Nightmare Realm and then _still_ be stopped and defeated in the middle of an entire unstoppable Weirdmageddon? Even for just a little while? And who would touch his hand so gently like this? Not anyone, not any _real_ Bill Cipher… so he _had_ to be asleep with the metal plate in his head in...

Miz looked a little strained at the emotions coming off him. She couldn’t quite understand what they were. Human emotions were always a lot more difficult to understand than any alien she’s met, more potent too. She continued to pet his hand gently. "What did you do to him?" she asked Bill. She’s only broken someone a few times in her long life. She never liked doing it. Messing with people’s dreams to make them paranoid and jumpy was one thing, actually breaking them always left a bad taste in her mouth.

"You’re asking the wrong person that question," Bill told her. "I TOLD you -- _he does it to himself_." Bill found it annoying, really; he always had.

Their conversation was put on hold as they heard the crunch of footsteps through the underbrush. Shortly thereafter, Stanley, Soos, and Melody came into view.

Stanley was glaring, but he still took the container Melody was holding from her and thrust it into Bill’s chest as he went. "We are talking about this later," Stanley said, not well-pleased with the demon at all right now.

"I didn’t know that _you_ didn’t know--"

"-- _ **Later**_ ," Stan repeated, still more than a little angry with the kid, because the kid should have known that he would _never_ be okay with Ford being alone in the same room with him, let alone off out in the woods with him, for _any_ reason. Bill almost bristled at the brush-off, before taking a hold of his own temper, pushing it down, and nodding once. "Fine. Later."

"--It’s _not_ fine," Stan said angrily, fists clenched at his side, as Soos slowly started to lever Ford to his feet, with Melody hovering at the side a bit to try and help catch him if need be. Miz was forced to step away and let go.

Miz sniffled. Her eyes were tearing up slightly as she let go of his hand. "I’m sorry…" she said, actually meaning it this time. "I was just talking with Bill and then Ford started getting… weird…" She was starting to understand why Stanley was so protective, if Ford was this delicate. "And then he got weirder and Bill said he did it to himself? But I didn’t know he was this bad off…"

Stan stepped forward and not quite caught his brother, as Soos tried to get him upright and Ford’s feet went nearly out from under him. He was far more preoccupied with helping his brother out than handling anything with the pair of demons at the moment, starting a fight or yelling at them or anything else. They weren’t trying anything _right then_ , and Ford came first. Getting his brother away from the two of them and home safely was the higher priority right then. (And Stan knew if he engaged with them right now, he'd likely end up taking a swing at the kid. And then…)

Stan ducked down and got under his brother’s shoulder, got him mostly up again properly, with a hand holding his wrist across his shoulders and another arm wrapped around his back to grab at his waist. Ford staggered for a moment, then looked up and leaned heavily against his brother at recognizing him, though it took him a moment.

Ford’s face lit up in a relieved grin, " _Stan-- Lee_ ," and he started to laugh… then leaned on him even more heavily and his laughter quickly morphed into sobbing. (Stan gritted his teeth and held on to his brother, held on to his temper...) Tears streaked straight down Ford’s cheeks; he was too far gone at the moment to even think of being embarrassed, and he thought it was all happening safely inside his own head anyway, no-one would ever know...

"Um… is there anything I can do to help?" Miz asked softly, still sniffling.

"Figure out your stupid emotion thing, and stay out here until I come get you two later," Stan said tersely, angry as hell at the two demons as he turned away from the two of them and slowly helped his brother take the staggering steps with him that he needed to take in order to get back to the house. Soos followed at Ford’s other side, ready to help catch him if he needed to, and Melody gave Bill a somewhat disappointed look, before she turned away and started walking back with the rest of the boys to the Shack.

Miz sniffled as they left. Bill shrugged it off as something he’d have to handle ‘ _later_ ’. He sat down and unwrapped the plastic bag Stan had shoved at him, pulling out the two containers of hot chocolate and pancakes, respectively. Miz reached for the pancakes and ate them quietly.

Bill opened up the thermos and poured out a cup of the beverage into the top cup, then held it out for her to take from him. Miz sipped the liquid, coughed and blew on it to make it cooler before she took another sip. "Did I do bad?" she asked.

"No," Bill said. "It would have happened sooner or later." He sat back on the grass. "Was thinking about trying to explain the problem to Stanley a bit better before it did, but…" He shrugged. He’d only confirmed multiple Bill Ciphers to Stan for the first time a few days ago, and last night was the first time he’d done it when he’d had the uncontroversial evidence right in front of Stanley’s face of this fact.

Bill rubbed the side of his hand against his right temple. "Only way around it would be to try and change the idiot’s perceptions so he’d never recognize another Bill Cipher as existing or being a Bill Cipher. And that would be dangerous." Bill had been putting off tossing the multiple-Bills fact directly at that Stanford’s head because Bill didn’t know what the final outcome would be when that Stanford bounced back this time. He’d been hoping to maybe get a bit farther with Stanley first, enough that he could ask him to help make that assessment.

Miz nodded, hiccuping slightly as she sipped the chocolate. Ooh… it… was really good… hadn’t had chocolate sin-since… she hiccuped again, swaying slightly. Oh. She shook her head and shoved another pancake in her mouth. She should probably eat more before she drank more… huh… she had thought it was the liquor part of the chocolate liquor but… huh… chocolate…

"...Miz?" Bill blinked at her when she started swaying.

She swayed again. She probably shouldn’t drink anymore of the chocolate… but it was delicious. Ah...she wanted to drink anyway...

Bill narrowed his eyes at her. "...It’s the chocolate, isn’t it." He’d seen these sorts of reactions to chocolate before in denizens the multiverse-wide.

Miz nodded slowly before hiccuping again.

"Try changing the caffeine and the portions directly connected to those hydrocarbons to water, instead." Bill didn’t know the specifics of how Miz set up her vessels, but water shouldn’t hurt this one, he presumed. --His suggested change didn’t always work, and did mess with the taste a bit, but sometimes it did work and that was enough...

Miz nodded before she frowned at the cup and thermos. She hiccuped again. "Uwu…" she whined. At least she hadn’t drank too much of it yet. If she just waits a little, it should pass. She sipped it and made a face. "It doesn’t taste as good now." She complained. "So I’ve heard," Bill agreed. "But did it work?" Miz blinked and shook her head. "I dunno yet." She ate another pancake, hoping it would help. It normally did.

"Mm." Bill set down the thermos at his own side, to reduce the temptation, and then pulled out his knife and the partially-completed next set of rune-covered stones for Miz to try, to keep working on those. He was running out of ideas himself for what might work, or what wavelengths or means she was using to pick up on those ‘waves’, whatever they actually were.

Miz ate the pancakes and waited for her body to burn through the caffeine. The dizziness was fading, which was good. She wondered what it was about Earth chocolate that caused this. The chocolate-like stuff she found out in the multiverse didn’t cause such a reaction.

Bill continued to work quietly. He seemed largely at ease with where he was, what he was doing, and who-with.

\-----

Miz finally got an idea. If the problem was being unable to isolate her ‘sense’ for emotions, then she simply blocked ALL her senses. Sight, Smell, Sound… the whole lot of them.

When she explained it to Bill, he looked a bit horrified at the idea of her effectively blinding herself to everything ON PURPOSE. (It was something of an anathema to him, counter to how he’d thought about almost anything he’d ever done before -- the more information the better, the more ways to gather it the better, and you get everything you can first and then filter it later. ‘Turning senses off’ was very different that ‘turning down the volume’ or ‘filtering what you can See or hear’ and similar. He considered the latter to be just another type of regulation, and he’d always thought of the former as being akin to excising capabilities from one’s Self.) He hadn’t quite tried to stop her, but it had taken some serious explaining on Miz’s part before he’d stopped trying to talk her out of trying it.

She felt a little odd with the blindfold on. She’d set up a ‘spell’ on it so that it would block ALL of her senses and slowly work her way backward. She couldn’t feel anything at all. Not even touch, she was sure she had her hands on her face, pressing against the cloth she had tied around her face but she couldn’t feel it. Ok. This was a start. No emotions were coming through. Now she just had to slowly adjust this spell to allow her senses back, one by one. It would take a while and she resolved to start with her sense of touch so she didn’t accidentally press too hard on her face and gouge out her own eyes or something.

Miz was moving oddly as she sat on the leaf chair, tilting and swaying as she lost her sense of balance.

Bill’s hands twitched. He usually didn’t have the impulse to reach out and try to _touch_ or _grab_ \-- he’d largely gotten rid of that instinct a long time ago, after only his first few thousand years in the Mindscape -- but right now? He very much did want to reach out and correct her swaying, to give her a sense of the boundaries around her and still her uncontrolled motion. But Miz had explained before starting this how that would be distracting, and so he didn’t.

He didn’t like this though. Being ‘blind’ for even short periods of time was highly dangerous, in his experience. Miz had told him she trusted her "Big brother" to make sure she was safe, though -- and that was _exactly_ what he was doing just then for her, continually scanning the area and looking for signs of trouble.

Miz slowly adjusted the spell, allowed back one of her senses. She could feel the chair under her now. She gripped it when she realized she was falling over and huffed out a breath. Still couldn’t see, hear, smell or the others but this was a start. She breathed deeply and concentrated on unhooking the next sense. She chose hearing this time so she could at least talk to Bill. "Hello? Testing…" She heard her own voice. Ok, good.

"Testing what?" Bill said, confused.

"To see if my hearing is back." Miz responded. "Which it is. That’s good."

"Good." Bill smiled. ~~He still felt a little nervous (HAHA, nervous? who’s nervous? not _Bill!!_ his little sister was fine!) as he continued to keep up his area checks--~~ \--Ah, he couldn’t get too distracted by talking with Miz to not keep track of his scanning-spells!

Miz tilted her head as she poked at her own spellwork. Ah. Looks like she would have to make a choice. If she unlocked too many senses, the spell would fall apart. So she could get 3 back safely before the spell got too unstable to adjust any more. So… that left the question of which should be the last sense. She had touch and hearing so far… the obvious choice would be sight but… well…

Miz bit her lip in thought. Well… she could always swap out later, there were WAAAAY more senses than just five after all, not all of them were the kinds people thought about. She sighed. "I can only have three senses active at a time if I want to keep the suppression spell up," she told Bill. "I have touch and hearing, but I don’t know what my last one should be."

Bill blinked. "Why hearing and not sight?"

"Because I like being able to talk to people and hearing their responses." Miz said. "Also, I have trouble telling people apart and their voices are a helpful way to tell who is who."

...Trouble telling people apart? Bill shook himself, filing that away for later, and took a moment to respond. He was still keeping up the scanning-spells, and it took longer for him to think through things as a result.

"Synthesia is a thing," he told her, as he flicked through a few things on the visual interface he’d made to watch things. "You have touch, and… sight won’t be problematic?" He glanced through a few more things. "You can just amp up touch and translate the sound waves to something you see in front of you, or… we can set up a spell in the bracelets to translate it over to visual input for you automatically."

"Well there’s also sense of distance, sense of time, sense of balance…" Miz mumbled. She was lucky that touch was close enough to help with balance, but she was going to stumble a little.

"Distance is usually mapped to touch and sight for humans," Bill noted. "Time sense is… tricky. _I_ don’t have that right, right now, myself, even. Balance should be related to touch, but interior; you can’t open that one up a little more broadly without problems?" he asked.

"I can push for it… but that would override the 3rd slot for sense." Miz sighed. "Y’know, it’s fine. I don’t need to see, right?"

Bill was quiet for a moment.

"If it was me," he began slowly, "I would pick sight, touch, and…" He hesitated. "Taste. Because you like eating. I’ve been able to find analogues for almost everything mapped to what I could See, including sound, except for Touch." If she couldn’t push it without losing a ‘slot’, she likely couldn’t open up sight to include Seeing sound waves, but… he thought a bit on that.

Miz thought about it. "Alright, I’m pretty good at lip reading so if I’m watching then I would be able to know what people are saying."

Bill nodded. "And there are technologies -- not even magicks -- that species without Hearing can use to communicate with ones that do rely on it. Look up the Universal Translators that I have here?" he recommended.

"Ok, so...Sight, Touch and Taste…" Miz concentrated and reworked the spell, shivering a little as all sound cut off again. She reached up her hands to push the blindfold up so it rested on her forehead like a headband. She squinted and blinked a bit to get used to seeing again. The silence was a little disconcerting but she couldn’t feel any emotions… except her own, but that was a weird feeling too. Distant, somewhat. Was this what it was supposed to feel like without psychic powers making everything more… vibrant?

"...Testing?" Bill said, turning away from his spellwork setup, to look over at her and move his head into her vessel’s field of view.

Miz blinked. "I can’t hear you, but I can tell you’re saying ‘testing’," she said, the volume of her voice a little shaky. It would get softer and louder as she seemed to adjust to speaking without being able to know how her own sounds came out.

Bill nodded. He flicked his hands through the one of the more common sign languages used by some dimension-travelling species to ask, ‘Can you See still? Or is that suppressed, too?’ It hadn’t quite occurred to him to ask it of her until now.

"I can see with this vessel’s eyes, but I can’t See," she said. "Which, I think would actually reassure Stan and Ford."

‘Yes,’ he signed at her, dourly. ‘But you should spend the time now before we go back Seeing anything you think you need to, before we do.’ He paused. ‘Taking off the blindfold immediately lets everything back in?’ he asked of her. If she didn’t think to actually test it, he’d recommend it to her next. She needed to understand how disorienting it might be to go from almost-nothing to everything… It wouldn’t be quite the same as slipping from the Mindscape into a vessel or exoskeleton, because her All-Seeing Eye was also being restricted currently.

Miz nodded. She slipped her thumbs under the cloth and lifted it. It slid on and off easily, so if there was an emergency she’d be alright. She shivered when all her senses returned all at once. "Ah… I’d be distracted for a few seconds of putting it on or off. But I’m fine otherwise," she said.

Bill nodded at her.

"Should we ask Stan if I’m allowed back inside now?" she asked as she put the headband back on. She shivered at the oppressive feeling. She still thought this was unnecessary but if it would help Stan know that she was trying to be good… she thought of something. "How would I know if the kids say ‘Stop’?" she asked.

Bill frowned. He hadn’t thought about that. It took him a minute. ‘They can sign it at you.’ He made the normal universal gesture. ‘Just don't talk when you aren't looking directly at someone who could hear or see then and relay the _stop_?’ Annoying, but it would work. ' _No_ might be more of a problem, though,’ Bill realized belatedly. ‘You can't just NOT do ANYTHING unless you're looking at someone who's paying attention to everything-and-you.’ Even Bill wouldn't be able to pull that one off. And 'no’s tended to require an immediate, near- _instantaneous_ stop-check and response.

Miz sighed. "It’s fine, I can trade taste for hearing. It’s fine to eat bland food for a while…" She was saddened by that but unless she could get the twins to find a very obvious signal for ‘Stop’ and ‘No’ there would be issues. "This is frustrating." She sighed.

‘We could eat outside the barrier for meals,’ Bill signed to her, as he took down the scanning-spells. ‘You could swap hearing and taste just for then? Or go farther out and take it off entirely?’

"That’ll work. I should ask Stan if that would be acceptable?" Miz asked.

‘Yes,’ Bill agreed. ‘He’ll want to give input.’ Bill stretched and sighed. ‘He may even come up with a better idea. He does that sometimes.’

Miz swapped out taste for hearing and sighed. "Well, should we call Stan and ask if I can go back inside now?"

Bill nodded and pulled out his phone again. He called Shooting Star's phone first, this time. ...And it went straight to voicemail. Bill frowned. He tried calling the main house line again, and got a pick-up there. "...Yes. We have something that works. She can't-- yes." He paused. "No, I didn't…" Bill grimaced. "Yes. ...Fine. ...Yes." He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the disconnect button.

Bill let out a breath. He turned to Miz. "Melody says ‘yes’ to coming back inside, but ‘recommends we stay in the attic room until she tells us otherwise’," Bill paraphrased heavily. "Stanley isn't happy, and he doesn't want either of us near that Stanford for awhile."

Miz nodded, standing up and wavering a little as she walked carefully. "Alright. That seems fair." She snapped the bracelets back on. "I do hope Ford feels better soon."

"HA. -- _Technically_ ," Bill said with a bit of an odd look in his eyes, "He's feeling _BETTER_ right now than he was _before!_ " he told her, with something of a nasty grin, as he began walking back to the Shack alongside her.

"Has Stan considered taking his brother to therapy?" Miz asked. Actually… now that she’s here… in a world where therapists exist… could she ask Stan if SHE could get therapy?

Bill gave her a sideways look. "So he could sob to someone about ‘how he feels’, and then LET them root around IN HIS MIND to DO THINGS to him?" HA! _That_ wasn't happening! That idiot couldn't even manage to talk to the rest of his Zodiac about things. Why would Miz think he might even consider talking to a _stranger?_

"Aren’t they supposed to help?" Miz muttered. "Doesn’t Ford want to get… less broken?"

"Help? Maybe. If you trust them to. _And_ if they're actually worth trusting. … _And_ if they know what they're doing." And that was a LOT of 'if's. "Besides, that Stanford is incapable about talking about other dimensions with Stanley, Shooting Star, and Pine Tree as-is," he told her. "Well that sounds… dumb. How’s he supposed to get over his issues if he refuses to acknowledge them?" Miz stepped carefully, watching where her feet needed to go.

"Oh, he acknowledges them! ...most of them," Bill noted. "But if you ask me, I think -- HA, I _know_ \-- he's afraid that they'll HATE him if they finally figure out what he's REALLY like!" Bill told her brightly.

"That’s even MORE stupid. They love him." Miz pulled on her shirt. "Stan loves him even when he’s… the way he is. And I doubt Mabel would hate him unless he shot someone to death in front of her."

"Mm," said Bill. "Maybe?" He looked away from her. "But maybe he wouldn't love them."

"If Ford doesn’t love them back, I would be legitimately angry with him." Miz grumbled. "They care about him a lot. If he doesn’t like them back… that’s… just really mean." It’d be such a dick move.

"No," Bill said. "You misunderstand." He looked back at her. "If they had done what _he_ had done, and felt what he felt, and think what he thinks…" Bill looked away from her, as the Shack came into view. "He might not love them anymore." He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. "He might hate them, instead. Because they screwed up. And did something wrong. And couldn't ever fix it. And keep not being able to fix it. ...So why wouldn't they feel the same way about him?" He grimaced, and said lightly after that, "And what kind of person must they be, to forgive someone like that, if _he's_ supposed to be good, and _he's_ supposed to be the hero, and _he_... can't, and he thinks that maybe he shouldn't?"

"But that’s… so sad." Miz was sure that no matter what it was that Ford might have done, Stan would probably still forgive him. Stan had said he had celebrating people dying before. So, he would probably forgive Ford regardless.

"Mm," said Bill. He dropped his chin. "Maybe. ...Counterpoint: maybe he deserves it!" Bill told her with a wild and absolutely-false grin. ...And it wasn't Stanford Pines he was thinking on when he said that, his mind full of memories of someone yelling at someone-else about how _someone_ was a monster.

"I don’t think that’s a reason to stop loving someone… even if they did something awful… if they… try to be better and not do it anymore…" Miz hugged herself. After all, she’s done plenty of awful things.

Bill let out a laugh as they made their way up onto the back porch, bypassing the area with all of the Mystery Shack goers. "You REALLY don’t understand how Stanfords work, do you," he told her, as he opened the door. "Not forgiving 'unforgivable things’ is a specialty of theirs!" And there was a great deal of anger underlying Bill's apparent amusement at what he clearly he thought was a stupid 'quaint' notion, as he said this.

Miz looked over before going back to making her way through the shack. "I’ve only met your Ford and Seb’s Ford. I’ve seen another Ford before, but it was inside another Bill’s memories. He… was also a jerk… I’m worried. Are all Stanford’s just jerks? I don’t want my Ford to be a jerk…"

"Yeesh, you're asking _me?_ " Bill told her. "I only know what things are like around _here_!" he made a gesture. "Never Seen any of your dimensions. A LOT of things sound _very_ different there. --You want my advice, though? Don't let the stupid lizard put any Stanfords on your Zodiac if you can help it," he told her. "Even the ONE 'nice’ Stanford I could find in this dimensional set is a bit… tricky," he admitted, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

"Well… I’ll be extra careful when mine finally comes along…" Miz looked at the stairs and held onto the wall so she wouldn’t slip.

"Careful might not be enough," Bill told her. "In MY experience, when a Stanford decides something… it's decided. You’re done. --’Changing your mind’, what's that?" Bill laughed out. "And it has nothing to do with what you can or can't say about any of it, because they may just decide to stop LISTENING TO YOU, too," he told her. "...At least when they're awake," he told her, then muttered, "Inconsistent."

They made their way upstairs. Miz sighed. She had wanted to hang out with Mabel today. But like always, she just messed things up. "Well, I have no reason to collapse my 3rd dimension into the Nightmare Realm or do anything awful to it, so he shouldn’t have a problem with me."

Bill blinked at her. "What do you mean?" he asked, as he made a gesture and fixed the sound barrier and the lighting as they entered his attic room.

"..." Miz wasn’t sure what Bill was asking about. "Well, I’m not trapped in my Nightmare Realm, so I don’t need to get out of it."

"Yes," Bill said. "What's your point?"

"So if I’m not gonna harm the 3rd dimension, my Ford probably won’t get mad at me?" Miz tilted her head. "Isn’t that the reason your Ford got mad at you?"

...It was probably a good thing that they'd made their way up into the attic by that point, for how loudly Bill started to laugh.

And laugh.

And LAUGH.

By the time he was done, he was laying flat-out on the floor, panting and complaining of "...body… ...spasms..."

Miz settled on a pillow and watched Bill gasp. "Am I misunderstanding something?" She wondered if the misconceptions were due to her unconsciously thinking this world followed Canon. It DID seem to… on a surface level… but perhaps there was something very different going on.

Bill slowly got back control over his breathing, and let out a loooooong breath. "WOO! Oh, THAT was SOMETHING!" He turned his head to look over at her. " _Who_ said anything about DESTABILIZING this DIMENSION?" he asked her, smiling. Really, the whole point of getting _out_ of his old decaying dimension and into someplace -- _**anyplace**_ \-- else was for him to be able to get to someplace _stable_ where he could work from. Destabilizing the underpinnings of this dimension and collapsing it had _never_ been on the menu. --He’d held that ‘rip’ the ‘rift’ had made in a mental grip made of triple-reinforced titanium steel. It hadn’t been getting any larger than he wanted it to be, and he’d been planning on closing it himself, later. ...once he was sure about his Henchmaniacs following through on doing what they were told. In the meantime, he’d been leaving himself a really _VERY_ obvious backdoor to kick them back through if they didn’t. Demons did better with in-your-face and unmistakably eye-popping visuals -- things that just could _not_ be overlooked, Bill had found.

"I think I’m getting the backstories of different dimensions mixed up." Miz groaned as she leaned against the wall. "So what WAS the plan you were going for?"

"Getting out," Bill told her. "That was Phase 1. Phase 2 was TAKING OVER, with a little ‘help’ from my Henchmaniac friends. Phase 3 is… well," Bill made an odd sort of gesture. "Everything else. Wanted to give myself a bit of _flexibility_ ," he told her, "Without any real _deadlines_ to worry about. Had enough of _that_ to last me a trillion more lifetimes with that stupid prophecy," Bill muttered out angrily.

"....So Ford’s just mad because he didn’t want you taking over the 3rd dimension?" Miz huffed. "Back in my world, the Federation does that CONSTANTLY. They invade a planet, plant themselves in a seat of power and rule over it."

"Oh no," Bill told her. "He’s _just fine_ with ‘just’ authority doing _whatever-the-hell-they-want_. No problem with that! --No," Bill told her, "He just complains about how I’m going to ‘destroy the planet’, ‘destroy everything’, yadda-yadda-yadda, _whatever_." Bill rolled his eyes at the thought. "--Oh, the last time I tore down a dimension was SEVENTY BILLION YEARS AGO! Why Bill, how _horribly unforgivable!_ And, goodness, I did it _more than once?!_ \--Why, that’s _EVEN WORSE!!!_ " Bill cried out fakely, pretending to speak in tones of clutching-at-pearls horror. "--Oh, I _just won’t LEAVE HIM ALONE!!_ or _stay OUT of HIS HEAD!!_ Boo hoo!" He tossed the back of his hand across his forehead. "--Oh, I help out my friends when they want to commit a little mass-murder for some quid-pro-quo? What’s wrong with you, Bill; _why_ did you DO that, I can’t _even imagine_ ," Bill waved off with that same hand. "‘ _No_ , Bill, you _shouldn’t_ kill people who want you dead for doing all these horrible things, _that’s wrong_ ’," Bill complained. "‘Why won’t you just DIE already before you make everything _worse_ , Bill; nobody LIKES you’." Bill made a chuckling sound.

"How is defending yourself when someone tries to kill you, wrong?" Miz pulled her legs up to her chest. "I mean, I try not to kill people if I can help it just ‘cause it’s annoying to deal with, but people back home know that as long as they don’t mess with me, I won’t kill them. Anyone who DOES attack me _should_ know what they’re getting themselves into…" she mumbled. "And of course I help my friends if they wanna do stuff. Though I do tell them to keep the mass-murdering on a smaller scale, bailing them out of prison all the time is annoying." She mumbled, "Stupid Time Baby…"

"--Ah-ah-ah! Mass murder is a no-no with him. So congratulations, you bring _that_ up around _this_ one, and he’ll want _you_ dead, too, same as me." Bill looked at her seriously. "So **don’t do it**." Bill frowned. "As far as Sixer is concerned, ‘people who don’t deserve to live should just die’," Bill related to her. "Which is going to be a problem with him later," Bill muttered, looking tired as anything. "It’s not like I go around killing people _specifically_ unless they cross me directly and piss me off; too much work, why would I even BOTHER otherwise? It’s a waste of my time," Bill grumbled out.

"Who is he to judge who deserves to live or not?" Miz sighed. "What authority does he have?"

"Why, he’s the ‘hero of the story’, of course!" Bill said with a great deal of false levity and a boatload of sarcasm. "It’s what he WANTS, after all."

"Hero? Or protagonist?" Miz tilted her head to the side.

"Both," Bill told her.

"Great, so he’s a chuunibyou…" Miz laughed somewhat hysterically. Figures, if he really has a hero complex.

"Chuuni--...?" It took Bill a moment to match it to the correct human language, what with his stupid fleshy human-ish body slowing his energy Self down (as usual, since he’d returned). Once he did, he started laughing hysterically all over again, kicking his feet, the whole nine yards.

"Well he IS, isn’t he?!" Miz giggled. "Oh Ax, that’s…" She snorted.

"HE IS!!" Bill sputtered out between laughs and sporadic giggles. "OH! Ohhhhhhh…" He collapsed against the floor, truly at a loss for words. "...I … _really_ should have spent more time looking through more human-things sooner," he said finally. "You’re all SO AMUSING." He’s Seen plenty of things over the millenia, but most of it he’d just automatically viewed, catalogued, and stored. He hadn’t _consciously_ gone through all that much of it -- only what he’d thought he’d needed here-and-there when he’d been making Deals with people. What else had he been MISSING OUT ON, for being in such a _rush?_

"Thanks!" Miz giggled.

"Mmmmm..." Bill hummed out, feeling a bit odd. (He wasn’t used to the endorphins, or how they were acting on him, and with him ‘lower down’ in his body than usual, with how Stan had been pushing and encouraging him to do that more and more over the past few weeks…) He blinked up at the ceiling slowly, realizing he was feeling very… _relaxed_.

Miz laid down beside him, pressed against him but not otherwise touching or holding him. It felt… quiet in her head. Her thoughts were still running around at high speeds but… it was less… cluttered? She wasn’t sure how she felt right now. But it wasn’t bad.

It was too early in the day for sleep though. She blinked slowly. "Hey Bill, you ever watch anime?" If her powers still worked, she could project the episodes on the wall with sound bubbles to make this a whole, theater-like experience.

Bill looked over at her, perfectly fine with how she was pressed up against his side. (It was actually the closest he’d felt here yet, to how things had _used_ to feel to him, back when he’d "just" been a triangle in his old dimension, well before the fire.)

"That stuff Question Mark is into?" he asked of her. "Define ‘watch’." He’d glanced at and flickered through a few things he’d Seen, in keeping watch on his Zodiac. ‘Giffany’ had been a bit… _yeesh._ \--Say what you want about Question Mark, but Melody was a much better pick for him, Bill figured. More his speed, and overall _much_ quicker on the uptake without missing the important bits. "Real-time, not sped-up, just sitting and _watching_ \-- not _Seeing_ \-- watching?" He’d only been recently introduced to the experience here, doing that with his Zodiac, a few times since he’d come back. It had been a bit… different. "Will there be talking? Or no-commenting-just-watching rules in effect?" If he wanted the latter, he could just scour his memories for _that_ , and might as well run through it as sped up as possible inside his own Mind.

"Just watching it real-time with the eyes of our physical bodies. Enjoying the moment and just experiencing it the way humans do. No Seeing to know what the ending is, just watching it." Miz raised her hands to make the illusion appear on the ceiling above their heads as they laid on the ground.

"Hmm. That’s fine!" Bill said. He was up for whatever she might like to show him, and ‘the way humans do’ sounded like there would be talking involved, then. In a quick cross-section check of a few things he had stored away from using his Eye, talking had happened more often than not in what’d he’d seen overall, in what humans did. "Which one is this?"

Miz nodded and put on the first episode of Baccano. She’s watched that series so many times she knew pretty much every scene by heart. "It’s called Baccano, it’s my favorite. Ok, first off. This anime is purposefully told out of chronological order, sliced into short segments from all the different characters points of view." She grinned. "We’re supposed to piece the story together ourselves as the episodes go on and we find out more of the story."

"Sounds like a usual Seeing session from a full set of inset-eye symbols, then," Bill commented. It would be nice to see something like Seeing something again. He hadn’t been able to use his own Eye properly since he’d been back, and when he’d used it the afternoon before, it had HURT.

Miz grinned and clicked ‘play’ in her head.

\---

Over 6 hours later...

Miz was still giggling. No matter how MANY times she watched this show, she still loved it. Oh Isaac… Miria… if only they were real. She would want them to adopt her. They would be the best/worst parents...but they were immortal! So they would never die and leave her...

"So… what’d you think?" She turned to grin at Bill. She thought he liked it. She couldn’t ‘feel’ if he liked it but he laughed multiple times and had a wide grin on his face for a lot of it, especially during the fight scenes. Though he did snort and mutter, "Do fireworks _really_ charbroil a human body like that?" and had seemed a bit distracted for awhile, as he’d tried to calculate that one out via the chemistry and the physics. She eagerly awaited his assessment of her favorite anime.

"THAT--" Bill laughed again. "THAT demon had a SENSE of HUMOR!! --Setting all that up!" he grinned. Now Bill kind of wanted to do something like that. Usually he needed to intervene multiple times to steer things his way. But the pure CHAOS of it? That had just seemed _entertaining_. "Did humans really come up with that? Or is there a dimension that was really like that, that influenced them?" he asked, curious.

"Well, if there WAS a dimension where those events happened, I haven’t found it yet. So, to the best of my current knowledge, a human came up with this story. Ahhh~" Miz squealed as she rolled around. "And it’s sooo much fun!! It’s sheer, utter chaos!"

"It is!" Bill laughed out.

They both blinked and looked over at the stairway as they heard a lighter set of footsteps, before Melody called out, "Bill? Miz?"

Bill waved a hand lazily to make the audio barrier two-way again, then spoke out, "Here!"

"It’s time for dinner," Melody told them both. "Come on downstairs, now. And remember to wash your hands." They heard her footsteps recede.

Miz blinked. "Dinner already?" Her stomach growled. "Ah. Right, we DID just sit through 13 episodes…"

Bill blinked himself. "Ah." He winced slightly as he slowly levered himself up. "Mm." Miz was stretching and groaning as her spine made popping sounds. "...downside of physical bodies… ugh…"

"Well," said Bill, "When you follow the original Rules set, yes," he told her. He slowly pushed himself to his feet. Miz rolled around until she got up, wobbling a little from the sudden movement. "Well, I’m hungry. Here’s hoping this dinner conversation ends up being less… problematic," she muttered. She made her way over to the stairs to slowly lever herself down.

Bill followed more slowly behind her.

By the time they had finished washing their hands in the upstairs bathroom, and were downstairs and had entered the kitchen, Melody and Soos were seated at the kitchen table, and Stanley had already finished cooking and was seated as well. Dipper, Mabel, and Ford were nowhere in sight.

"Sit down," Stan said, not even looking up at the two of them.

Bill actually looked vaguely uneasy, as he saw the two empty chairs open, and one toast-sandwich already made up for him on the one plate. Miz sat down quietly. She wasn’t sure if she should say anything. She wasn’t even sure if she should apologize.

The rest of them were eating quietly. Bill looked annoyed, as he picked up his toast sandwich and ate his way through it. It didn’t take him more than a minute, and then he just sat there, looking more and more irritated, and more and more tense.

Miz looked at the food. Hamburgers and salad. She got one and bit into it, chewing quickly as she fed her aching stomach. She looked over the salad to see it had various fruits mixed in with the leafy greens and vegetables, and it all looked fresh from the produce section. Oh. Melody looked at the little girl and scooped some of the salad onto her plate. "You need to eat your vegetables, too," the woman said. Miz nodded but frowned and picked some of the fruit out to set aside.

Bill kept glancing back at the toaster, then around at each of the people.

"You shouldn’t be picky with your food." Melody scolded Miz lightly as she took in the growing pile of fruit chunks. Miz shook her head. "I’m allergic to melons," she said quietly. Melody looked surprised. "Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know."

"It’s ok. I’m ok if they’re touching, just can’t eat the actual thing itself." Miz finished picking out all the melon bits and chewed on her salad. She was allergic back when she was human, and it somehow carried over into her vessels when she built them. Sort of like… an unconscious way of feeling like she was still herself.

Suddenly, Bill shoved himself to his feet.

"Sit down," said Stan. "NnO," Bill said, looking less irritated and more angry now.

" _Bill_ ," Stan repeated, starting to shove himself upright.

Bill twisted away from him, turning towards the counter for just a moment. Then he turned back again and leaned over the table instead, to grab up the entire serving bowl that had the salad in it. He immediately sat down with it again, holding it in his lap, and practically spat out at them all, "-- _MINE_."

Stanley stopped, about halfway out of his chair. He half-squinted half-glared at Bill. "What."

"Mine," Bill repeated, to which Stan looked annoyed. "You don’t take things from this table that you won’t-- eat..." Stan stopped talking when Bill grabbed up the serving spoon and shoved a good portion of the salad straight into his mouth.

Stan stared.

Bill chewed, swallowed, and didn’t look entirely happy with what he’d just eaten. But he also took another spoonful and bit into that, too. Miz glanced over but shrugged and continued nibbling on her own salad.

Stan slowly sat down, watching him.

Bill didn’t exactly look like he wanted to pitch the bowl across the room on the second bite, maybe just kind of close to it. By the time he got through the fifth, he seemed about as fine with it as the toast sandwiches. By the ninth, he was more mechanical about it than the toast and seemed largely indifferent to it -- which was _better_ than how he’d reacted to anything he’d eaten before, to-date.

"Kid…" Stan said slowly. He’d never seen the kid eat so much at one sitting, ever. (Something about this wasn’t right, and Stan was very sensitive to the problem of not getting enough food to eat. It also didn’t sit right with him that the triangle hadn’t been eating much before this -- despite Stan making it clear that he could eat anything he wanted, however much he wanted, no strings attached -- and now there was this sudden change and he didn’t know why.)

"Um… Bill? Did you… not have lunch today?" Melody asked in worry. She hadn’t thought to check on him all day, he didn’t come down for lunch and she assumed he had some sort of snack while he was upstairs in his room. She glanced at little Miz who was ravenously eating her way through a 2nd burger already. "Oh."

Stan looked over at her. "You didn’t--" Stan let out a sigh and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He’d forgotten to tell Melody how things usually went with Bill and mealtimes; he’d just assumed... He hadn’t even thought that maybe she wouldn’t call him down for lunch, or make him eat. He’d been too busy watching over his brother and the kids that day, and too pissed off with both the triangles to risk talking with them any earlier in the day than now. He’d needed the time to cool off before he went off half-cocked and did something seriously stupid... like hauling off and punching the kid in the face when the demon wasn’t trying to hurt Ford _right then_ , no matter how much he’d wanted to then, and wanted to still.

Stan dropped his hand and looked up at the demon. "Bill, did you not eat lunch today?"

He frowned as Bill refused to answer.

"Sowwy--" Miz said with her mouth full. "--We were watchin’ anime… and lost track of time." Not that she was capable of sensing time right now.

"‘Course you did," Stan muttered. "Melody, you gotta bug the kid to make sure he eats, and actually _watch_ him do it. I asked you to babysit him and Ford, yeah? They won’t feed themselves." Stan told her. "If they don’t come to the kitchen on their own, you gotta go get them and bug ‘em until they do. Most days they don’t."

"Sorry Mr. Pines, I hadn’t realized…" Melody sighed. Soos patted her back. "It’s okay, dood. We’ll remember next time," he told his fiance cheerfully.

"Yeah," Stan said, looking over at the two demons at the table. "You shouldn’t have to, though. They shoulda come down on their own, or at least broken into a couple of those cracker boxes and water bottles the kid’s got upstairs." He sent a long look at Bill. "You should be taking better care of your little sister, yeah?" he added, because maybe _that_ would get the triangle eating with a hell of a lot less prodding.

Miz was already reaching for a third burger. Her salad was finished off already. Picked clean aside from the red watermelon bits.

Bill was still eating.

"...That’s more than two sandwiches worth, kid," Stan said after a while, slowly leaning back in his chair. "You want to tell me what’s going on?"

Melody frowned slightly. "Did I not make enough pancakes this morning?" she asked, somewhat obliviously. Miz raised a hand. "Sorry, I ate them all…" she said sheepishly. "They were really good though!"

Stan was frowning at Bill. "The kid don’t eat most stuff. Just burnt toast and crackers. He won’t touch pancakes."

"Oh," said Melody. She usually didn't cook for the Pines; she’d only done it this morning and this evening as sort of an emergency. Whenever she’d seen Bill in the morning or afternoon, he’d always been fixing his own breakfast or lunch of that toast-with-jelly sandwich, which is why she hadn’t thought it was a problem that she hadn’t seen him eat that day; he’d always seemed to do it on his own, as far as she’d known. "Bill, does that mean you didn’t eat anything for breakfast? You left your toast on the counter this morning," Melody noted, and that had Stan looking over at her.

Bill twitched. That didn’t stop him from taking another bite of salad, and not looking at any of them. Miz looked over. "Well… he’s eating now?" She wasn’t sure why. She was a little frustrated she couldn’t See why.

"Bill, did you eat breakfast _or lunch today?_ " Stan repeated, turning back to Bill.

" _Penalize_ me for it," Bill snarled out at him.

Stan looked grim. "How many times."

" _Twice_ ," Bill spat out, before taking another bite of the salad. It had been a large bowl, and it was almost gone.

Miz glanced between them, having no idea what was going on. "Did I do something bad?" She wondered. Stan glanced over at her. "No, you didn’t. The kid needs to not skip meals." He tossed his napkin onto the table and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "He barely eats enough at most meals to keep going on to the next one." He didn’t look very happy with Bill. Though after glancing over at the transparent bowl when Bill shoved it back up onto the table, he looked back over at Bill and said, "...Usually."

"I’m sorry for distracting him with anime and forgetting to take a food break." Miz said. "I literally cannot keep track of time right now--" She gestured to her headband. She looked down at the burger and sighed; she couldn’t taste anything but she was hungry so she ate anyway. Thank Ax that hunger mapped to Touch.

"Pretty sure the ‘big brother’ is supposed to be the one responsible for that sort of thing," Stan told her. "Right, kid?" Bill grimaced. There was a pause as Stan considered Bill for a long moment. "You know I wouldn’t have told you to sit down if I knew you were getting more food, right?" Stan put out there.

"Tch," said Bill, looking away from all of them again.

Stan pulled in another breath and let it out. "I’m thinkin’," Stan said slowly. "That _maybe_ you weren’t thinkin’ too clearly this morning, because you hadn’t eaten." Stan put out there. "Is that right, kid?"

"I was thinking fine--!" Bill began hotly.

"--You _know_ I don’t want you in the same room as Ford alone, and the last time the two of you were out in the woods together, he was trying to run you down, shooting at you," Stan cut in with, overrode him. "That alone should’ve been a big fat warning flag, because the _first_ time I ever gave you a penalty, it was because you’d approached Ford upstairs when he could’ve _shot_ you if he’d been armed and you didn’t know whether he might’ve been armed or not. _This_ time he _absolutely_ had a gun on him and you _did_ know it."

Miz looked back and forth, wishing she could look up this event and follow along. "Um… I would have blocked the shot if he did try to shoot?" She said meekly. 

"Kid wouldn’t count on that," Stan said, still looking at Bill. "Not the way he thinks. --So what was it this time, kid?" Stan said, raising his voice slightly on the last. "Too tired? Too hungry? Not learning your damn lesson from the last time? More than one of those? Or _all three_."

Bill was twitching, and he didn’t look particularly happy.

"...maybe…" Bill began, then stopped.

"Maybe?" Stan said leadingly, almost challengingly.

"...maybe the being-hungry," Bill muttered out, almost under his breath. He didn’t look particularly happy though. He hadn’t exactly wanted to believe that hunger might actually be a factor that could screw with his thinking that much, either. He hadn’t liked admitting that about sleep until he’d had it smack him in the face and had to face that one, either.

"...I get grumpy and do stupid things when I’m hungry too…" Miz admitted. She had killed and eaten a bunch of people. That… had been distressing. "It makes it so certain things seem like a good idea… but after you’ve finished tearing someone’s arm off you realize it really wasn’t…"

"Uh huh," Stan said neutrally. "See, your kid sister does it, too." He was still watching Bill. "So walk me through it, kid," he told Bill. "If you know what you did there wrong. Where did you screw up in your thinking."

Bill swayed in place very slightly. He was pushing his hands against the side of the seat of his chair.

"...I was thinking of that Stanford as Sixer," Bill said first, and that had Stan straightening in place before squaring his shoulders.

"Yeah?" Stan said, practically staring holes in him. "Why." The kid shouldn’t have been doing that. He’d thought they were finally past this.

"Because he said he was there to help," Bill said slowly. "He didn’t try to shoot M-- me. _Or_ Miz. Either of us." Bill stopped for a moment. "He was acting more like a ‘Sixer’, and I didn’t question that, even though I know better now and our Deal is off." Bill looked away. "That was the first mistake." He looked back down at the tabletop in front of him. "Then I thought it would be better for him to be there, and that I should give him something he wants for his helping. It was the wrong kind of thinking that you don't want me doing anymore, the Deal-kind," Bill said, and though his voice was mostly flat, there was a lot of anger underneath it.

Stan let out a tired sigh. "Yeah, okay, you know where you screwed up," he said. "Not the same thing." He looked up at the kid. "You thought he wasn’t gonna shoot you."

"No," said Bill.

Stan looked at him. "No, you thought he wasn’t going to shoot you? Or no--"

"--I thought he might shoot us, yes," Bill said. "I wasn’t worried."

Stan narrowed his eyes at Bill. "Why weren’t you worried."

Bill looked up at him. "He can’t kill Miz. He can only kill her vessel, and she can always make a new one."

"I don’t believe that you’d put up with that for a second, kid," Stan told him. "And that also doesn’t cover _you_."

There was a long tense silence as Bill and Stan stared each other down.

"-- _Show me_ ," Stan demanded abruptly, and it wasn’t a half-second later that Bill had swung his left arm up, made a handgun gesture at the salad bowl, quickly went through a flinging motion--

\--and the bowl flew in a straight-line across the room to shatter against the far wall, faster than the rest of them could react to it. (Belatedly, Soos and Melody shoved their chairs away and gasped, trying to understand what was going on.)

"What??" Melody gasped out. "What the heck was _that??_ " After a few weeks in town now, and more than a few interactions under her belt with cryptids like Bill and Miz, it had startled her more than scared her, but it had still been completely unexpected.

"Science," Bill said, still holding eye contact with Stanley. The next thing Bill did was slapped his right hand to his left forearm and shove upwards -- and for a moment, after doing so, an odd visual flicker occurred. For a moment, something like part of a dark-colored bodysuit was visible along Bill’s left arm and hand, with a sort of metallic grey sci-fi exoskeleton-tracery of support structure that was running parallel to his bone structure along the outside of the suit, with odd-looking small boxy components attached here and there to it.

"Right," Melody said shakily. "Science." She slowly sat back down in her chair. Soos’s wide-eyed, "Woah, triangle dude. Crazy sci-fi stuff," didn’t exactly cut the tension, but it did interfere with it a bit.

Stan sat still for a long moment where he was, just keeping eye contact with Bill. This was _not_ something he’d expected from the kid. (Honestly, this was the kind of bullshit thing he’d expect from a pissed-off, super-smart, rebellious teenaged version of _Ford_ \-- well, if his brother had been a pissed off demon with _maybe_ some common sense, a huge chip on his shoulder, and no morals whatsoever… -- and Stan was trying desperately right now not to let it throw him off his game more than it already had.)

Miz looked over and flicked her fingers. It was a lot of work to repair that bowl, the process wasn’t as seamless as she’d be able to with her full power, but the barrier around the shack kinda prevented that. She could use weirdness within the small anti-magic bubble her bracelets made around her, so she could convert it into other forms of non-magical energy, but the types of things that would work under the Shack’s barrier outside of Bill’s room were limited. She couldn’t reverse time to make it so the bowl never broke, but since it was glass, she could do something else. The pieces glowed and melted together as she created and redirected some heat to merge the shards back together. She was trembling with the effort though. Damn. Anti-magic/weirdness barriers were a bitch to work around. "Uh…" she grunted. "This barrier is really strong…"

"Oh, Miz," said Melody, standing up and going over to the shivering girl. "You’re freezing!" she gasped. "Stop! You shouldn’t do that indoors if it does this to you. Couldn’t we just have taken the pieces outside?"

Bill broke gaze with Stanley first, lowering his arm from its final held pose and turning back towards Miz -- almost as though he couldn’t help but do so, once Melody approached her and started getting in close.

Miz shivered. "But… broken glass… someone might have gotten hurt…"

"That’s what brooms and dustpans are for," Melody told her. "You shouldn’t do this sort of thing." She gently rubbed Miz’s arms and was relieved to feel her slowly warming back up. "Is there anything you need sweetie?" she asked. Miz looked up at the woman. "Some warm water? Please?" She asked. Melody nodded. "Alright." she straightened up and walked over to the counter to microwave some water for her.

Miz huffed. Been a while since she’d used her powers in such a way. It was… interesting. She shivered and waited for her body to heat back up. Next time, gonna redirect heat from another source. Actually…

"Should I built a telekinetic bracer for myself too?" She wondered. It looked useful.

"Yeah," Stan said slowly. "That’s a question. Where did you get that, kid?"

"I made it," Bill told him, lowering his arm down to his side completely. "Lab Day one, after I took over and cleared out the spaceship space enough, to get the universal manufacturing unit in there operational again. Had to leave before the unit finished making everything for me, barely had time to input the design specs for the process before we had to head back for dinner," Bill told him, "But I picked it all up the next day." He glanced over at Miz. "General specs should still be in the machine. I can make another one for you too, in your size, if you want," he told her quite seriously.

"So you didn’t have it on you that night," Stan said, and Bill looked back over at him. "No, I didn’t have it on me then," Bill confirmed.

"But you’ve had it for five days," Stan said. "You’ve been wearing this thing for five days."

"Yes," Bill confirmed, looking him straight in the eye again, and it pissed Stan off a bit that not only had he missed this, but that it also brought up the question: _what else had he missed?_

Miz was sipping some hot water as she thought about Bill's offer to get her a telekinetic bracer.

"Wouldn’t using a kinetic energy converter be more helpful? That way I could change the type of output into more than just Force-type effects?" Miz suggested, only partially paying attention to Bill and Stan’s conversation, more lost in thought about different configurations. "Like I could convert it into Heat for stuff like fixing glass… or roasting animals for food…" She drooled a little at the idea of shooting fire from her hands using TECHNOLOGY. Ehehehe… she was having fun imagining it.

Ok, so a part of her had always wanted to go on a cool, sci-fi space adventure… but she hadn’t really gone for it because she was too embarrassed to be out in the multiverse, LARPing…

Bill and Stan both blinked and looked over at her. Bill did first, as he became distracted from his confrontation with Stanley by the ‘Force-type effects’ mention, because it took him a moment to scan through things he’d Seen in the past, to figure out exactly what human-thing she was referring to there. Stan started staring because he hadn’t expected her to sound so… _geeky_ about anything, even if the kid did with the words he used talking about things sometimes.

"Actually… I could probably build a basic all-purpose hand device instead if I used my normal powers outside the shack to make a Feshermian Crystal… it’s not quite the same thing but the show never went into detail about that..." Miz muttered to herself, lost in thought. "Eeeee~ would that be too obvious? Are there Goa'uld here? Would it be considered cultural appropriation?"

"Dood," said Soos, "Are you talking crazy sci-fi gadgets? Because if you are, then you should _totally_ go with the Professor What-downbird’s Completely Awesome Yelling Torque Wrench." Soos grinned. "That wrench can do _everything_ ," he said with a starry look in his eyes.

"Uhhhhh," went Stanley, not quite ready to interject, except that he had a bad feeling that...

"But the Torque Wrench doesn’t. Work. On. Wood." Miz huffed. She could easily pick up what Soos meant. Also, she’s been watching the weird Alternative Universe versions of shows from her world in the future of her own world too! How else was she supposed to fill billions of years?

"But that’s why they went on that whole Epic Quest of Questitude in Season 23, dood!" Soos pointed out. "To get that Submolecular-Shrinking-Proof Wood Saw Extension Kit for it!"

"Ugh, but it looked so TACKY afterward!" Miz complained. "And the Professor lost the damn thing in that black hole like… half a season later!"

"Yes." Soos stood up in place, took off his fez, and solemnly held it to his chest. "A requiem for a short, but beloved addition, to the Professor’s happy repair arsenal. The Extension Kit shall be missed." He bowed his head. Miz bowed her head too. "...But then the writers retconned it and made the sacrifice completely void," she grumbled, as Soos sat back down. "I stopped watching after that. It was just… too annoying."

...yep. Stan felt both vindicated and annoyed. He’d known what was coming; he’d known Soos for that long. "Soos, no talkin’ about crazy TV show junk at the table," Stan complained at him grumpily. "That’s stuff’s for the TV room only! And I don’t know why you watch that junk anyway," he added. "It ain’t like Duck-tective or nothin’," he said, as he picked up another burger.

Miz and Soos gasped in unison. "You can’t compare the two! Professor What-downbird is a Sci-Fi classic!" Soos said. "It LITERALLY inspired all human Sci-Fi shows to EVER come after it!" Miz added. Soos chimed in right after her with, "The sound effects in the theme song are LITERALLY the iconic music used for any and all Alien encounters in OTHER movies and TV shows nowadays!" Soos shook his hands at the sky as he dropped out of his chair and fell to his knees.

Melody was giving Soos a fond, exasperated look. Stan was resisting the urge to bury his face in his hand. Bill wasn’t sure how to feel. And, pretty soon thereafter, somehow the two of them managed to shift their conversation from sci-fi television to video games, since Stan had only said they weren’t allowed to talk about _TV_ except in the TV room. Thus, video games. Specifically, JRPGs.

"--Look, Maigis is Best Girl and nothing you say will ever convince me otherwise." Miz stared Soos down surprisingly well despite being half his size. The former handyman scoffed. "No offense dood, but like, Kitsuru is Best Girl. She’s like, super smart and competent. She’s running her own company, like, the boss of it." He laughed a little sheepishly. "And any man would love to be stepped on by her."

Miz gasped. "But Maigis is the most loyal! She’s the only one who doesn’t abandon you and stays by your side up until the end when the main character literally dies in her arms!" Miz argued. Soos held up his hands. "Look dood, I don’t wanna start a fight. Maigis is great. But I like Kitsuru best." He put his hand down to her. "So let’s just agree to disagree and let bygones be bygones, ok dood?"

Miz looked at his hand. "I won’t shake your hand, but I will accept, because I’m not supposed to start a fight and only just realized that I almost started one with you," she said. "Sorry. I’m still trying to figure out what is and isn’t something I’m allowed to do."

Soos shrugged, his easy going nature making it simple for him to just accept things as they were. "Sure dood." He laughed. "You know a lot about human stuff despite being a dragon-lady."

"Eh~ human entertainment is literally the reason why I’ve placed my own 3rd Dimension and Earth under protection. I won’t willingly harm a human because any of them might, MIGHT have a possibility of creating something fun and interesting…" she told him seriously. "Like, a lot of them are boring idiots but there are some creative spirits out there and I plan to note down any stories they might come up with."

"You seek out creativity?" Melody asked. She wasn’t sure what exactly was happening but she was good at picking up context clues. She had to be, to figure out what Soos was thinking half the time. Miz nodded, more relaxed than she had been when she first came downstairs. Her tail was wagging back and forth cheerfully. "I seek out creative minds. I like seeing what they can come up with, what they can do if I just give them a little push of inspiration!"

Melody smiled. "Well, now I know why you and Bill get along so well," she said, looking over at him.

Bill blinked at her. Then he straightened up abruptly, looking a bit nervously tense -- almost anxious. "She’s a writer!" Bill said, pointing at Melody. "She writes all the backstory for those FCLORP sessions that Question Mark does now!"

Miz blinked and smiled brightly. "That’s super cool!" She praised. "Thank you," Melody said, smiling. "But I can’t take all the credit." She looked back over at Bill. "Bill’s been helping me with the GM’ing quite a bit."

"Setup and advice, just that!" Bill said, looking away. "And maybe some spells." He shifted in place. "And maybe some villains." He shifted in place again. "...And maybe some settings." He was hunching his shoulders slightly. "......And maybe some quest rewards and prizes." And now he looked almost… guilty? Shifty? Dare Miz even say… embarrassed?

Miz turned her head to give Bill an incredibly mischievous grin. "I didn’t know you FCLORPed." She giggled. "I GM for my friends back home for our D, D and more D session too!" She assured her poor, embarrassed (nerdy) big brother. Bill blinked, and straightened up in place, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed again (without the tail). "I don’t FCLORP," he told her. "I was an NPC!" he explained with a grin.

"That isn’t quite how I would have described it, Bill," Melody said, suppressing a bit of laughter in her tone.

"Dude kicked our butts," Soos told Miz, without embarrassment. "He was the big bad who kicked off our whole new campaign. We got captured and sent to the mines of Quel’histor." Soos smiled happily. "We’ve been tryin’ to get back to the mainland and beat his minions and mini-bosses to find him ever since."

Miz blinked. "Quel’histor...like...the planet? With...the unstable plate tectonics that cause massive lava flow?" Bill looked away, and got a touch of that just _slightly_ nervous look again. Miz tilted her head. "Well, inspiration comes in many forms," she said simply, which had Stan giving Bill a long look.

"Huh?" said Soos, a little lost by this. "No, dawg, it’s all just one big planet," he told her, trying to explain. "It’s the world of Elonemar. Quel’histor is a volcano, but _epic_. It used to be a mountain, but then this _evil wizard_ \-- Uh, not the same evil wizard NPC dude that Bill played for us--"

"--Soos, honey, we could just let her read my setting and backstory notes for the campaign?" Melody offered. Miz wagged her tail. "I would love to read it! It might give me some ideas for what to throw at Pyronica in our next game. She’s been murder-hoboing everything I send at her. It’s so frustrating! I spent hours writing up an entire questline and then she kills and eats the quest giver before he can tell her the location!" Miz groaned at the memory of it.

"Well, then," Melody smiled. "You should _definitely_ talk to Bill. He’s the resident expert. He gave me some tips for dealing with that, just last week."

"Eh," Bill waved it off. "It happens. You handle it." He paused, then got a sinister look. "Easiest _way_ to handle it is to drop them in a scenario where everything that they can murder-steal from other NPCs is either sentient and ownership non-transferrable, or alt-race alt-class unequipped-cursed." His expression became truly evil. " _ **Or both**_."

Stan wasn’t sure how to feel right now. He really didn’t.

"This house is overrun by geeks and nerds," Stan complained, as he pushed back his chair from the table, which got him more than a few smiles. "The lot of ya. Don’t know why I put up with ya."

"Aw, we love you too, Mr. Pines," Soos said, going in for the hug.

"-- _SOOS!_ " Stan complained as he got glomped while standing in place. "Ugh. _Fine._ You got your hug, now _let go!_ " Stan said, shoving at him. Soos was still smiling as he let go.

"You’re the best, Mr. Pines," Soos said.

"Yeah, yeah," Stan grumbled, brushing it off. He looked overall happier though, even if he did have a slight frown going.

Miz pointed at Stan and said clearly, "Tsundere." There was absolute silence as everyone stared. Then Bill just _lit up_ , letting out a single "HA!" and then nearly fell out of his chair laughing. Soos looked very encouraged, while Melody was unsuccessfully trying to muffle her own giggling, too. Her face was already a bit pink from the effort.

"What?" said Stanley, looking around at all of them confused, but knowing it _had_ to be an insult. " _What?_ "

"It’s okay Mr. Pines, we love you anyway," Melody told him, wiping a tear from her eye. Soos looked pretty happy, as if a long standing doubt had finally been cleared.

"....aaaaaaaaah body spasms..." Bill panted out, face-down on the kitchen table.

"Rest of you, I swear," Stan muttered. He shook his head and started walking out of the room. Bill noticed this first, and he started to call out, "w--" then stopped. Stan still heard him, though. He turned around and stared back at him, where the kid was still sitting at the table, barely levered up by his elbows, staring after him. He almost looked a little lost, and definitely unsure.

"I gotta think about the penalties, kid, and everything else," Stan told him. "The whole thing today was a mess, start to finish. And there were a couple things that I didn’t catch, too. We’ll talk later." He turned away slightly. "Mostly, we need to make sure that this _doesn’t_ happen again," he said far more seriously, and with absolute authority.

Bill blinked after him, as Stan walked out of the room, and they heard his steps do down the hallway, then a door on the first floor open and shut.

Bill slowly turned back to the others.

Melody smiled down at him kindly, but her smile was also a bit strained, now. "I think you two should really get to bed," she told him. "Soos and I will clean up down here."

Bill stared at them for a moment. He slowly got up.

Miz put her plate in the sink. "Thank you for dinner." She said as she bowed quickly to Melody. The woman smiled and waved her off. "You’re welcome. Now make sure you have a good night’s rest." Miz nodded and walked over to follow Bill.

Bill waited for her, then started to walk towards the staircase... and stopped at the base of the stairs.

He turned back to them and asked, "Did Pine Tree and Shooting Star and that Stanford have anything to eat for dinner?"

Melody looked slightly surprised, but she nodded and told him, "We made it all a bit early, first, before coming up to get you. Mr. Pines and Soos took their share of the food to Dr. Pines’ bedroom."

"Right," Bill said. "Good." He turned away and walked right up the stairs, not quite slowing down to wait for Miz until they were almost at the top. Miz wobbled a little on the stairs, keeping her eyes on her feet to make sure she was stepping correctly as she climbed.

Bill realized he’d almost outrun her at the bottom of the final flight. He was a bit expressionless as she caught up to him, and this time he let her go first.

Once they were up at the top, he waved the one-way sound barrier active again, and looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment.

Then, and only then, did Bill say, "Sorry," to her, before he passed her, moving farther into the room. She didn’t deserve to have him run off ahead of her. He felt guilty about that. He should have been paying attention.

"It's ok." Miz said softly. "I'm still getting used to this." She laid down on the blanket and curled her tail up to hug it to herself. Bill didn't like hugs too much so she wouldn't force it on him. After a while she said quietly, "Good night big brother."

Bill shifted slightly in place, swaying just a bit. Another sort of uncomfortable expression crossed Bill’s face for a moment, but the moment passed, and then he clenched his fists and looked firm.

Bill walked right over to where Miz was laying down on her blanket, turned around, and laid down, right at her back, back-to-back with her. And then he shoved himself back another inch to initiate physical contact with her.

Miz moved her head before wiggling to press a little closer. She didn't try to turn and grab him but she relaxed into the touch.

"It’s fine," Bill told her. "It’s fine."

He made a small gesture and let the light globes spin down a bit low. There were no shadows still, the lighting just became a bit less intense.

Miz hummed a faint Lullaby as she closed her eyes. She felt… safe. Even with her Sight restricted. She wasn't sure why. With Seb and with Bill, she just felt… safe with them. Like she used to feel with her little sisters. Like she used to feel with Will.

Bill’s eyelids slowly fluttered shut.

"I’m sorry," he repeated quietly. "I’m sorry." She didn’t deserve to have to keep her Eye closed shut. She didn’t deserve to have to put up with his Stanford. Miz continued humming but said softly. "I don't mind. I'm just… happy to be here with you."

And for one very selfish moment, Bill thought about what would happen if that broken-Bill never ever went away, and he just… didn’t help her get back to her home. If he lied and said that broken-Bill was still there, when maybe it even wasn’t.

...Except then she’d be trapped here, when she’d never even been trapped anywhere before, and it made Bill want to _scream at himself forever_ , for even thinking it.

No… he’d help her get home. He’d find a way to rip apart that broken Bill for her, and then she could go home and leave him all alone again. It was fine.

It was fine.

~~_It wasn’t fine._ ~~

Bill fell asleep to the sound of Miz humming.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Awwww~ BlueBill is crazy, but he's just as lonely as Miz was. There's no way she'd leave his side until she was sure he'd be ok without her TT_TT
> 
> (Edit)
> 
> ALSO!  
> [This!](http://quantumseahorse.tumblr.com/post/183132612740/illusion-is-reality-maniac-diary-a-canonical)
> 
>  **My AN:**  
> ...Bill Cipher being insane is news? ;) ;) And yeah, that's very sweet of MizBill *coughs* ;)
> 
> I get that YMMV with what's happening with Ford (and potentially with Stan's responses as well), both here and in the next chapter (and a bit beyond). I'll be writing a fic that expands upon what Ford's thinking here a bit further, later. Same with Stan's thinking in general.
> 
> The basic rundown for now is, (1) part of what I'm trying to with -A is make things a little more realistic, and that includes trauma and abuse (yes, Bill was and is heavily abusive to Ford, both in-canon and here in these -A 'verse fics, _which is bad_ , and hopefully I didn't really have to say either of those things to anybody); (2) a not-so-much-in-remission paranoid!Ford basically got slapped in the face with the idea/fact that even if he kills Bill, he'll never be safe because other demonic Bill Ciphers will probably come here and _seek him out_ , for one reason or another, _and Ford fully understands what that means for him and his family_ , **and** he knows he can't keep any of them safe for forever; (3) Stan is fully and consciously aware of the fact that hauling off and hitting or hurting or trying to kill Bill for this outright will just get himself and the niblings killed and his brother tortured _even worse_ not all that much later -- in less than a year at most, even if they did somehow end up managing to kill Bill somehow, given how quickly Bill came back to life the last time.
> 
> So, yeah. Hopefully all this was apparent from the stuff in the fic above and later, but kinda all in one place now down here in the AN, ha.
> 
> FYI, I also am planning on writing that "Thirty Years" fic with snippets/episodes of Ford's time on the other side of the portal, as well. It will explain a lot of Ford's seemingly over-responses to all thing demonic in a great deal more detail, I think. Going to have to add a lot of warnings to it, though. (So much headcanon stuff that just isn't written for the -A verse yet, I swear. Ahhhhh…)


	3. Chapter 72: Meaning is determined by conscious judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> I wasn't trying to hurt people. But I still end up doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 82 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/42084683). It was first posted on Mar 4, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\---

The next morning, Melody brought breakfast up to the two demons, and they ate upstairs. Stan hadn’t been all that thrilled at the idea of the two of ‘em getting breakfast hand-delivered to ‘em, but there hadn’t been a better way to handle it, far as he could see. He wasn’t gonna lock Ford in his room downstairs. It wasn’t long after he finished breakfast with Ford and the kids that Stan made his way upstairs to finally sit down and have a one-on-two talk with their resident demon and his little sister.

(Stan was feeling a little better, because his _brother_ was feeling a little better that morning… sort of. Stan had had the better part of a day to try and calm down, and realizing last night that the kid hadn't eaten had… well, he was still pissed with the kid about that, but he also knew how off the rails the kid's already messed-up thinking could and did get when the kid wasn't trying to get away with skipping meals (let alone adding further bad judgment and literal 'logic errors’ on top of that when the kid hadn't eaten anything in too long). ...Stan was at least pretty sure now that he was past the point of not being able to stop from punching the kid in the face at the first wrong word, at least. Finally. He still hadn't really been feeling it that morning, yet; it was why he'd sent Melody up, instead of going up himself earlier.)

Turned out, as Stan's head passed the level of the floor, that Stan still didn’t have to ask permission to walk on up and in; he just could. (And he guessed he probably would so long as he didn’t take back the kid’s blanket permission to sleep in his room downstairs, come in whenever, and all of that jazz. Kid was very tit-for-tat on a _lot_ of stuff with him, so far.) He didn’t call out to the kid like he usually did when he came upstairs (because of Ford, he didn't want to risk his brother overhearing him, and what might happen after that), but he did make sure to be his usual noisy self coming up the stairs so the kid could stop him or say something if he wanted to.

When Stan walked in on ‘em, they were finished eating, stuff all cleared off to the side by the stairs, and Bill tilted his head at him -- just like he usually did when Stan sat down on his bed, and Bill sat down on his -- the same way the kid always did right before they tried talked things out facing each other.

There were no beds in here, though, so Stan suppressed a groan as he sat down. (He was gettin’ too old to sit on the floor if he didn’t need to.) Bill and Miz were already seated on the ground right in front of where he’d decided to sit. ...Well, yeah, okay, Bill was seated on the ground, Miz had gotten a pillow to kneel on. (Stan had considered grabbing one of those other pillows off in the corner, but it had looked like too much trouble. ...Eh, it wasn't important.)

"So, you got that emotion thing under control?" Stan asked first off. He figured it was best to get that whole mess outta the way first. Melody had said that Bill had said that Miz did, but he figured he’d better get the whole story outta the two demons himself. Devil was in the details with the kid, so, yeah.

Miz nodded at him, reaching a hand up to her headband, a pale yellow piece of cloth tied around her forehead. (Ugh, why did it have to be yellow? Ford was gonna…) Stan sighed but didn't actually question her color choice. He had other more important things to question, like... "So how's it work?" Stan grunted out at them.

"It shuts off every single one of my senses," Miz said. "And I modified it to allow a few of them back. I can only do three before the spell breaks under the strain."

Stan paused, then frowned. That sounded pretty extreme. "Explain," he said gruffly. She had to be able to see and hear him, from last night at dinner and now, but he wanted the full story here. (Demon. Details.) He watched Miz as she played with the cloth a bit, rubbing at it. "I have the sensation of Touch enabled. So any physical sensations are fine. I can tell how much pressure I'm exerting when I touch and hold stuff. And I can feel pain both internal and out." She placed a hand on her stomach.

Stan nodded. Okay. That was one of ‘em.

"I got Sight because I need it to… well, see. But not See. I have my eyesight in this vessel but I don't have my All-Seeing Eye." Stan’s eyebrows went up at this, and he glanced over at Bill, who looked… pretty damn uncomfortable. Yeah. This was a big deal.

"And I was going to forego hearing because I'm pretty good at lip reading but I realized I wouldn't be able to hear if anyone said 'No’ or ‘Stop’ which meant I needed hearing," Miz concluded. Stan stared at her, noticing the way she shrank back in on herself a little bit as she talked. "What were you gonna pick, that you wanted more than being able to hear people talk?" Stan asked. It didn’t get past him that she’d apparently picked something she wouldn’t have otherwise, in order to try and follow an agreement she hadn’t even really agreed to yet.

Miz blushed, which confused Stan. "Taste," she said, which confused Stan even more. That wasn’t like Bill at all, the kid hated eating as far as he could tell. (Then again, he’d seen Miz eat, and she acted like…) "One of the reasons I take this form--" Miz gestured to herself "--is because it has human-like taste buds," she said. "My triangle form doesn't have taste buds that work like this and everything I eat tastes kinda bland."

She looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers, tugging at them one at a time. "I enjoy taste. It's unfortunate that I had to go with hearing instead."

Stan stared at her. Yeah, okay. That was different. --But who would rather be deaf than unable to taste shit, though? Whole thing here was messed up. Stan shook his head. "Right. But you're sure you don't feed off our emotions anymore?" Miz nodded. "How do you know that?" Stan asked neutrally, continuing his questioning.

They went over how they’d tested it, and the whole thing of whether she’d been affecting them at all in the first place, versus them affecting her, and what was different now. Stan sort of got over the course of talking about it -- with Miz, Bill seemed to be staying out of it mostly except for confirming things sometimes when the kid seemed to think she might need backing up -- that their ‘emotional waves’ or whatever that came of of them were something that Miz couldn’t block out.

So, with what she’d said she’d been angry about two nights ago, of course the topic came up: if Miz could taste emotions, shouldn't she have known Stan wasn't bothered by Ford's comments, known that Ford wasn’t trying to hurt Stan, but had been hurting because of what _she'd_ said? The girl looked away, ashamed. "I was projecting, and angry and wasn't… thinking properly. Ford made me upset and I didn't want to let that go. I wanted to upset him back," she mumbled. "I'm going to try and not do that again." She couldn't face Stan, feeling much like a chastised child and hating it. "Is… is Ford… well, I know he's not ok, but is he doing better?"

Stan realized that Miz wasn't lying or just being 'polite’; she was actually worried over Ford's well-being. Huh. Hadn't expected that.

"He's doing better. --Not good, no thanks to you two," Stan told them with a grumpy anger, and he noted the guilty expression on the sort-of dragon's face. She was very expressive and didn't seem very good at hiding her feelings. He remembered what she’d acted like when she’d been here last time with that other friend of hers. She had tried to lie to him, spin up some tale. He hadn't fallen for it.

Her expressions when she actively tried to lie were more subtle, sure, but ‘more subtle’ wasn’t _actually subtle_. He’d seen that at the breakfast table yesterday morning too, what with lying about the glasses. She hadn’t been much better at it then; he still would’ve caught it, without having actually known what the glasses did before she’d put them on herself, absolutely. The only thing that had surprised him at the time was that she was actually better at lying than the kid seemed to be. (--Well, faster and smoother at it, anyway. He’d never seen the kid try to pull a lie off the top of his head before, and most anything Bill tried to pull with _him_ seemed to be more of a ‘leave stuff out’ thing, not a ‘lie to your face’ thing.)

But it was all still pretty easy for Stan to see through, at least for him -- even if she had managed to take the niblings for a bit of a ride on that one. (Had to give it to her, that one _had_ been a pretty good, and pretty harmless, prank to pull.) Stan didn't know how to react to the knowledge that this girl, who was apparently a Bill Cipher from an alternative universe, was still a shitty liar, though. Or, at least, that she couldn't make outright lies that would even come close to fooling him. The only people she'd be able to fool would be the idiots here in Gravity Falls, and maybe the kids again, but only if she caught them in the middle of being excited or something when they wouldn’t be really thinking things through. (Not that that couldn’t be dangerous enough, though, Stan was sure his brother would be happy to tell him, as soon as he was completely feeling better.)

"Is there anything I can do that might… help?" Miz asked. Bill immediately turned his head towards her and demanded, "--Don't say yes to _anything_ unless I say it’s fine!" Miz nodded. "Good." Bill turned back towards Stan and gave him a long look. ...Yeah, the kid definitely didn’t trust him with his little sister. Heh. Was almost kinda cute, except for how big a honking problem it _actually_ was. Stan was still gonna try to get as much mileage out of it with the kid as he could, though.

"Help how?" Stan asked her, and Miz blinked at him. "--Oh right! Um, I was gonna ask if it would be okay for me to clear out the termites and the rats. And fix up any damaged wood in the shack, so that its cleaner and sturdier." Miz said, looking up at Stan with a hopeful look.

"Eh." The old man scratched at the side of his face and considered it. It sounded like she wanted to apologize by doing a favor for him. And her suggestion was to fix up the Shack. "Would it interfere with the voodoo barrier?"

"No. I won't be changing anything. Just making what's already here, better." Miz assured him. "Cleaning out insects, mice, dust, dirt and feces… I won’t even kill the animals if you want, I can just push them out into the forest or something." She turned a pleading look at Stan. "I just want to do _something_ to help out around here! I… don’t want to be a burden while I’m staying here!"

Stan sighed. This junk again. Rate he was goin’ he was gonna have to set up one of them halfway houses for Ciphers here, because none of them seemed to get that... "You’re a _kid_ \--"

"But I’m not _your_ kid. I’m just… staying here, for selfish reasons! Please let me do something to help! Just pretend it’s chores but on a larger scale!" Miz begged. She knew for a fact that she would likely eat them out of house and home unless she found another source of fuel that wasn’t their emotions. 

"Kid," Stan held up a hand before she could interrupt again. "I don’t ask Bill to do chores around here. The most he has to go with are penalties-- _and I still haven’t figured_ them out yet," he began to say heavily when she looked about to interrupt him again, then lightened his tone when she backed off a bit again. Stan let out another sigh, and rubbed the front of his face with a palm. "Look, let me level with ya, okay?" he said, dropping his hand and looking between them both. "I ain’t real happy with either of you two right now, I don’t know what I’m gonna do about Ford yet, I _just_ got done negotiating boundaries with the termites for the next year, and I _don’t_ need either of you two screwing up anything else with him, or the kids, or anyone else."

Stan took in a breath glancing between them, and didn’t see any hard objections yet. _\--Good._ "Your big brother here wants to take on any penalties you might get. After what happened yesterday, I can kinda see why." He glared at Bill. " _You_ are not getting outta _any_ penalties on anything," he told the kid. "I’m pretty sure I know why you rushed out the door with your little sister talkin’ precautions now, when Ford started flipping out, ‘cause if I understand this whole thing, if he’d started explaining things when we didn’t know what was what, the kids would’ve started freaking out, and Miz would’ve felt that, and if _she’d_ started freaking out then things would’ve gotten a hell of a lot worse. I got that right?"

"Yes," Bill said tersely.

"And you were worried what it was doing to her, feeling all our junk, anyway," Stan said. "So yeah, you thought it was more important to handle all that than eat. --But that ain’t right, you coulda done both," Stan told him. "You still coulda said something over the phone when you were out there, or called us sooner," Stan told him. "You _don’t_ get to be off the hook for that. I’ve told you about not eating, and what happens when you don’t do that, before," Stan reminded him heavily, before he let out a tired sigh. "But…" and now he had the kid’s attention. "I didn’t check to see if you’d eaten, or if there was any toast in that thing for you," Stan told him. "And I didn’t check up on you for lunch, either, and that’s one of the things I’m supposed to be doing for you." That was two things out of the whole set of four promises: food and learning. Stan had known that the kid didn't believe him about eating being all _that_ important, yet.

"But you’re still going to penalize me twice for that, anyway," Bill said slowly.

"Yeah," said Stan. He pulled in a breath, then made the plunge. "But I’m gonna penalize myself for that, too." Bill stared at him. "You screwed something up twice with the meals, but I screwed up twice with that junk, too. --They _don’t_ cancel each other out," he told Bill. "You didn’t do anything to undo that, or fix that, and neither did I. So we both get two penalties each."

"Who picks yours," Bill said suspiciously, "Me?" Stan let out a snort. "No. I pick yours, and Ford’s gonna get to pick mine, once he's feeling better. And if you think they’re not on-the-level with your penalties or whatever, you can complain to me about it," Stan said. "But that doesn’t cover what’s going on with Ford, after what happened in the woods."

Bill gave him a long look. "...What if I help fix it."

Well, surprise surprise, maybe this would work out after all. Stan had been hoping that he’d managed to set it up right for this, and look at what he got here! "Can’t fix it entirely, but you can help. Means the penalty’s gonna be a lot less penalizing, if you help make it better than it would have been."

Bill gave him a long stare.

"Starting with tellin’ me what exactly you two did, what he did, what the hell happened before we all got out there, and why you weren’t even a little bit surprised or worried about it," Stan ground out at him.

Bill stared at him a bit longer, then looked away.

"Right now, or after you’re finished with your other questions," Bill asked, finally looking back at Stanley.

Stan pulled in a breath, and he had to force himself to let it out slowly. Practically a whole day, and Ford being at least a little better than he was, and Stan still wanted to haul off and hit the kid.

...not least of which because he was afraid of what was gonna happen when Ford saw the kid again next.

"Fine," Stan said finally. "How bad off is your little sister from what we were throwing at her since she’s been here, and from the last time," Stan asked. It got a startled look out of the kid. (...Yeah, didn’t see that one coming, did you? Not an idiot, kid.) For all Stan knew, part of why the kid had been so okay with throwing shit to the wind yesterday had had to do with the fact that, technically, they’d all been ‘mentally attacking’ his kid sister with their emotions every second that she’d been there so far. "Only three senses? For a triangle with an All-Seeing Eye? --She’s locked down hard right now. What happens to her when she takes that headband off? And how bad is it for her when she has it on?" He glanced over at Miz. He wasn’t stupid, and he’d been paying attention to what little she’d said in the kitchen that morning. "This ain’t just a feeding thing, is it. You were still angry with Ford because he was angry, weren’t you. You okay? Or aren’t you?"

"I’m… ok… sort of…" Miz rubbed her arm "It’s just…" Miz sighed and looked down at her hands. "Why’re human emotions so much stronger though? I can hang around angry aliens all day and just get irritated…" she mumbled quietly. It took a lot to really piss her off nowadays unless she had multiple days worth of issues stockpiled up. Or if someone did something really awful to piss her off. "And I feel a little… quiet right now, with the headband on. It’s like… everything is… less vibrant? A little dizzy sometimes when I realize I can’t See and I try to but there’s nothing there…"

She glanced up at Stan. "And I _was_ trying very hard not to be mad at Ford anymore during breakfast… but it was kinda… difficult."

Stan let out a long breath and looked over at the kid. Bill didn’t look like he was about to have a nuclear meltdown, but he didn’t look all that happy about any of it, either.

"You used to be human, right?" Stan asked. "Maybe human emotions just, I dunno, fit better with you. Hit stronger?"

"Maybe? My world’s 3rd dimension is still in its early parts of humanity. Like, Egypt just became a thing. And with them, I’m stuck in the Mindscape most of the time unless I’m possessing something… which, funny story, is where the Egyptians got their misconception that the Pharaoh is a living god, they saw me with my eyes all glowy inside my host and started worshipping him…" Miz couldn’t help but giggle a little. "It was both funny and exasperating."

Yeah, kid was definitely a triangle demon. She sure rambled away like the one he had did. "Kid," Stan said, looking to Bill. "How bad is it that she’s feeling _quiet_ right now?"

"She’s lucky to be feeling anything at all," is what Bill told him almost flatly. "She’s an empath with no ability to keep anyone else’s emotions out of her mind and she’s been spending most of her time around people. Most empaths with that kind of problem would have stopped being capable of feeling things themselves within a year or two of that, given her range and how strongly she seems to be picking things up without even trying."

Stan stared. It suddenly occurred to him why Ford might’ve been horrified in the kitchen, and why he’d looked so grim. Ford had gotten that ‘I need to fix this’ look that he sometimes got, the one that always, _always_ got him into trouble… but Stan had thought that he’d been thinking about Bill, not the dragon-girl. He’d thought Ford had gone downstairs to that lab of his.

Miz mumbled, "Is THAT why Time Baby put me in solitary confinement after I accidentally laser beamed his courtroom?" Bill turned towards her. "You let him put you in the Infinitentiary?" Bill said with no small disbelief. "Well… I felt really bad about accidentally killing so many people! I didn’t mean to do it! And he let me out after a few centuries when he needed help with something anyway…" she mumbled.

Bill and Stan both stared at her.

"Tell me you could have left whenever you wanted to," Bill said, sounding a little odd. Stan glanced over at him. "Yes. They wouldn’t have been able to hold me." Miz confirmed. Bill closed his eyes for a moment. Stan realized that the kid was forcefully controlling his breathing. "...Fine," Bill said tersely, then opened his eyes again.

Stan wasn’t sure what Bill was about to say, but _he_ decided to cut in with, "Kid. Miz. Don’t _ever_ let anybody lock you up, even if you think you can get out later. That ain’t smart. You don’t know if you’ll _stay_ being able to get out again on your own." He didn’t care if she was a freaking demon. Prison was hell, and she was still a kid, even more of one than the kid was.

"But… what if I lost control and hurt more people? I… I just felt really bad…" She trembled, remembering how she’d started hurting herself, slamming into the walls and biting herself until she bled everywhere. Anything to try and relieve that awful guilt burning inside her.

"Go someplace where there aren’t any people to hurt," Bill told her flatly.

"I… felt like I needed to be punished…" Miz admitted quietly. 

Stan frowned. He glanced over at Bill. "...And sitting in a jail cell you could leave, that was near a bunch of other people you could feel but couldn’t keep out of your head or whatever, was being punished?" Stan asked her slowly.

Miz looked away. "In retrospect, if you put it like that, it does sound kinda stupid…" She shook her head. "But I’m out now! And it hasn’t happened in eons."

"What hasn’t happened in eons?" Stan asked her, glancing at Bill again. He had a suspicion...

"Getting Time Baby mad enough he felt the need to lock me up? He’s been almost… nice these past few million years, still an asshole, but he hasn’t asked me to kill anyone for him in a while…"

...and that had _not_ been it. Stan’s eyebrows went up. "--Woah, woah! Asked you to _kill_ someone for him? The hell?" Yeah, ‘nice to her’. _Sure._ Probably happy that he had a Bill Cipher killing people for him whenever he wanted, whoever the hell this asshole was.

Miz blinked. "Yeah. He says that since I’m Destruction anyway, I might as well be used for something. So, sometimes he needs history to happen in the way he wants, he has this whole timeline thing setup you see, and sometimes it doesn’t go the way he wants, so he usually sends his police down there to… make sure things go smoothly. But sometimes he needs a more…" She struggled to find a way to put it. "...powerful creature to get things done? So he cut me a Deal, I do a job for him every now and then in exchange for a Favor from him."

...Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This was _exactly_ the kind of thing Stan had been worried about with the kid. This was _exactly_ why he’d wanted the kid to stay here, and not get caught up with who-knew-who that might come back to bite them all in the ass later. ...Hell, and if Miz could get here, what if that asshole decided he wanted to ‘get things done’ over here, and told her to start killing people over here, too? Only thing stopping _that_ from happening ( _maybe_ ) was the kid, and would Bill lock his ‘little sister’ out of anyplace she really wanted to go? Stan wouldn’t bet his life on that, _or_ the kids.

Stan turned to Bill. "--Can you get her out of this Deal?"

"...I don’t know," Bill said slowly. "First time I’ve heard of it." Bill had thought, when she’d been talking earlier, about the ‘trinity’ of Time-Space-Energy that, that had meant they’d mostly been equal, or at least equal-ish. "Can you break it on your own?" was Bill’s first question to Miz. His second was, "What were the terms of the Deal -- do you have to kill whoever he tells you to?"

"Well… it’s a case by case thing. I only make a Deal for one job at a time." Miz said, not sure why they were staring at her like that. "And each job, deal, I do for him, if I accept the job, he’ll grant me a Favor. I’ve been keeping track of how many he owes me. It’s how I keep my friends safe. I trade a Favor for their freedom and the Federation can’t touch ‘em," she said proudly at this solution she’d found.

Stan glanced over at Bill. Bill didn’t look perturbed in the least… at least on the face of things. "Any restrictions on what the Favor can be?" Bill asked of her next. "Scope or duration? Anything?"

"Something of equal value to what my part of the Deal did for him. I tell him what I want, he haggles me down and we come to an agreement." Miz said. "I can have him make the Federation leave my friends alone so long as they don’t blatantly break the law where an officer can see, or go on a mass murder spree. If they do break the law and get arrested again, I trade another Favor to get them out." She felt this was fine. She told them to keep the law breaking on the low and they had been behaving themselves.

"Have you ever not taken a job," was Stan’s question, because, shit, how deep was this kid already into things, here? ...And what were her ‘friends’ like? (Yeah, okay, better than Bill’s probably, if she _usually_ didn’t have to get them out of the clinker for mass-murders. Not that that was sayin’ much. Shit.)

"Um… so far no? He gave me a thorough explanation of _why_ he needed who he needed killed, and there was that one planet I had to destroy because it was infected with a very deadly parasite and he couldn’t allow it to escape the planet to infect the rest of multiverse…"

Stan took in a deep breath. Let it out again. Turned to Bill and said, "Kid, how would you solve that problem if you didn’t want anybody to die, and still not infect the multiverse." And as far as Stan was able to tell, the kid didn’t even have to think about it. The kid just rattled off: "Roll back time around the planet. Roll back the entire planet and everything and everyone on it. The whole thing."

"Eh, Time Baby doesn’t like it when anyone messes with Time like that. Which I always found kinda stupid… he’s the god of TIME for fuck’s sake…" Miz grumbled.

"So kill him," Bill said, and Stan had to cover a wince. "But then I’d be forced to take on his job and I had no idea how to do that!" Miz whined. "‘Had’?" Stan said, because if this demon was anywhere near as exact with her words as Bill was... "As in, you didn’t before, but you do now?"

"...sort of. I kinda get it now, but even if I took over, none of his police are gonna listen to me and rolling back time for the ENTIRE multiverse far enough to put myself as their original god would fuck up the timeline so bad that reality might actually snap…" Miz groaned. "It’s just… so many strings and connections and consequences and--"

"So don’t let them think he’s dead," Bill said. "Put a mannequin in or something you can remote control. Or talk to that chatty ‘dad’ of yours that seems to like you, see if he’ll vouch for you to the rest of reality."

"Eh… dad says I need to learn to get along with Time Baby," Miz said. "Of course he does," Bill said next, his tone dripping scorn.

"And he never talks to the rest of reality, lazy ass…" Miz grumbled. Bill didn’t look horribly surprised at that. "Also, I tried replacing Time Baby with a Construct once, I was pranking him by spiking his drink with this super strong alcohol for Crimbo and he got knocked the fuck out!" Miz giggled. "But then Time started falling apart so I panicked and held it together until he woke up because of COURSE he set the damn thing to fall if he was taken out, apparently he sets up an autopilot thing whenever he takes a nap but getting knocked out was… a bit of a surprise-- but either way, I had this fake Time Baby up and running for a little while and it was awful! He just sits in his courtroom all day with all that paperwork and people coming in and out to beg for favors and I tried helping them because they seemed to be in a bad place but there were all these long reaching consequences with a couple of countries never having existed because apparently I fucked something up while helping people and…" Miz paused in her tirade and sat back neatly on her pillow with a blush. "So… I don’t think I can replace Time Baby long term," she said meekly.

Stan listened through all this, feeling (as usual) pretty over his head when it was things that had nothing to do with anything _here_ , in ‘this dimension’, or whatever. All he could think to say was… "You think you could figure out how to set up one a’ these autopilot things by, uh, lookin’ at it with your Eye or whatever?" Kid complained about his often enough that he had a good idea now what they maybe could do with it.

"My powers don’t work the same way Time Baby’s does. I’ve been practicing and observing him but I think this is just something about how his existence is tied to Time and Fate while mine are tied to Energy and Death." Miz said.

"Okay…" said Stan. "But I ain’t sayin’, ‘can you do it the same way?’ I’m askin’, do you understand how this autopilot thing works. Or why, or whatever." Stan knew the kid could do stuff with 'magic’ that worked differently but did mostly the same thing as the kid could do using ‘weirdness’, or whatever. He figured that maybe the kid’s kid sister might be the same way about this, with what this asshole baby-guy could do.

Miz scrunched up her eyebrows in thought. "I… can See the threads of Fate. I could probably make my own _version_ of it, but it would be… different. Might not work the same. Time would move differently." She shook her head. "But disregarding all that, if I killed Time Baby, dad’s probably gonna be upset. He might be forced to step in and take over running Time until Time Baby reforms himself." She winced. "And dad would be mad. I think? I’ve never seen him mad before but I think killing Time Baby might make him mad?"

"I ain’t talking about killing nobody," Stan told her. That was well beyond anything he’d feel comfortable telling anybody, especially not a couple of demons who weren’t talking about _whether or not_ they could go out and do it, just _what would happen_ if they did. "I’m just thinking that maybe knowin’ how to keep time from collapsing if somebody _else_ spikes the guy’s drink next time, or kills him, or whatever, might be a thing you might want to have a handle on if you can do it. Sounds like not handling it might ruin your day." Oh boy did it ever.

Miz tilted her head. "I can start working on constructing a Curse that could automate the thing for me? Would probably take a while to program that." She pouted. "I didn’t really think of doing that before. Time is HIS thing, not mine."

"Yeah, well," Stan rubbed the back of his neck. "I wouldn’t really be thinkin’ about how to hold somebody’s hat for ‘em, if they kept tryin’ to get me to kill people for them, and were holding my family or whatever hostage over it, either." Didn’t sound like the kid was in a really good situation over there, wherever she was from. Not at all. And he hated to scare her, but… "You got any idea what would happen if you ever tried to tell the guy ‘no’?" Knowing how much of a hold this baby-guy might have over her was really the first step to figuring out how bad and how deep she was in.

Miz paused. "Um… I…" She looked down, a worried frown on her face. "He wouldn’t be able to do anything to ME, but…" She pulled at her dress (Stan absently noted she must have used magic to change her clothes or something, since this was a different dress from yesterday) and looked uncomfortable. "But he might be… less willing to pardon my friends when they do stuff… I mean, they’re usually on good behavior! Xanthar and 8-Ball and Keyhole are the sweetest guys! They wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose! But… Pyronica likes to eat people… and shoplift…" She mumbled quietly, "...and the Federation KNOWS her, they have her profile in their systems…"

Stan sighed. Kids. God, he hated it when the mob or whoever got them early. She thought killing people to get somebody else off for shoplifting was okay? (He could see why Bill thought he'd take advantage of her. Shit.) ...Well at least this one really seemed like she didn’t want to run around killing people, if she didn't think she had to. He didn’t think she was lying about that. Only reason he was trying to figure a way out of this for her. (Stan figured it would cause less trouble for him, because if she wasn't killing people, then Bill wouldn't be tempted to 'help her out’ with the killing. Last thing any of them needed right now.) "Okay. Look. Are there any places this Federation isn’t? And who makes these laws? Does the baby-guy have any pull on that?" He probably did, damn it. Stan hated explaining the facts of life to teenagers, he really did.

...Bill was watching him. _Something_ was up, with the kid not jumping in and getting all chatty with him like he usually did on everything else.

"The Federation is a multiversally spanning governmental system whose business model is sending down powerful ships onto a newly discovered planet, asking the inhabitants if they’d like to join them and then force the inhabitants to join them if they refuse. But as bad as that might sound, it’s been slowly getting better. I’ve been working sneakily behind the scenes to try and get some people who aren’t shitty to join the council. It’s slow going." Miz tried to explain.

Uh huh. Yeah. ‘Course she was makin’ excuses for them. And starting to get in way too deep, if she knew enough to be trying to change the system from the inside. (That usually didn’t go well. That usually just got your own guys killed, or turned. And then where were you? --Running with your name on a kill list for bein’ dumb enough to think you could change anything inside the system, that’s what.)

"Kid," Stan said, "Let me be straight with you, here. Okay?" Miz looked up at him curiously. "Okay. Look. Guy tells you you’re good for nothing but killing? You don’t believe ‘em, you get the hell out of there and _run_. That’s bullshit. Understand?" Stan grimaced. "And if this guy’s an asshole, probably the minute he decided he wanted you to be working for him, was already too late for some things. He knows your people, and he knows how to hurt you through them. That’s bad. Means he has leverage. Now," Stan shifted in place. God, his back was not gonna love him tonight. Miz noted Stan's discomfort as he pressed a hand to his back. "It sounds like the guy’s not everywhere. And I’m betting he can’t get here, so you have an escape hatch. But the only way you can really deal with the bad ones, is to run and stay the hell under the radar until they die -- ‘cause they sure as hell won’t forget _you_ \-- and it sounds like this one dyin’ is only gonna cause you problems, which is a mess and a half. So don’t go runnin’ _to_ him the next time he calls, just don’t even answer. Just stay away from him, get you and your friends someplace where this Federation isn’t, and… I dunno, just stay out of it. Because if he’s an asshole, he’ll want you back, and ‘laws’ can be changed. And that’s if you can trust the cops not to decide there’s a new law just for you and your friends, because this big-shot baby says so, and they owe _him_ a favor or two. Understand?"

Miz nodded slowly. "Well… a lot of the council members are getting on in years. There are four good people I’m trying to get into a seat of power right now. As for escaping the Federation… we could go to somewhere that they haven’t gone to. But that’s mainly fringe planets and the few planets I’ve managed to keep them from getting to. But… I don’t want to restrict my friends from going out to where they want to go… even if I’m just trying to keep them safe. And… Kryptos is still in school, and Teeth has his job… and…" Miz seemed to wilt as she thought about it.

"Kid, if these people are okay with you goin’ out and killing people when you don’t want to, just so they can go places and pull stupid shit whenever they want, then they ain’t really your friends," Stan told her heavily.

Miz looked a little angry. "They ARE my friends! And… and they didn’t actually know about my Deals with Time Baby until like… a few hundred years ago…" She started out angry and then just looked sad. "I… never told them, explained it to them properly, until recently because I was afraid they’d think I was an awful person for agreeing to work with Time Baby…"

Stan took in a deep breath and let it out again. And this is why he hated the mob: they never really let you go, and just when you think you got out, just about everybody else would toss you back in. ...But sometimes, if you were lucky, 'just about everybody' wasn't **everybody** , and with _this_ demon-kid... "Okay. I’m guessin’ they had somethin’ to say about it, if they’re still your friends now."

Miz nodded. "They said I shouldn’t have to do that for them…"

"Okay." Stan felt a little relieved. "After you told them, did they stop going places as much on their own?"

"...They’ve been on really good behavior these past several hundred years. We had one rampage, but that one was my idea. The Federation was bombing a rebelling city so I went to get the survivors to safety while my friends fought off the Federation soldiers…"

"So they give a damn about you, and they’re willing to help you with shit. That’s good," Stan said, glancing over at Bill again, who’d been unnaturally quiet this whole time. "So maybe give ‘em a heads-up that you don’t want to take that big baby’s deals anymore, see what they say. Talk it out with them. Backup plans, what you’ll do if you think you need to go… uh, handle one of those evacuation-rampage things again, or if one of your friends wants to do something that’ll break one of those ‘laws’. How you’re all gonna handle that, without you havin’ to go begging back to him for another favor or two." Because _that_ would go _really_ bad, once she tried to get out, and stopped taking their calls. They'd just nail her to the wall for good. She'd never get out and away from them again.

Miz nodded but still looked worried. "I feel bad that they’d have to do all this because of me…"

"Yeah, well, don’t," Stan told her. "Sounds like these guys are actually your friends, since they’re doin’ it for you ‘cause they want to. Right?"

"I’m already feeling guilty for trapping them with me…" She sighed. "I didn’t want to restrict their freedom…"

Stan looked at her, confused. "You ain’t trapping them, that stupid baby guy is. And you can always take 'em and leave that set of yours and go someplace else if you have to, right? Escape hatch?"

Miz shook her head, looking strained. "But I DID trap them with me. I made them immortal so they wouldn’t age and die and leave me alone!" She looked away.

Stan blinked at her. "Uh… what?" The other stuff, he’d sort of been able to get. Just replace ‘mob boss’ with ‘asshole baby guy’ and ‘her dad’ with ‘the other mob boss or whatever that you can’t cross’, and ‘Federation’ with ‘those countries we own, ‘cause we’re the mob families who own the place’, and ‘planets’ with ‘towns’, and ‘friends’ with ‘family’, and it all pretty much fell out the same way. Whatever. But he hadn’t really been able to wrap his head around the idea of Bill being a trillion years old yet, and it was just a number because the triangle acted like a kid anyway. Stan couldn’t imagine living forever.

"When… when I found them… and they actually wanted to be my friends… I was so happy! But, mortals aged and died. I didn’t want to lose them! Not when they actually like me! So… I kinda… well, actually it was Pyronica who originally suggested it, but I was the one who added that hidden term to our Deal-- ah, that is… I made a Deal with them to continue being my friends until the end of time and ah… I kinda forcibly made them immortal. They can still be killed, but they don’t age anymore…" Miz looked guilty. "So, they’re trapped… with me… because who else would they live with once they outlive their families?" She waved her hands. "And I KNOW that was very bad of me to do but I was so lonely and I didn’t want to lose them and--"

Stan stared at her. There was nothing about this he understood. ...Okay, the emotions a little, maybe, but...

"-- _Are_ they trapped with you, though?" Bill said oh-so-lightly, as he finally cut in. Stan turned to look at him. The kid was looking at his fingernails.

"I felt bad about making them immortal without them knowing, so I told them they were free to leave and do or go wherever they wanted… but it’s not like they have anywhere else to live except with me… and I feel bad about that."

"Do they still have Free Will?" Bill asked her, looking her directly in the eyes.

"Yes. I have never messed with Free Will. For a while I was worried that my Deal might have done something to them, to make them like me, but I got Jessie to check them out and they came up clean. So I haven’t touched their free will!" Miz said vehemently.

"Good!" said Bill, with a smile. "Then they aren’t trapped. You said it yourself."

"But… they wouldn’t be able to do things like settle down and start a family. I mean, Pyronica had kids but they’re older than she is now, well, older looking at least-- you know what I mean-- and… and they’re gonna die someday. And…"

Bill let out a laugh. "Kid, you’re missing the point." He spread his hands out to the sides. "You said it yourself. _They can die._ \--If they really wanted out for good, they could just kill themselves," he told her, which had Stan swallowing hard and damn near biting his tongue. "Unless you’d stop them from exerting their free will, and they know it?"

Miz blinked. "...oh. Uh… I hadn’t thought of that… ah… if they really wanted to kill themselves, I… I wouldn’t stop them…" even if it would break her heart to see them go.

Bill nodded. " _And_ ," he continued. "You know how to jump dimensions and pick the time you want to come out at, correct?" She’d indicated so before, last time, to him, when they’d been talking to Seb. "So if they outlive their own race, it doesn’t matter. They can go back and visit, find someone, and bring them forward. Or, you can create a new race for them, can’t you?" Bill told her. "Or visit a different dimensional set with them entirely. You, and they, have options. No-one is trapped."

Miz nodded slowly. "The time travel thing would only work a few times before Time Baby notices, but I might be able to do the new race thing. I’ve been messing around with a planet I created and while the 1st generation of life I create are soulless, their children have souls…" That got another long stare from Stan. (Could the kid do that, too?)

"Right!" Bill said, giving her another smile, that was closer to a grin. "And you can always offer the same sort of immortality to others, who might say yes or might say no, if your friends ask you to, if there is anyone they might want to keep around who would want to live that long, too."

Miz nodded. Slowly a smile appeared on her face. "You’re right!" She bounced in place. "So… I’m not a bad friend for making them immortal without telling them? Not, entirely a bad friend at least?"

"Mm," said Bill. "Not like most people understand what immortality means until they’re a couple million years into it. You left ‘em an out already. Is there any other way to break the Deal?" Bill asked her.

"Well, I used the words ‘until the end of time’ as part of it, so I guess if Time Baby dies they’d be freed from the Deal too. They wouldn’t die immediately, but they’d be mortal again and start aging normally until Time Baby reforms himself."

"How long does it usually take your Time Baby to reform?" Bill asked her. "Takes a thousand years here."

"Like, a thousand years as well. Same for ME if anyone manages to destroy me bad enough."

Bill nodded. "So, how long do each of their species usually live?"

"Ah… let’s see… 300 for Ronica? Xanthar’s like… 500 maybe? Teeth’s people only have 98-ish…" Miz mumbled as she thought about it.

"Well, that’s a problem if you’re stuck having to hold time together while he ain’t there, if you don’t got yourself an autopilot to handle things for you," Stan pointed out. He wasn’t dumb, he could do the math. "If you’re stuck holding time together so everybody doesn’t kick it because time unraveled or whatever, and your dad don’t take over… they still die. That ain’t good." He glanced over at Bill, who glanced back at him and gave him a smile. The kid had an odd gleam in his eyes, too, for some reason, which was weird.

"Pfth… I actually boosted their bodies on the genetic level to stop their aging. So, I think their natural lifespans are actually much higher than their species are supposed to have. Not sure how much but I know that for Kryptos at least, he would be able to survive 1000 years, be pretty old but he’d make it."

"Yeah, okay," Stan said, rubbing a hand over his face again. "So, maybe a good idea to, I dunno, either boost it longer or get some cryotubes or something like Ford’s got in the bunker," (what did you want from him, Stan was spitballing here), "And really nail down that autopilot thing, even if it will take a long time. Just in case whoever takes out that asshole baby decides they want to go after you or your friends next, so you can be ready there, waiting for 'em, or just grab ‘em all and bail."

Miz hummed. "You know, I was wondering about that… Bill killed Time Baby here right? I’m guessing this dimension doesn’t have its little pillars of reality directly tied into the gods that run them?"

"No," Bill told her. "Not at all. --Here, there’s only one stupid giant Time Lord left, and it’s in this dimension, and it’s ‘Time Baby’," Bill told her, then tilted his head at her. "If you’re looking for models of dimensional sets that are set up without needing any ‘pillars’ in place, this _would_ be a good one to look at, before I start changing all the underpinnings of everything everywhere and it gets a little difficult to tell what it used to be like ‘ _before_ ’!" he laughed out. It'd still be stable when he was done, of course, but getting from here to there was a step-by-step thing, and not just the steps but the order of them mattered. Changing things around in a different order _could_ lead to a large-scale destabilization from a less-stable (or almost unstable) configuration that wasn't corrected in time, Bill knew.

(Stan glanced over at Bill. Oh, he was _definitely_ talking about this with the kid later. First time he'd heard anything about this 'messing around with underpinnings’ stuff, and _that_ didn’t sound good...)

"I wonder if I could scan what makes this place hold up without pillars and use that to write my Autopilot in my world…" Miz wondered, quite curious at what sorts of systems were in place to automate things in this world. "If your Eye doesn’t change what you See, then go for it!" Bill enthused with a grin. He’d made sure observation using his own Eye didn’t, at least as far as he knew. He’d tested it as much as he could; he was very sure about that now. The thing he was less sure about was whether his own observations could be noticed; he couldn't exactly try and use his old Eye to try and See his own Eye. He also didn't know enough about other dimensional sets and how differently they might work from his to assume anything about that one. The fact that there were ‘pillars’ in Miz’s was a big hint that the Rules In Play might be _vastly_ different in other sets. They might have learned to See very differently than he had, or his Eye might flat-out work differently there; he just didn't know.

"I would need to take this off--" Miz poked her headband "--if I wanted to take a look."

"Could go out to the lake, take the Stan O’ War out with the kid, more than thirty feet out from the shore and the boats," Stan put out there, offering. He'd taken the kid out there before. "Don’t think trying that inside here will do ya any good," Stan raised a hand and gestured at the room.

"Mm, starting small might be a good comparison," Bill put out there. "But the lake first, then here, then the lake again, for a good contrast?"

Miz nodded before looking down at herself and shivering as her tail retracted. "Oh, ok. How do I look? Human enough?" She laughed. "I’m joking, I know this looks human, it’s what I looked like back when **I** was human!"

The joke got her a ‘heh’ from Stan, but the last thing she said got a thoughtful look from him. She wasn’t even 5 feet tall. How… old _had_ she been when she’d ‘died’ and been ‘reborn’ or recycled or whatever into being a ‘triangle demon’ like the kid? He suddenly had a sinking feeling about her childish behavior. (...in a lot of the same way he had a sinking feeling about the kid when it came to that, too…)

"Well," Stan scratched the side of his cheek. "Dunno if the kid said this or not, but if you’re in trouble, come here." Stan grimaced. He didn’t like saying it, but… it’d be better than the alternative. And hey, at least he could keep an eye on the both of them, if they were here. "I’ll have to work somethin’ out with Ford, once he’s feelin’ better. I don’t like you talkin’ with him, but…" He glanced over at the kid. "We can figure somethin’ out. Keep you away from each other, if we have to."

Stan wasn’t offering out of the goodness of his heart, here. He knew full well now what would happen with the kid if Miz ran into problems. --The kid would either try to leave to go to where she was (and who knew what would happen then), or (if Stan said ‘no’ to him about helping) the kid would drop everything and host her here himself, the rest of them be damned.

Stan didn't really want her here -- not after everything she'd done already -- but he knew that all he could really do at this point was keep on doing damage control. --She was a kid, yeah, but she'd hurt Ford. _Twice._ And she’d probably hurt him again. So Stan sure as hell wasn’t feeling too charitable on that front about her or the kid right now. He wasn’t some bleeding-heart hippie; he didn’t go adopting every stray kid he saw out on the street. He was just trying to balance bad and worse, and maybe keep his family intact through the worst of it.

Ford didn’t talk about the multiverse or whatever much, and the kid hadn’t seemed surprised at any of the shit that the dragon-girl who’d used to be human had been talking about. That meant that the triangle demon had seen all this before, or a hell of a lot out there that was like it. Small wonder Ford didn’t want to talk about any of that shit, if it was all like this.

Not that Stan had needed to know all the details or anything, to figure shit out -- he’d gotten a pretty good idea of things during their Weirdmageddon. All those ‘demon friends’ of the kid’s… that was a problem. And Ford was right -- there was nothing stopping them from coming here now, or anybody else. Not after they’d killed Bill Cipher.

What Ford didn’t seem to think about was the fact that _they’d_ killed _Bill Cipher_. And Ford seemed to think for some reason that somehow, everybody out there in the rest of those other universes would know that. --Fine. He wasn’t gonna argue his brother on that one. What he _was_ gonna do was think about the fact that there was always somebody tryin’ to make a name for themselves, and if people were people -- and assholes were assholes -- then _somebody_ out there, sooner or later, would think that killing the people who’d killed Bill Cipher, the biggest of big-bads around, would net them a _hell_ of a lot of street cred.

And chances were that it’d be one of those unkillable-demons that Ford wasn’t nearly so worried about coming here as maybe he should be. --Ford thought they’d come for Cipher? Hell, Stan was surprised they hadn’t come for _them_ yet. (...He’d thought maybe it’d be Bill’s ‘friends’ to worry about at first, but after talking with the kid, and what ‘friends’ were in demon-speak… yeah, no, revenge for Bill dying wasn’t on any of their menus, Stan would bet more than just money on that. Technically, he’d been betting on that right from the start, already, in getting the kid not to call ‘em or get in contact with them in any way. If the kid found out otherwise later, he’d lose the kid to them right away, he’d have no doubt. But when the kid had talked about them, it hadn’t sounded anything like Miz and her friends at all; it was night and day. ...One less thing for him to worry about, at least.)

"Dunno if you noticed, kid, but… you seem to be actin’ a lot more human to me this morning," Stan pointed out to Miz. He figured he really ought to bring it up now. If the kid had been acting like this before… okay, well, all the dimension-talk probably would’ve set Ford off, and the killing-stuff too... but not in anything like the same way as before.

Miz blinked. "Huh…" She tapped the headband. "I don’t think I’m acting any differently. But I guess I wouldn’t be able to tell?" She turned to Bill. "Am I acting any different? From yesterday?"

Bill blinked at her. "I don’t think we’ve been talking about any of the things you _like_ to do, or find funny or hilarious," Bill told her. Those were the things that seemed to consistently set Shooting Star or Pine Tree off by accident, whenever he got a 'stop’ or 'no’, as far as he could tell. "And Stanley had a high tolerance for terrible things." He glanced over at Stan, then said, calmly, "Miz, what was the… _most-upsetting-to-others_ thing that you’ve told Stan this morning?" (Stan looked over at Bill. Was the kid really going to pull a--)

"Uh… he didn’t seem to like the fact that I kill people?" Miz frowned. "I mean, most people are upset by murder."

"Which you noticed because of his reaction after the fact, but still said anyway," Bill said. "That’s fine, we were having an honest conversation; you did well!" he grinned at her, then looked a bit more serious again. "--What was the next most-upsetting-to-others thing that you said?"

"Ummmmm…" Miz had to think for a bit. "My… friends maybe not wanting to be with me, but still being trapped, because I tricked them into being immortal?" Miz bit her lip. "Because free will is important."

"And the next most-upsetting-to-others thing?" Bill prompted her. Miz said almost immediately, "My friends dying. People dying is upsetting." That had come up a few times.

"And the next one?" Miz thought for a bit longer this time than the last. "...Going to jail when I didn’t need to?" She was kind of straining to think about it. Generally, killing people was the worst thing, right? Stan had seemed very upset by this one, though.

"Why?" said Bill. Miz frowned. "I… I don’t know? Because it’s unnecessary suffering?" she guessed.

"If you didn’t know to start with, then why did you pick it?" Bill asked her lightly, not looking at Stanley. Miz glanced over at Stan, though. "Because Stan looked like it upset him? But… not like… ’don’t talk about it’ upset, just kinda… sad? I’m not sure?"

Bill looked over at Stanley. "Which you noticed after you said something. It wasn’t something you thought of before." Miz nodded slowly. She didn’t see the problem with it personally, she went to jail, she felt like she deserved it.

"...Well, shit," said Stan after listening to all of this, running a hand over his face. He’d hadn’t thought to do that with Miz, but now he was thinking he really should have. --He’d pulled a similar thing on the kid a couple of times before, to what the kid had just done, in trying to explain mental attacks to the kid, and how he just didn’t get it. Most of what Miz had been saying that morning so far had just sounded like the same shit he’d seen and dealt with here, just on a much larger scale; Stan hadn’t realized Miz hadn’t been filtering because she hadn’t known _that_ she should filter it. He’d thought she had just been trusting him the same way that the kid did these days.

"Gotta question for you, kid," Bill asked Miz next. "Since you used to be human and all." He tilted his head at her. "Did you ever talk about killing people with your sisters?"

"Like… usually as a joke. My youngest sister was a Gen Z and they’re all like ‘Death, take me now’ and morbid jokes." Miz shrugged. "She would slump over on the couch and beg for someone to just kill her now so she didn’t have to do homework anymore. Not seriously though, it was a joke."

"Interesting," Bill said, and he did look interested. "Tell me. Do you remember your youngest sister well enough to know how she might respond to certain things? Or at least know whether you would know or not what she would say?"

"Yeah. I used to sometimes have conversations in my head with her… and then I thought I really DID have that conversation with her. She was kinda upset to realize that, that was the reason why I sometimes spoke with her about stuff that she didn’t remember us talking about." Miz said. Stan wanted to ask about the ‘having conversations in her head and thinking they were real’ thing, but kept his mouth shut and just observed.

"Good!" Bill enthused. "Now. _Tell me._ " He leaned in a bit closer, watching her carefully. "If your sister was sitting right next to you now, and you turned to her and told her that you were killing entire planets worth of people for a favor from someone who wanted them dead ‘for reasons’, _what would she say to you?_ "

Miz blinked and then looked sad. "Oh… she might… think it was a joke first. And if she knew it was real… she… would tell me not to do that anymore… she…" Miz looked down at her hands. "She… would say that I shouldn’t do that. Because it’s awful…"

Bill had both elbows on his knees, his hands steepled in front of him, and his chin resting on them, and his eyes were alight in a way that Stanley had never seen before.

" _INTERESTING,_ " said Bill. And then he _moved his eyes_ , rather than turning his head, towards Stan.

Stan pulled in a slow breath. He felt like he was skating on thin ice here, almost. Knife at your back, about to get shot… _Bill was watching him closely._

Stan still swallowed, took the plunge anyway, and said, "Miz. Kid. Maybe you should think about what your sister would say to you, if she was in the same room with you and you said something to her, first, before you maybe say it out loud to anyone else. Y’know, just in case she might tell you that that thing might be a bad idea to share around my brother, or somebody." Miz nodded slowly, looking like she had never considered that before. Stan almost wanted to punch a wall.

Bill’s smile slowly grew.

Bill flicked his eyes back over to his little sister. "It might be sad to think about her, since she’s still dead right now, but in the meantime, you can remember her too. So it’s almost like she’s here with you. Right?"

Miz nodded, tearing up slightly. "I… I miss her so much…" she admitted. "I was the older sister.. I watched her grow up… we shared a room and… and I was always in charge while our parents were away..."

Shit. Stan shifted in place uncomfortably. The hell was he supposed to do here?

Bill watched her for awhile.

And then Bill said, after a bit of thought and some searching through his Seen memories, "Is this one of those times when hugs are supposed to be offered to humans?" Stan blinked at him. The kid was offering to have her come over and _grab_ him up in a hug? After the last time?

Miz sniffled. "Yes."

"Hm," said Bill, dropping his hands to his lap. "I think I will offer then!" Miz looked up at him and wobbled over to wrap her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest as she let out a few quiet cries.

Bill grimaced a bit right when she first grabbed him, unable not to, but he was able to wipe the expression off of his face after some clear effort on his part. It took him a bit longer to raise his arms up and lower them again, one at her back and one on top of her head. Miz was still crying softly into his shirt.

Stan stared and not quite squirmed in place, feeling highly uncomfortable. He was no good with girls crying. What was he supposed to do about a human-demon-triangle- _dragon_ -girl one? "Uh…" he said.

"Stanford likely thinks that he’s in a different place at the moment, doesn’t he?" Bill said lowly, and it took a minute for Stan to realize that Bill was talking to him, even after he looked over at Stan. "It’s likely switching around quite a bit, as he tries to get his bearings. To find something that will fit."

Stan felt a cold chill go down his spine. He also felt a hot anger rise up in his chest.

"I’ve seen it before," Bill confirmed. "He does this when something he _really_ doesn’t like happens. He decides it’s not real; it can’t be. ...And I used to accommodate that, for him, because I thought we were friends," Bill said almost graciously. ...Scratch that, Stan was hot all over and _really_ wanted to punch him.

"How do I fix it," Stan said quietly. He had to. Any louder and he’d end up shouting at the kid instead.

"You don’t." said Bill. "He’s just going to have to handle it this time." He looked straight into Stanley’s eyes. "Unless you want me and Miz to leave, and never come back, and you all just… pretend this all never happened, and we were never here. That he’s misremembering somehow. That he’s missing time for some other reason, and none of you know what he’s talking about, if he ever brings any of it up -- which he won’t," the dream demon told him. "--That ain’t happening," Stanley responded angrily. He wasn't about to hand the damn demon an excuse to up and bail on him now! (To run off, doing who the hell knew what. And when the triangle demon came back here, because Stan knew he would sooner or later--)

"Well, then, Stanley, I don’t know _what_ will happen next," Bill told him, as he patted Miz softly on the head. "He’s never broken this way when he’s been awake before, and while he always bounces back, the few times he’d realized that the thing he tried to believe _wasn’t_ real _did_ actually happen… he was _very_ unpredictable afterwards."

Miz sniffled as she looked up "Was… this my fault?" She asked in a small voice. 

"No," Bill told her. "It would have happened eventually. The barriers between sets are coming down. There’s more than one Bill Cipher, and eventually another one will come here." And they probably wouldn’t be as docile as Miz was. This wasn’t said aloud but Stan heard it clearly. ...And now he knew exactly what had set his brother off.

"Why didn’t you tell him there was more than one of you before," Stan ground out.

Bill looked up at Stanley, who was fuming. "I did," said Bill. "Or I tried. I just about gifted him all the underpinnings of the concept. He didn't take any of it well. He knows that demons kill anyone else who happens to have their name because of summoning problems. He knows that new dimensions are created all the time. He knows that multiples of most people exist in other dimensions. He was the one who never connected the ideas together," Bill told him. "He didn’t want to."

"You _should have told him_ ," Stan repeated directly.

" _I didn’t know_ ," Bill told him. "Not for sure. Not until Miz and Seb came here; not for certain. Why would I have told him when I didn’t even know?" Bill said. Miz commented absently, "There were a LOT of Doors…"

"And as far as I knew until you came here the first time, none of them had ever come here yet," Bill told her, patting her on the head again and smiling down at her. Miz nodded slowly. "That other Bill I saw couldn’t open the doors. And Seb only managed to open one while he was with me… I don’t know if that means anything or not? Haven’t really tested it…"

"WELL," said Bill, with a growing grin. "That’s what _experimentation_ is for! --Just remember to bring your _supplies_ and broken-Bill _repellant!_ " he said, patting her on the head again, then not quite flicking the end of her nose (it came closer to tapping it lightly) and pulling his hand back to splay it across his chest. Miz managed a shaky giggle.

"Kid…" Stan said warningly.

"Go downstairs and talk to your brother, and decide what to do," Bill said, not looking up at him. "Just be aware that he’s far more likely to start shooting now than he ever was before." Stan struggled to keep his temper down. He shoved himself to his feet slowly.

"That ain’t helpful, kid," he told Bill.

"Isn’t it?" said Bill, turning an almost-innocent look on him that would probably fool someone somewhere, Stan figured, except that it was coming from a murderous triangle demon that didn’t care one bit about any of them. Stan glared at him. "...No?" Bill got a larger grin all of a sudden. "Well, then. I’ll just promise you this -- when he sees me downstairs and attacks me next, I won’t kill him."

Stan’s eyes narrowed. "‘ _When_ ’ don’t sound like a ‘I don’t know what he’s gonna do’, kid."

"I think in the long-term, Stanley; you know that," Bill said, dropping the grin. The kid was giving him that long stare again. "He’s going to attack me, and I won’t kill him. You shouldn’t try to stop him, and I won’t hold it against you," Bill told him. "Call it a... ‘freebie’."

Stan glared at him for a moment, then turned and stomped his way back downstairs.

Bill flicked the area settings back to one-way audio-in-only again.

"We’re not gonna hurt them are we?" Miz asked quietly. "I’d feel bad."

"Humans have a _VERY_ low tolerance for hurt," Bill told her. "But yes, we will try to keep it to a minimum." He looked down at her. "I’d prefer it if you not interfere," he said to her. "And if I tell you to leave the room, I want you to come back up here straightway, straight up those stairs," he told her, gesturing at them. "Can you do those two things for me? No matter what happens?"

Miz nodded. "Ok big brother." Bill eyes were alight. "Good." He smiled down at her. "That will be _very_ helpful!"

He patted Miz on the head again.

\---

Stan sighed heavily as he made his way back downstairs. Well… shit.

He scrubbed both hands over his face. The kid was pushing it. This was the second time in two days that he’d talked about leaving the dimension… or maybe leaving the entire freaking _set_. Damn.

Ford was down in the kitchen, helping the kids make lunch.

"Ah, Stanley," Ford brushed off his hands on his apron, which had been hastily thrown on at Mabel’s request. "Good. I think we might need help with this salad." He frowned down at it. "I am not entirely sure of the composition of it. Are most salads these days meant to have fruit _and_ vegetables in them?"

Stan sighed heavily at the happy smile his brother was giving him. So long as no one talked about Bill, Ford would… be okay. Sort of.

...Like _that_ was supposed to be helpful. Yeah, sure. He’d figured _that_ one out from how antsy and downright defensively _angry_ (...and _paranoid_ , and confused...) his brother had gotten at the first mention of the triangle, right at the start, after they'd gotten him back to the Shack. The kids had picked up on it almost as fast as he had.

"What do you need help with?" Stan said, walking on over. "Picking out fruits?"

"Ah, yes." His brother readjusted his glasses almost nervously. "Actually, perhaps you had better take over--" Ford began, starting to back away from the counter, and Stan already knew where that one was going, and put a hand down in the middle of his shoulders and pushed him back into position.

"Nope," Stan said. "Lunchtime. You’re helping with the food. No running off in the middle of things." Ford’s smile quickly became strained. "I won’t be long. I just need a minute-- really, just a _moment_ \--"

"Nope." Stan wasn’t going to let Ford out of his sight. Especially with the not-quite threat Bill had made. "Kids? You maybe looked up whatever so Ford can figure out what he needs to figure out on this salad, yet?" he asked them.

"Almooooost… --Found it!" Mabel called out triumphantly, lifting her phone and waving it around. Melody had found the recipe and since she wasn't there right then, they had to look it up themselves.

"Pineapple-watermelon salad?" Stan read out, once he’d managed to gently capture her wrist and stabilize the phone enough to read what was on the screen. He just as gently let go. "Where are we getting the pineapples from?" He was pretty sure they’d used them all up last night.

"TADA!" Mabel said. "BAM!" And she reached out of nowhere and slammed a full pineapple down onto the countertop next to Ford, leaving both of the elder Pines blinking. ...Make that out of a grocery bag down on the floor next to her, Stan realized, when he leaned back and peered down at the floor, as his brother also did.

"Soos and Melody are out picking up more stuff at the store." Dipper said. "Melody said we needed more fruits than just watermelons since M- er… someone’s allergic to melons."

"Who’s allergic to melons? Mabel?" Ford asked, turning to peer down at Dipper. "None of us," Stan said. "Don’t worry about it."

"But--" Ford began.

"We’re making the same one as last night, right?" Stan asked the kids. "Yeah. Pineapples, lettuce, honey, watermelons…" Mabel looked over at the large green fruits.

"...Except without melons this time," Ford said slowly, remembering perfectly well what they’d all eaten last night. "Because _someone_ can’t eat them." Someone who wasn’t them.

"Yeah." Mabel said slowly. "That’s why we’re getting more fruits, different fruits."

" _Who_ else, precisely, are we feeding this salad to?" Ford asked, twisting away from Stan’s hand on his shoulder slightly and taking a step back, while looking at Stanley with an odd, undirected sort of suspicion.

"The goat, if you get the amounts wrong," Stan told him flatly, and Ford blinked, then frowned.

"Stanley, we are not feeding _the goat_ fresh fruits and vegetables," Ford told his brother in descending tones. "That would be a waste of--"

"--Better not get it wrong, then!" Stan told him brightly, clapping him on the back, then moving around him towards the fridge. Ford frowned after him. "Stan--" he began, then stopped when he realized that all he was talking to was Stan’s back, and it was clear from his posture that he was going to refuse to answer him. Ford let out a frustrated sigh, and readjusted his glasses again. "This isn’t going to any of the gnomes, at least, is it?" he asked of the niblings. (He'd never been entirely sure if they'd always gone after jam for the fruit content, the sugar, or both, and he'd never quite gotten a chance to test it. He generally forgot to grab fresh produce, on the once in a blue moon that he remembered to venture out to the store, and then forgot that he had it to begin with, until the mold colonies started taking over the fridge again.) He felt at least somewhat relieved at the shaking of heads he got back from them both that they were not trying to either appease, or potentially try and shift the diet of, that particular colony of small cryptids in the woods.

He flicked his eyes over to Stanley, and then back down to the fruit bowl. There was no point in trying to signal to Dipper again; each time he’d attempted to do so, the boy had seemed oblivious.

Had Dipper never fallen downstairs into his lab? Was the Rift even there? If it was, was it cracking? Or had it all just been one long nightmare wrought by Bill? Ford frowned down at the pineapple, as he pulled out his laser knife, and started chopping away at the exterior. ...It could be the summer _after_ Weirdmageddon possibly, which would far better explain why Stan was so much more friendly with him and his being around the children. ...Except that he hadn’t done anything like this with them before, upstairs, without cryptids involved, so maybe it was only _that_ \-- potentially endangering the children -- that had had Stan so upset with him before.

No-one would even tell him the _date_ , other than that it was the summertime -- which frankly, he'd been able to deduce from the children's presence and from looking out a window -- and not a one of them had left him alone for long enough for him to sneak down to his lab for a moment and try to ascertain on his own exactly how much time had passed. Looking at what he’d made down there, and how much progress on what, would be a perfect metric for him to regain his bearings, but they all seemed just as determined as he was to go down there to _not_ let him actually go down there. ...Well, as much as one could without physically trying to tie him up with rope and chains and lock him in his room to keep him from doing so, that is.

Currently, Mabel was turning out to be the one of them most effective at corralling him, Ford had found, and he had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that she'd also noticed that, too -- and was taking full advantage of that fact. He simply could not bring himself to brush her aside, or say no to her… or, even worse, _ignore_ her.

He tried to tell himself that it was not likely at all that Bill had put her in a prison bubble of her own making, effectively forcing her to jail herself within her own mind… that sort of thing would cause lasting trauma, certainly! Especially in such a kind, gentle, weird loving soul such as hers. ...No, that couldn’t possibly have happened to her, so he had no reason to feel so unreasonably guilty that it _might_... and yet he still found that he could _not_ say no to her.

Surely, it still had to be that first summer. Surely, Stanley and the children were not trying to keep him out of the basement for some _sinister_ reason. _Surely_ , there had to be _some_ rational reason for his family’s behavior towards him. Surely...

Ford’s mind felt like it stuttered for almost a moment, as it occurred to him that Melody, Soos’s fiance, had not been with them that first summer. She’d left the town shortly after… the kids had told him that she’d… And then Ford blinked, because… he’d never actually met her that first summer, had he?

...She could have flown in to visit Soos, though. Except-- Stan wasn’t wearing his Mr. Mystery suit. And that likely meant-- Ah, no, they’d said the Shack was closed again today. Perhaps not.

Ford put his hands on the edge of the counter in front of him and leaned forward, closing his eyes. He felt tired. ...And not quite well. But if he tried to lift a hand to his head again, reassuring himself of the metal plate that was there, at the same time as he tried to relieve at least _something_ of the outer-inner ache on his skull with a bit of pressure, Stan would--

"Ford?" he heard his brother say, and he slowly opened his eyes and looked over. And his brother looked worried. Ah. Apparently he couldn’t even do that without causing...

"I’m fine," Ford told his brother, giving him a smile and taking most of the weight off of his hands, straightening back up. "What did you need?"

He adjusted his glasses, and tried not to think about the Rift that might exist, inside or outside of the container that he may or may not have made, that might or might not be residing down in a dark corner of his hidden basement lab, potentially cracking even further at that very moment.

It wasn't too pressing. The world wasn’t going to end in the next five minutes if he helped his family finish preparing this salad, or another ten if he sat down and ate it with them...

~~And maybe if it did, it was worth it anyway.~~

\--of course it wouldn't. No-one was downstairs, or could get downstairs since he'd changed the code. And there would be other indications that the containment unit was in danger beyond a sudden, abrupt, and catastrophic failure in integrity, so long as he kept the Rift out of the hands of Bill's puppets, and that failure was not externally induced. Because if it did, and if he did...

Ford knew better than all of them the horrors that Bill could unleash. He had to be watchful. He had to be vigilant.

He had to find a way to slip away from them unnoticed, for just a moment, to check. Everything would be fine. He just didn’t want to worry them; that was all. It was just a slight problem with his short-term memory, that was all. He'd had this problem before; he'd handled this before. It was nothing. It was fine. He was fine.

It wasn’t as though he was going to have to resort to jumping tables and chairs, and getting in a shooting war with his own family in order to make a run for the gift shop, and the vending machine, and his elevator. That would be sheer madness! He didn’t need to do that, bringing peril to his family and their lives in some way, in order to learn the truth of the situation at hand…

...did he?

\----

When Stan went to his room to get another shirt, after he got soaked with lemon juice as Mabel had too much fun juicing them, he found an envelope half-slipped under his door. He grimaced a little, looking back and forth down both sides of the hallway, before entering the room and closing the door behind him. They would’ve have to have gotten downstairs somehow to manage this one, but, judging by the open window he saw when he walked in, he figured that this one was a bit of a ‘team effort’ on the demons’ part. That was almost definitely Bill’s way of showing that he’d gone down the outside of the house to deliver the thing, not through the inside of it, and hadn’t slipped it under the door at all. The kid had sort of a feel to how he did things, Stan was coming to find.

Bending down, grunting in effort to do so, Stan gingerly picked up the envelope. He didn’t recognize the handwriting but the words [I’m sorry -Miz] were on it, so he figured it was probably from his newest house guest.

He walked over and closed the window, while debating if he should open this ‘sorry’ gift or not. If it was from Miz… well, he was pretty sure the human-demon didn’t _mean_ any harm. And there was no way she could have gotten it to him without her 'big brother’ knowing about it, so the kid had to think it was an okay ‘gift’ for him, too…

Stan sighed and hefted the envelope, feeling a heavy weight inside. Huh. He grunted and opened it; it wasn’t even sealed. He blinked when a gold necklace thunked out onto his desk. This was… really nice quality too. He pulled out the letter that came with it.

[Hi Stan, I felt bad and wasn’t sure how to make it up to you. Bill said you liked gold. So I made this. I know it’s probably not enough to make up for anything but I couldn’t really think of anything else. You can probably pawn it for some money. -Miz]

He sighed. Figured. The kid _had_ brought up ‘money’ and ‘wealth’ both when he’d been begging. And it wasn’t like he didn’t like paging through an old copy of Gold Chains For Old Men now and again. But… _his_ old necklace had sentimental value, not just a monetary one. And he wasn’t so sure that the ‘pawn it for money’ wasn’t some subtle dig at him, or his old man, or not. ...Hell, the two of ‘em both had a pair of All-Seeing Eyes between ‘em. He’d stopped assuming the kid didn’t know shit about him from day one. Only real question was: did they mean it the way that he thought they did?

Probably he should just ask them about it later. He slid the thing back into the envelope, along with the letter, and shoved it into a desk drawer for now. Last thing he needed was Ford seeing something like that and putting two and two together, if he’d understood the kid right earlier.

He changed his shirt, opened the door and walked back down the hallway, then out to the kitchen to see what was happening.

Melody was on her way to the staircase, bringing some food up to the demons now. She’d mentioned to him earlier that she would ask them about any other potential allergies when she went up there, just in case. Stan still wasn't sure why Miz would be allergic to anything, let alone melons -- didn’t she make that body herself? Why would she do that to herself? -- but what Stan _was_ sure about was that Bill would probably throw a fit if something they fed his ‘sister’ actually ended up hurting her, accidentally or not. So… it was probably a good call.

Stan got back in the kitchen and grunted when Mabel waved at him sheepishly. "Sorry again, Grunkle Stan!" He sat down and grunted again, ever the most eloquent. Mabel slid a bowl of the fruit salad over to him. Fruit-vegetable salad. Apparently the recipe was just fruit but Melody had wanted Soos and the kids to eat more vegetables. Stan sort of approved.

He saw that Ford was already halfway done with his. "You hungry?"

"I'm merely amazed at the way this all comes together. Vegetables and fruit. Fascinating." Ford stabbed another bite, picking up lettuce, pineapple, cucumber and a strawberry slice with his fork. Stan shrugged. "As long as it tastes good." He took a bite. Huh. Sweet and sour with some crisp crunchiness. Not bad.

"Where did Melody go?" Ford asked. "Is she eating upstairs?" He had noticed her leave with a bowl of salad and a plate of incredibly burnt toast. It looked too burned to be enjoyed. It sent a niggling thought through him. Burnt toast was…

...No. No, that couldn't be it. --Ah, perhaps she was bringing food up for Mabel's pig! The toast must had been burnt accidentally and they hadn't wanted to waste it. ~~Though they could have fed _that_ to the goat down here…~~ And Melody was probably giving the pig some fruit salad as well because Mabel doted on that animal. That must be it. ~~Did that really make sense?~~ Ford ate quickly, the salad WAS delicious but it was more of a means to an end. He wiped his mouth and got up from his chair. "Thank you for lunch." Ford walked over to the kitchen counter to drop his bowl in the sink. Then, he strode quickly out of the room. After all, he was finished eating. "Ford!" He heard Stanley call out.

"I'll be right back. Just checking on something."

Ford found himself having to come to a halt, though, when Melody appeared out of nowhere to block the doorway. "Oh, Dr. Pines. You're leaving already?" she asked. And then Mabel whined from her spot on the table: "Don't go! I still want to tell you about the painting I made using ketchup and mustard!"

Dipper stared at Mabel, horrified. "Mabel! You made that thing last night! It's rancid!" Mabel huffed. "It's ART!"

Ford felt a little helpless as he was not-quite herded back to the table, but now he knew for certain: there was something going on. Stan had probably asked the kids to help keep him away from the lab. But why? He was sure Stan didn't mean any harm by it; perhaps he was worried that Ford would lock himself in the basement and ignore him again?

Well, he wasn't ignoring Stan on purpose -- he just got distracted with his work sometimes, is all. Still, Ford couldn’t help the niggling thought… the spark of worry. He didn’t know if the Rift was there or not or whether there never was one in the first place, or whether Bill might still be out there, plotting and planning to hurt his family and--

"Ford. Breathe."

Ford snapped out of his thoughts at Stanley’s words, and at the feel of Stan’s hand on his shoulder. He began trying to breathe a little more deeply like Stanley had told him to, slowly calming himself. As Ford did so, he reminded himself that Stan cared about the kids. If something dangerous was going on, Stan wouldn’t be so calm, right? And… maybe this _was_ the summer after, and the Rift had already been dealt with. Perhaps Bill was gone and they had won… ~~but then again, how likely was _that?!_ Could he even risk not knowing for certain, for long?~~

Still, Ford calmed as Stanley watched him and grounded him, like he had on the boat at times. ~~(Maybe it really was the summer after?)~~ He was a little… miffed about how worried everyone seemed. They were acting as though he was made of spun glass. Soos tried to break the tension by launching into a story about how he’d just bought a new video game: Grand Theft Horse 2. He asked Stan if he could bring it over so the twins could play.

"Depends. Is it appropriate for children?" Stan grunted. Mabel was bouncing in her chair. "There's horses?! Can you ride them? Can you brush them?"

"Ah… isn't that game violent?" Dipper asked. "I heard you can do train robberies in it."

"But it's the wild west dudes! With cowboys and the Oregon trail!" Soos's eyes sparkled. Melody laughed and patted her fiance's arm. "That's great, but I think it might not be suitable for the kids." Soos pouted, looking much like a sad gopher. (Ford would still sometimes double take when he saw the man from the corner of his vision, so sure that Soos was some sort of alien.)

Mabel asked for a game where she could play with horses or cute animals. A game called Zoo Crosswalk was brought up and Mabel, who had finished her salad, demanded that Ford play with her. Soos dug out his old GS2 to let them play the game in the living room.

Ford couldn't turn her down. He sat with her as she directed her game sprite to shake trees to pick fruits and run around talking to all the cute animals. He wasn't sure why he had to be here when it was clearly a single player game but Mabel would pass the controller to him and claim she needed help with fishing because, "You've got awesome reflexes right?"

Ford played the game with her and wondered when he would be able to make his escape from all this attention, and make a break for the vending machine.

\---

"Is it really ok to sneak out like this?" Miz asked as Bill climbed down the side of the house. Miz was carefully glommed onto him piggyback-style, while using what little power she could use (inside the bubble her bracelets made for her inside the barrier) to make herself much lighter, and therefore be less difficult for Bill to carry. Her brother was a bit tense, not liking being grabbed quite so tightly as was necessary for this, but he hadn’t trusted her to try climbing down herself while her senses were impaired, so being carried had won out. Miz apologized for having to hold on so tightly. "I don’t like being grabbed much either, hugs are different…" She mumbled.

"It’s fine, I can handle it," Bill told her about the grabbing. "And yes, it’s ‘okay’ -- why wouldn’t it be? --I ‘sneak out’ all the time!" Bill told her, as he continued to make his way down the side of the shack more slowly than usual. "Stanley says that's what teenagers do." Miz frowned. "I never did that when I was human… though I did sneak out while I was a triangle."

"Oh? Do tell?" Bill's moved his arm to grab another hand hold and carefully lowered the two of them down just another foot.

"Well after I graduated school, the Council assigned me the job of Archiver, which wasn't a bad job all things considered since Triangles were usually only allowed basic labor jobs--"

"So you had to do whatever job your Council gave you?" Bill asked. "You didn’t get to choose?" Miz nodded, resting her head against his shoulder. "Since I was an Unnatural, I was allowed a slightly higher rank than a normal triangle got."

Bill blinked. ‘Unnatural’ as higher ranked? In his dimension, ‘irregulars’ were killed just for existing -- almost the opposite. "What do you mean? ‘Unnatural’? ...Not ‘irregular’?" He needed more than just a definition, here; he needed background.

"Well, I don't know how it worked in your Flatland, but in my world, some Shapes were born Unnatural. It referred to the shape of our genitalia. Since the shape of our mating parts determined the shape of our children." Miz closed her eyes and shivered at the memory of her check up. "It’s different from being Irregular, in which your outside shape is different. Irregulars are kinda looked down on for being ‘ugly’ but if their mating parts are normal then they’re allowed to get jobs and get mates."

Hm. "You mentioned that on your blog. But how did that fit into the stupid-hierarchy-rules?"

"Well, it was how a Shape could elevate their status. A triangle could have a square shaped piece and father squares. A square could have a pentagonal piece and so on. In that way, through multiple generations of careful Pairing and breeding, you'd get a many sided shape that could produce Circle children."

Ugh, that sounded almost as bad as how it had worked in his dimension, except for the whole strange ‘pieces’ thing. "But you broke _that_ mold too, HA!" Bill grinned. Miz shrugged. "Yeah. I was a triangle with a round piece AND slot. So… the Council was unsure what rank that made me." she sighed. "If I wasn't still too... small to mate, the Council probably would have sent me off to breed for the rest of my life…" Bill stopped moving for a moment, and his grip on the side of the house tightened, knuckles going white before he forced himself to relax and keep going. "Well. That didn't happen, did it?" he asked lightly. He remembered reading something about her inventing things, so...

"No. I did something that caught the Council's interest. In a good way." Miz leaned closer. "I was actually trying to do something else. I wanted to see if there was anywhere I could run away to. So I could take my brother and leave that awful place. So I built a mode of transportation, based on some stuff I remember from being human… I only meant to use it so I could travel faster, farther, so I could see how big the world was, see if there was anywhere I could go…"

Bill remained quiet as he listened. This sounded like a listening-time thing to him.

"But the Council was interested in the thing I built. They wanted more. I was transferred to the research and development building instead. It paid better. But it wasn't what I wanted. I was still under observation by guards who'd been ordered to keep me away from my family, because the Council said I shouldn't associate with lower class…"

Bill frowned slightly in thought. Miz's past was very different from his own.

"So I tracked down the triangle rebellion. I figured there HAD to be one. And I found them." She didn't sound all that happy about it. "They were all about overthrowing the Circles. But they didn't care about equality or freedom. They just wanted to put themselves in charge, flip the hierarchy as it were."

Miz shuddered. "And they had no problem using me the same as council did. They wanted weapons, they wanted information, they wanted me to birth Circles to infiltrate their ranks…" she sneered. "Of course, I threw THAT plan of theirs out the window. Naw, I somehow sped up their plans by causing mass hysteria and rioting while we broke into the government hall and dragged the Council out in front of the angry crowd."

She was trembling as they made it to the ground and Bill crouched down so that she could more safely and easily slip off of his back. "You know what happened next," she said quietly, as she let go of him to stand on her own two feet. "I'm still not entirely sure what… precisely was going on. But Will died, I a-ate him… and then everything was on fire…" Her voice shook. Bill pet her head again. (The ‘not entirely sure what precisely was going on’ sounded _very_ familiar to him; he knew what _that_ felt like.)

It still hurt to talk about for Miz, but that's precisely why she did it. Talking about it was better than ignoring it. Even if it hurt, it was better to let it out than to bottle it up inside, right?

"It wasn't your fault." Bill told his little sister as he allowed Miz to hug him again. He was slowly getting used to this. She was getting better at it, too. She never held him tightly, never grabbed him. She just pressed herself against him with a faint pressure, sometimes wrapping her arms around him, until she finished getting whatever comfort she needed. (As long as there wasn’t too much pressure, as long as she couldn’t go from holding to grabbing him in a way that he didn’t know he could immediately get out of, Bill was fine with it. When she did the arm-wrapping thing, it was more difficult, but when she only pressed up against him, it wasn’t-very.)

So he held himself still, and waited, until she got what she needed from him again. He heard her take a few deep breaths, before she pulled away with a quiet, "Thanks."

Bill smiled down at her.

Once Miz had calmed herself, Bill stood up and led her away. Stan had said they could take the boat out to the lake. Bill wanted to give Miz a chance to take her Seal off. Not being able to See was horrible! And if she could use that time to See and study how his world held up without a pillar, then that was even better!

The two made it out of the edges of the barrier and Miz sighed in relief as she took off the bracelets. "So, teleport to the lake?" she asked. Bill’s almost-immediate response to this suggestion was, "--Define ‘teleport’." After all, the way he was hooked into his body right now was probably problematic for several things involving energy.

Then Bill tilted his head. "Why don't we fly instead?" They could stay at least thirty feet up, which would be out of the range of any humans on the ground, and Bill really missed floating -- this would be the perfect excuse if Stanley asked him about it later! Miz blinked. "Like...turn into my full dragon form and fly?" That...would be kinda cool. Bill blinked back. That hadn’t been what he was suggesting but now he was _very_ interested in HER idea.

Bill grinned. "Well, _I_ was talking about--" he ran over to the outhouse and pulled a long, thin metal lantern rod out from behind it. "-- _this!_ I can make it fly... but now I want to see your full dragon form. Exactly how ‘dragon’ is your vessel?" he asked, still grinning, and Miz raised an eyebrow. Flying lantern rod? Like a witch’s broom but COOLER?! "I still want to see your lantern rod," she said. Bill laughed. "And I want to see your dragon form!"

"So I’ll show you mine and you’ll show me yours?" Miz cackled. She fingered her headband. "Should I take it off before we go?" she asked. Bill nodded. They were far enough away from the Shack by this point that the only one Miz would get anything from was HIM, and he was… largely non-problematic right now. ‘Self-regulating’ his emotions was something he was perfectly capable of doing, in his opinion, even if he was having trouble properly regulating his energy-self right now; they were two different things. "--Make sure to check that we don’t get spotted by the other humans, or put up a perception filter," he reminded her, in case she was too distracted to remember. Miz nodded and pulled the headband off, shivering as everything came back at once. She stumbled a little and held her head.

Bill hovered there with his hands up to catch her if she fell, but Miz breathed long, careful breaths for a few seconds before straightening up. "Oh, wow. That’s a rush." She massaged her head. Bill smiled at her words but watched her carefully. She sucked in a slow breath and let it out at the same speed. "Ok. I’m good." She looked up at him with a soft smile. "To the lake?" Bill nodded, eyes bright and watching her closely _now_ because he wanted to see what she did! He was _very_ much curious as to what _she_ meant by ‘dragon’. (In his experience, there were multiple dimensions with different versions of what a ‘dragon’ was.) Miz tossed up a Perception Filter around them and shook out her hands, loosening her shoulders before she let her powers get to work.

Miz sighed as she closed her eyes with her head tilted back. A rippling went through her body as brick shaped scales grew along her skin while her form lengthened and grew. Bill stared. The ‘dragon’ form was very odd looking. Its head was triangular with a large single eye set above a pointed snout and a jaw filled with sharp needle-like teeth. Her golden antlers poked through her long mane of black… hair? No, those thin black tendrils were wiggling. Her body was long and serpentine with oddly noodle-like black arms and legs tipped with claws. She shook herself as she looked down at her new form, twisting around to examine it. "Huh… that's… pretty neat…" she mumbled. Miz wasn't all that big for a dragon, around the length of a bus and standing perhaps six feet tall. She flicked her tail and wiggled the tendrils that made up her mane.

"Did you not know what you would look like?" Bill questioned. Miz shrugged. "I didn't have a real idea in mind, just let my powers do what they wanted, which was ‘Take a triangle, and make it a dragon’. I like seeing what cool stuff happens when I do that."

Bill blinked. That… was an _unorthodox_ way to go about things. He always planned out every last detail. He never tried to wing it, not knowing what he might get. (Probably because the last time he’d done anything that might resemble ‘letting his powers do what they wanted’, all he’d really gotten was a really large mess!) He didn’t see his powers as separate from _him_ , with their own ‘wants’ (and, potentially, ‘needs’). ...But then, thinking about some of the things Miz had written to him, it seemed that maybe Miz _did_ feel that way about _hers_.

Hm. ... _INTERESTING._

"Alright," said Bill, as he turned away from her slightly, to lift his lantern-rod and hold a hand over it. It took him a moment or two to construct the proper mandala spell-pattern inside his mind for what he wanted, and to whisper a keyword that enacted the spell and enchanted the rod he was holding with it. "We'll fly over, stay at least thirty feet away from the humans above them." That shouldn’t be too hard; most of the trees were taller than that. "You stay in the air once we’re there. I'll land and get Stanley's boat out. ...Maybe some tackle-bait, too," Bill told Miz, before he let go of the rod for a moment -- now floating mid-air, to sit down onto the main body of it side-saddle. Once seated upon it, he cast his own ‘bubble of invisibility’ perception filter around himself -- making sure to allow Miz to see through it -- and then wrapped a hand around the rod and mentally commanded it, exerting his will upon it, lifting rather quickly up into the air. As he gained altitude, he started to _grin_...

Miz wiggled her hips before leaping up, twirling through the air like a ribbon. She giggled brightly, feeling her senses stretch out and See through every knot on every birch tree they flew past. She felt so _free_.

Being a dragon was so cool!

\----

Melody went upstairs to get the dirty dishes and blinked when she found the bowls next to the stairs with a folded piece of paper. She opened the note and read [Hi, Brother and I are going to play at the lake. We’ll be home for dinner. -Miz]

Melody sighed. She hoped this wouldn't be a problem. She blinked when she picked up the bowl and found another note.

[Ticket for 1 free back massage from Miz, to be cashed in whenever]

Melody let out a soft laugh. Weird kid.

...Oh, right. She should probably talk to Mr. Pines about what Miz had told her earlier about her dietary needs, when she’d first brought up breakfast. Melody went back downstairs and put the bowl (licked clean) in the sink. "Mr. Pines?" She walked around the first floor, passing by Ford and Mabel, who were playing video games together. Dipper was sitting with them, complaining about how the Racoon had raised their debt again. Ford looked up at Melody.

"Oh, not you Dr. Pines. I was looking for your brother," Melody assured him before walking off. She missed his look of suspicion. Mabel nudged Ford. "Should I buy this new dress or the hat?" she asked.

Melody found Mr. Pines checking the closed shop front, probably so he'd be here to stop Dr. Pines if he tried to get into his lab. "Bill and Miz left--" she said.

Stan nearly had a heart attack at that statement, freezing in place.

"--and she wrote that they'll be back for lunch." Melody handed Stan the note along with the ticket. Stan pulled in a breath and grunted as he took the notes to read over. (He felt stupid now; shouldn’t have overreacted. He knew that if the kid was leaving, the kid’d do it with all sorts of fanfare, just to rub it in their faces. ...Y’know, assuming the demonic triangle didn’t just kill them all before he left as a ‘going away present’ to himself, or something. ...Unless that kind of ‘kill everyone’ thing was maybe more of a ‘breaking out’ thing, instead...) The back of the ticket for a free massage had more words on it, to the tune of: [Hi mister Stan, you looked like you might need one].

Damn. There were about twenty different ways he could take this, and none of ‘em were good. ‘Looked like he might need one’? That had at _least_ two ways he could read that. And he hadn’t even given the gold necklace back yet; she didn’t know he wanted to do that, or she _shouldn’t_ know, unless the kid had put up surveillance in his bedroom and the demon-kid had done the empath thing (both of which they both damn well knew not to do). So, what, this ‘massage’ was supposed to be on top of that gold chain gift-thing? And how old was she inside her head?

Was the kid’s little sister messing with him? It didn’t really feel like it, though. This felt more like a kid trying to fix things but not knowing how to make things alright. ...How bad did this demon-dragon-whatever want him to say, ‘I forgive you’, huh?

Stan pocketed the ticket and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. This was giving him a headache.

...He might actually have to take her up on something, even though he _knew_ that was a mistake with the kid watching him like a hawk. (He’d have to have a long talk with the kid first, separately, but…) For a demon, she really was like a kid. Stan had a feeling she was going to continue trying to give him stuff until _she_ felt like he'd forgiven her, even if he tried to tell her he had, no matter what he said or did, unless he _really_ put his foot down with her. (Reading Miz's note, he could sort of picture her with a ‘guilty Mabel’ look on her face. Like after what had happened with that ‘rainbow-blinding incident’ last summer… once he’d been able to see again. Ugh. ‘Aggressive forgiveness.’ It made him want to shudder.)

"Oh, Mr. Pines, before I forget -- earlier, Miz told me that the only thing she has a real issue with is melons, spicy foods, and carbonated drinks." Oh, right. Melody had used to do food carts and stuff; food allergies were a thing with that kind of stuff, he'd heard, really important. "Apparently she finds the bubbles painful, so she prefers tea or milk." Yeah, tea. The kid lived off that stuff, too. Milk, not so much. "She's mildly lactose intolerant, but it’s not bad enough that she would need to stop drinking milk. And apparently melon-flavored things are fine, she just can't eat the actual fruit. Honeydew and cantaloupe make her throat itch and watermelons make her nauseous."

"Uh… Huh." Stan grunted. It still left the question of _why_ she was allergic to stuff, when she could make bodies (‘vessels’, right, _whatever_ ) out of thin air however she wanted, as far as he could tell. Melody seemed to pick up on Stan's confusion. "Ah, she said that she wanted to 'keep features’ from the original her. I'm not sure what that means, but she said you would understand."

Stan nodded slowly. He thought he sort of got it. The kid talked about some stuff with his own body that way, ‘features’ and stuff. If Miz meant it the same way, then… she’d make her body allergic to stuff on purpose to be… _exactly_ like her old body? So, she’d been allergic to stuff way back when, too? ...Was it to help her feel more like herself, and less like a crazy triangle? ...He’d have to ask her when she and Bill got back.

...If they returned.

Stan rubbed a hand over his face. No, he was pretty sure he’d read that dragon-demon-used-to-be-human right. He was pretty damn sure that she wouldn’t go abducting Bill off someplace without any warning, or keep him from coming back even if she managed to do that and steal a march on Bill somehow. Stan was pretty sure that the kid would come to him first before leaving, if his little sister told him she wanted to leave, too. Just to… settle things out. (The kid knew how Stan felt about the idea of him jumping dimensions all on his own.) They hadn’t _left_ left; they hadn’t even gone someplace that Stan hadn’t recommended they go.

Hell, she had even left a note saying where they’d gone and that they would be back. The kid didn’t even do that for him; he just left without saying anything, half the time. Lying about where they were going wouldn’t occur to the kid; they hadn’t had to leave the note in the first place. The only way Stan would’ve found out about it was the next time he would have gone upstairs, since Melody couldn’t enter up there or check to see if they were there on her own -- she didn’t have access. They would’ve had until at least lunchtime, and maybe even dinner.

So yeah, Stan was pretty sure that Miz had meant it. So, he didn’t worry about it. He had bigger things to worry about in the meantime. He had to figure out what to do about Ford.

\----

Bill waved Miz out over the lake, and then turned and dropped in altitude rapidly, touching down carefully behind the ‘Bait & Tackle’ shop.

He hopped off of his flight-capable lantern-rod, looked around -- no, no-one was looking in his direction except Miz -- and dropped the ‘bubble of invisibility’.

He casually wrapped his arm around his lantern rod, holding it up against his shoulder, as he walked around two-and-a-half sides of the shop, to then walk straight in the front door.

Bill came to a stop just inside the open door. No-one else was in the shop besides him, and...

"Tater," he said, looking up at Glasses’ son, who was standing behind the counter.

"Bill." The man responded. His hat pulled down low over his eyes as per usual.

Bill walked up to the counter.

He pulled out a gold coin and slapped it down on the counter.

"I’m taking the Stan O’ War out today," he informed him. "My little sister is with me. Stanley gave us permission to use it." With the preliminaries of Tater’s ‘pier guard’ duties out of the way, Bill went on to address his ‘lake ranger’ duties with: "She is not a lake monster, she just looks like one sometimes. She will be in and above the boat with me. No-one but me should see her above the boat."

Glasses’s son said nothing.

"This," Bill lifted his hand and pointed down at the gold coin on the countertop, "Is solid gold. It should cover the pier cost and some bait." He’d made a few of them using the universal manufacturing unit in the spaceship days ago. He hadn’t liked using that much heavy matter to do it, but he hadn’t had a chance to pull a job on the unicorns for some 'natural’ gold, yet. (He’d thought of that a few days ago, trying to think of ways to ‘work with’ Stan, to get him _used to_ ‘working with’ him more, to work him up to… _well_. OTHER THINGS. And Stanley hadn’t done ‘two-man cons’ before, but he’d _WANTED_ to, hadn’t he?)

Bill couldn’t pull it off himself easily, but if he could get Stanley to go with him… (Right now, it wasn’t looking likely that he’d manage to talk Stanley into doing anything like that soon, though... Not unless he pushed that Stanford to fix himself first, so Stanley could stop having to ‘worry’ about him for Pine Tree and Shooting Star, and all that.)

Bill was _all about_ the planning, though -- he hardly counted on anything that wasn’t a sure-thing in the timeframes he wanted to work within. So _OF COURSE_ he’d tossed enough matter into that unit to make himself a few pieces of gold to have on him at all times, just in case. (It was the closest thing to a ‘universal currency’ in existence.)

 _Of course_ he’d taken over the spaceship to start with, in order to take it out of play and away from anyone else, to use. Bill wasn’t stupid, despite what that Stanford might think! Bill knew that Stanford was meeting up with Glasses ‘ _behind his back_ ’. He knew that his Zodiac talked to each other. He knew all this; he didn’t have to even try to use his injured Eye to check, damaging it further.

Bill hadn’t taken over and reprogrammed the security system on the spaceship to keep it out of that Stanford’s hands or Glasses’ reach, though. He’d done it because of what would have happened if the man standing right in front of him had decided to get mad, get involved, and gotten his hands on it before he had.

Pine Tree was still young, and he was going to be dangerous as anything out there _and then some_ when he got older. But Glasses’s son? The man was already older. And just as brilliant as his father. And less insane.

And a hell of a lot more pissed off with him than he acted, or acted on.

... _Yet._

"It’s not current legal tender," Bill told him of the gold piece, "And it is not a bribe." Bill felt he needed to be clear about this. "Taking it to the jeweler and having it exchanged for cash-monies will cost you time. You decide how much your time is worth, and the cost of what I am paying for today with it, and you can count the rest as credit," Bill told him. "I’m opening a running-tab-in-reverse."

"Debit system," Glasses’s son told him.

Bill blinked at him, scanning his memories of human-things-Seen for the term. "Yes. That." Bill took in a breath, maintaining eye contact with Glasses’s son. That sort of thing was important with dangerous humans. "My little sister and I might be coming here multiple times. It will be easier to not have to carry around money to pay every time." Glasses’s son said nothing, so Bill continued, finally addressing the final duties that Tater had here: 'shop owner’. "And I want to buy a bucket of bait and a kit of tackle for fishing-rod fishing." Stanley had made the fishing part sound important last time, part of the boating-part, so Bill wasn’t going to leave that out with his little used-to-be-human sister out here with him. "We’re doing human-things. You should not have to evacuate the lake because of us."

Glasses’s son said nothing.

Bill stared at him for a moment, then grabbed a half-full bucket of bait off of the counter, scooped up and dropped a box of tackle into it, and then slipped it onto the ‘S’ end of his lantern-rod.

He gave Tater something of a wide grin. "WELL. --GOOD TALK!!" Bill enthused in bright tones, but more than a little artificially, then turned on his heel 180 degrees and started back towards the door.

He froze in place for a moment, mid-step, when he heard Glasses’s son say behind him, "That stage of yours was a thing."

Bill felt his face twitch. He put his foot down.

(Bill shouldn't have turned his back on him.)

He swiveled back to face Tater (nearly taking out a postcard display at his side with his lantern-rod in the process) and said, "STAGE? WHAT STAGE?" Bill’s grin got wider and even more forced. "WHAT, THAT STAGE SHOOTING STAR AND I CLEANED UP?? HAHA! _NOT OURS!!_ PUBLIC PROPERTY! ABANDONED! IN THE LAKE!! _CLEARLY!!!_ \--COULD’VE BEEN ANYBODY’S!"

Glasses’s son said nothing.

Bill shut his mouth and debated the merits of saying something along the lines of, ‘If you want to not have something terrible happen to Glasses, like _DYING FOR INTERFERING WITH ME AGAIN_ , you’ll _make sure to keep your eyes on him and keep him away from Stanley’s house and my Six-Fingered-Hand for the next forty-eight hours_.’ But. Telling him that could backfire badly.

(It would probably be even worse than telling Tater exactly what had happened with the portal three decades ago, and exactly how much Tater _OWED_ him for what he’d done and not-done to Glasses back then. ...Because he might actually understand it. He _was_ that smart.)

Bill backed out of the shop, walking stiffly with his back straight and staring at Glasses’s son unblinkingly the entire time.

Once he was past the door, Bill quickly walked his way to the ‘boathouse’ and got the Stan O’ War out of there, cast a set of ‘waterproof’ and ‘breath-underwater’ spells on himself as he went (just like he had last time, the first time, he’d been out on the lake with Stanley). He got into the rowboat and set down the things he was carrying in the bottom of it. He picked up the paddles and started splashing and smacking away at the water with them. He did all of these things without any interference from Glasses’ son or anyone else whatsoever.

He was a bit focused on getting things ready for Miz, glancing up at the sky above him from time to time, as she ribboned through the air in lazy spirals overhead. So it didn’t occur to Bill until after he and Miz were ensconced out in the boat in the middle of the lake, with a ‘go-away-cryptids’ _and_ ‘go-away-stupid-humans’ set of warding spells that went out at least forty feet, that by the time morning had come around on Summerween day, it had already been raining for hours. The whole thing they'd set up out there the night before had already well-disintegrated by that point; it had in no way resembled a stage anymore. _**...So how had Tater known what it was?**_ Let alone that it had been _HIS?!?_

(It didn’t occur to Bill until much, much later than that, after thinking on an odd comment from Stanley, that, perhaps, Glasses’s son had actually been… complimenting him on it.)

(And when that happened, it left Bill feeling all out of sorts and odd in ways that he didn’t want to think about and know how to identify, let alone handle.)

\---

"We should catch some fish." Miz was leaning over the side of the boat as they drifted out further into the lake. (They’d been out for awhile already, just letting the time pass by, getting used to the boat a bit, looking at things…it was peaceful and comfortable.) She stared down into the water, feeling their little blips of life as they swam around. "Fish is yummy. And maybe I can bring some home for dinner? I'm not the one cooking it. I'm just bringing home my catch, so it should be acceptable, right?" She had one hand in the water, swishing around and wiggling her fingers. She was half-floating, half-lying in the boat, her long tail dragging through the water. Part of her wanted to go in for a swim. She loved playing in water.

Bill thought about it, from where he was sitting in the bottom of the boat. He was lounged oddly up against the side, with his head thrown back against the bench slat behind him, sprawled out and relaxing in the summer sun, soaking in the heat. "Maybe." Stanley had complained about her cooking before, but that had been more of an ‘at the same time while I’m already using it’ sort of thing, Bill had thought. Then again, with that Stanford downstairs… "We can ask."

Miz finally looked away from the water and sat up with her head tilted back. She Flickered. Bill watched as her eyes flashed through images and information at speeds faster than thought. She stayed like that for a few minutes before the images faded and she blinked slowly. "Huh… well… that explains it… no wonder I was so confused!"

Bill watched her straighten out. She’d been confused? "What did you learn?" he asked. Miz looked sheepish. "So… I seem to have gotten several versions of your dimension mixed up. They all START the same from an aesthetic point of view where a humanoid Bill shows up the year after Weirdmageddon…" She grumbled. "The Ax in charge of this dimensional set is a lazy ass!" she complained, as she flopped back on the bench and kicked her legs into the air.

Bill stared. That didn’t sound lazy to him -- that sounded like it might be the OPPOSITE of lazy, if he was right about what she was implying...

"Who's supposed to be able to tell the difference between them?! And one of them is a video game?! Aaaauuuuggghhh!!!" Miz rolled around on the bench, her tail flicking the water.

Bill slowly began to frown. "...You…" he wasn’t entirely sure how to put this. "...don’t like games?" he asked of her carefully.

"I love games! But this is… urgh… it’s hard to explain… there’s a whole dimension where their world is apparently a video game? I can’t quite understand what I’m looking at here…"

"8-bit or High-resolution?" Bill asked next.

"High definition. Looks almost like real life."

Bill blinked at her. "Two-dimensional or three-plus?" he asked of her next, raising his head.

"Three. And the Ax there is apparently some kinda system admin or a central processing AI or something? Which, makes sense actually now that I think about it… but… that’s not the weird part."

Bill slowly straightened up in place at the mention of the stupid lizard, and _how_ she had described it. "...What’s the weird part?" he prompted her.

"The Bill there… isn’t Bill. He’s… Will." She got very quiet at that.

Bill had been about to ask her about-- but what she’d said derailed every thought process he had going on entirely.

"...You’re… _sure_ it’s Liam?" he said, blinking rapidly.

"He… he called himself Will… but tried to deny it? I… don’t know if he’s…" She made a frustrated sound. What even the fuck was that?

Bill didn’t quite know what to say. If that… _person?_... tried to deny it, then… --no, but Miz _would_ recognize their/his/a-Will-Liam, wouldn’t she?

WAIT.

Bill’s eyes narrowed. "Was he talking about The Game?" Bill asked. "Or... The Rules?" If he _could_ , then that would mean he wasn’t a demon-from-the-outside. They always _VANISHED_ on Bill (...vanished on EVERYBODY, really...) after doing that -- or, well, _trying_ to do that, when _Bill_ tried to tease, force, cajole, or otherwise TRICK any of them into-- ...and then they never came back, not anyplace that _he_ could See. (Stupid lizard. Not wanting him to find out…)

"I think… he mentioned A game, but their whole dimension seems to be some kinda game so I’m not sure. But he looked like your human-ish form." Miz frowned at Bill. "It almost feels like your Ax set up a bunch of dimensions with the same starting point and just… let them go loose to change and evolve in different ways."

"But they all ended up at the same fixed point," Bill said, repeating what Miz had just told him earlier. "If it set things up so that, no matter what we did, we still did the same thing at the end and ended up losing, even after we... diverged?" What had been the starting point, and when had they all started diverging? Should he ask? (She’d said ‘starting point’ before, in referring to ‘coming back’, but… had she meant the same thing now? Or had she meant earlier in their trillion-years-so-far?) "That’s not lazy. That’s the OPPOSITE of lazy, if we all still ended up like..." Bill gestured at himself with a frown.

Miz was quiet. "But… why? What kind of… experiment is your Ax running?"

Bill let out a breath that was a half-sigh half-groan. "Probably the same one it’s running everywhere! --I think your dimension is different," he told her, "Because you’re different. --You’re a demon," he told her, "But YOU didn’t come ‘from-the-outside’ like ‘ _demon_ ’ demons do." He relaxed a little bit, leaning back against the seat behind him. "I think it’s trying to figure out one of those demons, maybe. So it made us. And isolated you," he told her, "Because you were more demon-like than the rest of us, and it didn’t want EVEN MORE interference from other demons when it was trying to figure something out. --Though that begs the question," Bill said darkly, "Did it make us FIRST, or did it make us LATER." The stupid thing had Rules, after all. And the stupid lizard interacted with demons-from-the-outside differently than any person _inside_ the infinite dimensional multiverse; it generally, in Bill’s experience, never interacted with any of _them_ at all, the ones who had always been-and-stayed ‘inside’.

Except for him. Just Bill. Just once.

"...I don’t know. Can’t see anything _really_ important for some reason." Miz frowned, her tendrils wiggling around her. "Like it’s blocked."

"It does that," Bill confirmed. "Doesn’t want us getting into things too deeply. Been working on my Eye since forever-and-a-day, and there are still things I have trouble trying to See," and not just in the ‘taking a LOT of effort’ way. "Are you being blocked from seeing things earlier, or later? Certain locations, not times, or just times?" Bill asked. "Are they the same as us, or are they other-Bills?"

Miz just groaned as she flickered a few more times before giving up. "Anything before the whole…’is now a blue haired human-ish’ is kinda blurry."

Bill blinked at her.

"...So, you _don’t_ know how we all started out," Bill said slowly. Apparently, they both had VERY definitions of what ‘starting point’ meant.

"A couple of them I can get a sense for. Was a yellow triangle, started Weirdmageddon, got punched by Stan. That seems to be the trend in most of the dimensions I’ve Seen."

Bill blinked at her again. "...I wasn’t yellow when I was living in my dimension, before it burned down," he told her carefully. "How far back can you See?"

"Specifically you? Not too much. It’s all...vague? But a lot of elements overlap with others and I got them all confused and mixed up with each other."

Well, "It _should_ be vague with me!" he told her with a smile. He hadn’t been expecting her to see much about HIM, specifically, because… "I locked down most of my own Information, here, a long time ago," he admitted to her. "Keeps idiot demons from seeing weak points!" Bill waved it off far more casually than he actually felt about it. (He did NOT want to think about how many times he’d had to handle some of those… _individuals_... talking shit about his brother without even knowing him; Bill had put a stop to that VERY QUICK. And once he’d done that…)

Bill hadn’t expected other Bills to potentially have done that, locked down the ability for others to view their own pasts, but… maybe he should have? _He’d_ done it himself, after all. And while Miz and Seb were hims-that-were-also-hims, and seemed to have far less control than he did… they had been from much ‘farther’ away. It was interesting to him to be given such easy confirmation that Miz truly wasn't close enough to being him that his own spell- and weird-work automatically recognized her as being himself; quite the opposite. (Because while Bill had locked others out of viewing the details of his past, it wasn't as though he'd locked HIMSELF out of viewing his _own_ past -- though he did it but rarely, given that his own memory was one of perfect recall. It was looking FORWARD that had caused him problems.)

These Bills, by Miz’s own comparison, were potentially ‘closer’ to him, and potentially closer to being the same as him, after all. Maybe he shouldn’t have let Miz and Seb so strongly inform his thinking about what Bills were like, up until this point... but. "My dimension was grey, mostly. Tints of black; not much white." The circles had outlawed color.

"There are… dimensions where Flatland had no color, like you described." Miz frowned. "My Flatland had limited color. But Seb’s Flatland was colorless." she paused. "And he had a Liam too." she paused again "Instead of a Will like I did."

"So, Seb and I might be closer in our timelines," Bill mused, thoroughly unamused. "I wonder if that’s shared-similar history, or shared fixed-points instead."

"Well, there was a door called [Flat Dreams] that had multiple other doors stretching behind it. Yours and Seb’s doors were around that area." Miz pointed out. "My door was… kinda isolated."

Bill tilted his head at her. "Doors in your Dreamscape have similar origins?" he asked. "Starting conditions for us?"

"More like they’re organized in some way." Miz hummed. "Like… grouped together by similar features?"

"Hm," said Bill. "Did you organize them, or was it the lizard?" If it was the stupid lizard, there was no way they’d figure out what those features were. The big frilly jerk.

"Well, I’m a naturally organized person who likes to sort things, so I wouldn’t put it past my own unconsciousness sorting the doors." Miz paused. "So like… I guess you and Seb are from worlds with a grayscale Flatland and a big brother named Liam."

"...That would imply that you can See things _unconsciously_ farther than you can See them consciously!" Bill told her. HA! --That was something she’d have to work on. (But at least it was something she COULD work on, that wasn’t starting from absolutely NOTHING and trying to MAKE SOMETHING from _THAT_.)

"My mind is a really weird place." Miz sighed. "After all, I was born already knowing a basic timeline for how a Bill Cipher’s life was supposed to go… and I proceeded to mess it all up."

Bill let out a laugh. --Well, he couldn’t contest that! "Weird is good! ...But." He paused for a moment. "How did you know how it was ‘supposed to go’?" He left it at that; he’d already discussed with her how ‘messing it up’ was a GOOD thing.

"Back when I was human, there was a story. Multiple stories actually." Miz wasn’t sure if this would be too existential for Bill but, he DID ask. "I liked reading the stories. There were hundreds of them, all branching off from the first. A story about a pair of twins who got sent to live with their great uncle for a summer…"

Bill tilted his head at her. "What’s your point?" (He didn’t make the connection. It was too general, and he didn’t think like a human. He didn’t always pick up on the same patterns -- read: almost _never_ did. ...Not if he wasn’t reading minds--)

"It was the story of the Pines, Gravity Falls and… how they defeated a yellow triangle named Bill Cipher."

Bill blinked at her again. "What’s your point?" This was strange to her? (People told stories about him all the time! Granted, they usually didn’t talk about his _defeat_ , but… was she not familiar with the concept of…?)

"I read a whole BUNCH of those stories. And...I think… a lot of those doors I have… lead to them." Miz admitted. "I remember thinking that the door that said [Flat Dreams] sounded familiar but I couldn’t figure out why. But I think it was the name of one of the stories I read."

Bill let out another laugh.

He grinned at her and stretched a bit.

"Kid," he said, as he relaxed his stupid human-ish body’s muscles and dropped his arms again, "What do you think ‘infinity’ is?"

Miz made a weird face "So… you mean… there’s a door out there… leading to a dimension where there’s a human-ish Bill Cipher getting fucked by both Ford and Dipper at the same time?" It was FINE when it was just a stupid smut-fic, but to think that it was REAL? Ew….

"Eh." Bill waved it off. "Not all dimensions exist at the same time. And if THAT’S happening somewhere right now," he not-quite-snickered, "Then I would NOT call THAT one of ‘us’ a Bill Cipher who is like us!" Bill-as-himself certainly wouldn’t go around doing such… icky and stupid body-things. Just… ew. And he _certainly_ would not ‘let’ any Zodiac of his get away with disrespecting his boundaries or bodily-integrity like that, let alone let things progress to that point. (Why would any one of him want that? Clearly, that was an other-him-that-was-not-him. _Clearly_.)

Miz shuddered. "Two at once… in the same hole… how did they manage that without magic?!"

"Ears are larger than you think," Bill said sagely. Then again, maybe she’d meant a hole made in their midsection with knives? That seemed more up a Stanford’s alley. You could do just about anything to a body once it was dead. Miz stared at Bill and blinked slowly before deciding she wasn’t going to correct him. Less traumatic for her.

The more important question to his little sister on that, though, at gauging her human-looking reactions to the idea of what she’d just said, was… "If you didn’t _like_ that story, then why did you _read_ it?" Bill asked her.

"....because I was bored…" Miz blushed orange.

Bill let out a laugh. "If you’re bored, then you’re booooooooring~" he teased with the start of a grin, then grimaced and lifted a hand to his throat, cutting himself off from singing any further. Ah, his voice _really_ wasn’t what it used to be. This stupid form he was stuck in… He couldn’t hit any of the etherics at all, he was pretty certain of it, _let alone_ any of the ultrasonics or infrasonics in the usual frequencies he usually liked to toss in there, just for fun! (He’d avoided doing much more than humming before, because he hadn’t really wanted to confront that…)

Bill slumped in place and let out a bit of a huffy sigh, not quite massaging his throat with his fingers and a continuing grimace. Would Stanlet consider it a large change to add just a _little_ more range? An octave or twenty-four?

Miz was still muttering quietly to herself about… what was apparently a whole bunch of really awful stories she’d read. And her horror at those stories being somehow real in a dimension somewhere. "The freaking Once-ler outfit from that god-awful movie!"

Bill watched her discomfort for awhile, and it occurred to him to wonder if he should worry about whether reading so much of so many things _before_ when she’d been bored, had potentially somehow set his sister up to be hurt by it, or break over it in some way, _now_. He slowly started to frown. He had a feeling that a ‘there-there’ or a hug might not be enough this time...

"...Well. If there are stories you liked… then they may also exist too?" he tried, then stopped and had to rethink when that didn’t seem to help her any. ...So it was the ones she didn’t like that were the problem, were they? "And not all of the ones you don’t like may exist YET," he told her. "If I kill the stupid lizard first, then they may-never?" He looked at her somewhat-hopefully. Had he fixed things for her, at least a little?

"Well. I’m gonna try to find more info about the dimensions around yours now. To… take my mind off this topic." Miz coughed as she looked away and started Flickering again. Finally Miz slumped over. She had an arm draped over her eyes, a low whine escaping her throat. "Why're they ALL Blue???"

Bill wasn't sure how to react to this. Was there something wrong with blue? He liked blue! Did she not like blue as a color? ...But he should be supportive of her anyway, even if she didn’t like it. He was her big brother, after all. Stiffly (as usual), Bill placed his hand on her head to press down, lift, and press down again. (That was how patting worked, right? She hadn’t complained yet. So he was probably doing it right!)

"There, there?" he told her, trying to be supportive of her likes and apparent dislikes in color choice. That would be a stupid thing to fight with her about, after all. She could like and dislike whatever she wanted. That was fine! (Not liking blue didn’t mean she disliked HIM, even if his hair was mostly blue, in the color-shade he really REALLY liked…)

Miz sighed. "Thanks big brother…"

"...Do you want to tell me?" he asked her. (...instead of asking what he probably shouldn’t ask her about what she thought of the color blue: _do I want to know?_ )

"...your Ax is a weirdo… also I think blue is very nice color. Will was blue, it was really pretty. I’m just wondering why your Ax’s dimensional set contains so many blue Bills." She mumbled darkly, "If they get mad and turn red, would it turn into Bled?"

‘Weirdo’ was not how Bill would describe ‘his’ lizard. But at Miz’s evaluation of blue, Bill relaxed quite a bit. (...Though he did get an odd feeling at the idea of someone potentially thinking his blue was ‘pretty’ -- _he_ wasn’t _pretty_ , he was a snappy dresser who was THE WORST! Haha...)

But at the last thing Miz said to him about the so-called ‘color’ Bled, Bill’s eyes went a little wide and he looked more than a little bit horrified.

"..." said Bill. (And if anyone had asked him about it later, he would have told them that he’d probably hit some of those out-of-stupid-human-ish-body-vocal-range frequencies on his response to the idea of ever turning that particular color.)

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: .....Bled.
> 
> There's so much stuff in my head about how MizBill's powers work and other stuff that I just haven't written down yet, since she/he doesn't think about it all the time and no one else thinks to ask. So having a 3rd person POV with a not-quite interrogation about her powers and stuff is really good for me to throw this information in.
> 
> Also, there are so many events and scenes that are in my head that I just haven't written down yet. Gonna be addressing a bunch of these in the following chapters.
> 
>  **My AN:**  
>  Mood / Same hat. So, so very much!
> 
> [Last chappy's AN](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179454/chapters/52950262#chapter_2_endnotes) also applies here.


	4. Chapter 73: My friends look like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> It feels great to have a sibling who can appreciate music with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miz' original AN:  
> A/N: Oh my god. I'm in third place for highest word count for a Gravity Falls fic
> 
> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 83 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/42300788). It was first posted on Mar 11, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\---

Stan jumped at the sound of a heavy, wet thud hitting the outside door of the gift shop. He got up from behind the front counter, and walked over to the door. Frowning -- and fully ready to pull a ‘grumpy old con-man’ on some of the townskids, Stan unlocked and opened the door to find a half-open burlap sack sitting on the porch in front of him, filled with fish that were still flopping around weakly. He squinted at the piece of paper that was attached to the bag, then grabbed at a corner and tugged it off to read it.

[I didn't cook them so it's fine!]

Stan rubbed his face. It was like a cat bringing home a dead squirrel or something. (Well, the kid _did_ act like a stray cat most days. He really shouldn’t be surprised that this demon kid did, too.) He _really_ needed to talk to Miz about this. Otherwise she'd probably keep trying to ‘apologize’ by giving him stuff without understanding anything. --Hell, apparently she’d even misunderstood that he’d only meant that he didn’t want her trying to cook at the stove at the same time as him earlier that morning, because they’d get in the way of each other; the stove wasn’t that big.

Stan stared down at the bag of weakly-flopping fish. ...The thing really wasn’t going anywhere, was it?

...Well, free fish was free fish, he guessed. He just hoped the two demons had cleaned off the Stan ‘O War when they brought it back. Fishing was always pretty messy, and fish guts started smelling pretty bad after a day or so; after two days it was nearly impossible to get the smell out of the wood. He'd be pretty annoyed with the kid if the boat wasn't cleaned up from their use of it; he'd make the kid clean it himself, to learn better. ...Heh, he'd cross that demon's screw-up when he had to, if he had to. Wasn't like the kid didn't like 'nose smelling’ and whatnot; it'd serve the kid right if the kid hadn't thought that one all the way through, from what Stan had told him last time.

" _Soos!_ " Stan called out loudly into the house. " _Got something for you to carry!_ " Not like Stan wanted to handle all that fish himself. While he waited, Stan crumpled up the note and stuffed it into a pocket for safe disposal later; he didn’t want to risk his brother going through the trash and seeing it...

\---

Ford stared as Stan wandered in after Soos, who was carrying a sack of what appeared to be live fish into the kitchen. Dipper gasped. "What's with all that fish?"

"Dinner." Stan grunted. Melody helped her fiance set the sack down on the tile floor of the kitchen. She easily put two and two together (Miz's note about playing at the lake with this bountiful donation) and glanced at Stan. She didn’t say anything though, knowing to keep quiet about it since Ford was nearby and perfectly able to overhear them and anything or anyone they talked about. She couldn't help but sigh, though. "I should look up how to cook fish," she noted. Fish was not one of the types of meat she was used to preparing. "What kinds are these?"

"Trout… bass… here's a salmon…" Stan rummaged around in the bag, moving some fish aside. They flopped weakly. Hell, they didn’t have enough room in the fridge for all this even with the thing nearly empty, and there was no way they would be able to eat this all in three days, let alone one afternoon and evening. The goat wasn’t gonna be able to handle all the leftovers from this, either. They were gonna end up with gnome problems at the house if those two pulled this again -- and the two of ‘em had talked about going out there on the lake at least twice, which meant at least one more time. (Stan was starting to regret telling the kid when he’d taken him out there that fishing was an important human boating thing to do.) --Stan _really_ needed to talk to the demon-kids.

"Put these in the fridge for now, we'll bring ‘em out to the grill outside for dinner later," Stan grunted as he picked out three fish and handed them over. That should be enough to feed them. He handed the sack back to Soos. "Help me bring these upstairs," he grunted. Soos nodded, a cheerful smile on his face. Stan would have waited until later for this, but it was pretty clear that he had to tell Miz to stop giving him stuff _right now_ before it got any worse.

Ford was distracted from the peculiar particulars of Stan’s trip upstairs (and from walking over to determine exactly how many fish were still in that bag...) by Mabel practically crawling up into his lap to show him the latest sweater she was knitting. He adjusted his glasses and peered down at a pattern that consisted of a forest green backdrop with recurring stitched-in images of popsicles on it. (He still noted that there was _something_ ~~weird~~ odd happening upstairs. But what?)

\---

Stan dragged the fish sack behind him as he made it up the final flight of stairs and up into the kid's room. Bill and his sister were laying on the ground, on their backs, watching some kinda cartoon on the ceiling. "Why're none of the humans listening to the guy who clearly knows what's going on?" he heard Bill ask. Miz was snuggled up against the kid’s side, pressing their arms together but not grabbing him. "Because they're scared and don't want to listen." She sighed.

Looking up at the white square screen-looking thing that ‘hung’ mid-air right below the ceiling rafters, Stan saw the image of a bunch of people in a boat that appeared to be sailing through some kinda… weirdness fog? They were all screaming and panicking aside from a colorfully dressed man who was calmly investigating.

Bill didn't look over at Stan but he clearly knew he was there -- Stan had only ever heard _that_ kinda tone out of the kid when he knew Stan was listening to him complaining about how humans were so dumb, because the kid was annoyed that he thought one of the niblings hadn’t been listening to him (...usually, because Bill had just gotten done doing something that was some kind of stupid, and couldn’t freaking explain himself worth a damn to the niblings without yours truly as a demon-talk translator most times).

"Hey," Stan spoke up. "We don't have room for all the fish downstairs. So here's the extras." He set the sack down near the two of ‘em, about a foot or two away -- closer to Miz, who had eaten a lot more than the kid the night before and had been a hell of a lot less picky about it -- and Miz reached for it, turning her head so she could see it. "Hi mister Stan," she greeted as she wiggled her fingers and made the sack slide towards her. Her tail was out, wagging back and forth lazily.

Stan took this time to ask a few questions. "Why're you a dragon again?"

"Because dragons are cool," she said simply. Well, Stan guessed he couldn't fault her for that. He was pretty sure that if Mabel suddenly got weirdness powers at her disposal she'd probably turn herself into a mermaid or something. He watched Miz take out a fish. It thrashed weakly before she pressed her hand against it and made a sweeping motion. The fish stilled. Then Miz opened her mouth up reeeeeal wide and proceeded to swallow it whole.

...Stan wasn't entirely sure he wanted to ask but he did anyway. "What did you just do?"

Miz opened her mouth, closed it and thought. "Would it upset you to know?" she finally asked. Stan sighed. (Well, at least she was probably doing the ‘asking the memory of the sister in her head’ thing.) "How bad is it?"

More thinking. "Kinda bad?" Miz sounded a little unsure. (Okay, _definitely_ the ‘asking the sister in her head’ thing. Stan recognized that look from some of Carla’s friends back in high school, along with the tone.) Despite that, Stan would rather know what it was than to **not**. "Tell me," Stan said.

She hummed. "I don't like eating things while they're still alive," she said, instead of what she was going to say first. "It feels cruel to me."

...which means she killed the fish before she ate it. Yeah, okay. Stan could fill in the blanks. He let out a slow breath as he thought over how she’d done it, how quickly it happened. All she had done was swipe her hand across it, and the animal had simply… died. No blood, no mess… in less than a second. Just alive one second and dead the next.

He held back a shiver. He was suddenly glad Miz wasn't hostile. He also wondered if the kid could do that too. Then he wondered how many other demons could do that. Was it something unique to Miz, and maybe Bill, or did all the demons out there have that kind of ability? ...If they did, then no wonder Ford was freaked the hell out by demons in general.

Miz was looking up at him. "Should I not have said anything?" she asked. Stan took a deep breath. "Does that little trick of yours work on more than just fish?"

Slowly, she nodded. "I… didn't want it to suffer. I could just… physically kill them but fishes aren't like most animals where I can just snap their necks to kill them quick and painless." She reached for another fish. "If you're worried about me using it on people, I have no desire to kill any person here or out there and I won't purposely try to do so."

Bill had looked over almost immediately when Miz had done what she’d done, near a member of his Zodiac. He’d felt the small ripples in energy across the spectrum, including magic. Bill watched closely as Miz took the life from the next fish. She pulled out and absorbed all its energy in a quick motion -- instant death, no pain, no suffering. She fed off its gathered life force first and then ate the body to break it apart for more energy. Interesting. Not quite the way he fed on things himself -- but then, she was used to having a body, and eating physical things in stable dimensions.

Once Bill had determined that what Miz was doing and the way she was doing it wouldn’t disrupt the spellwork he’d put into place up here (death magic and sacrifices were a thing, after all), Bill stopped worrying about it. ...Yes, there was a little leakage, but she clearly wasn’t used to saving every last erg of energy she got out of anything, and a little sloppy eating wouldn’t hurt anyone here. (The spellwork would just pull in the rest of the free-floating waste energy.) Miz just as obviously had full control of the process, and could probably manage less ‘slop over’ if she wanted to put in the focus to do that much.

Stan was quiet as he thought. Miz said she wouldn't purposely try to kill anyone. "Is there a way you'd do this trick by accident?" He was prepared to kick her out of the house and away from his family if there was even a chance--

"No. It uses too much concentration." Stan untensed. Okay. That was _some_ good news. He supposed he should be grateful that at the very least, she didn't like having her food suffer needlessly. (Didn't necessarily mean she felt the same way about people she _didn't_ like, but, y'know, not like most people would be any better than that, in Stan's experience. Whatever. She didn't 'desire’ to hurt them right now, or anything like that. Those were details he could work with.)

"That's good," Stan said finally. (He also tried not to think about the fact that maybe she’d gotten so good at this kind of killing because of what she’d said earlier about that jerk baby and…)

"It’s the difference between ‘efficiency’ and ‘style’ with some theatrical flair," Bill told him casually, staring up at the ceiling at the cartoon again. And at the kid’s two cents on this, Stan frowned, because he recognized that tone as the kid’s ‘instructive voice’. That meant that that wasn’t _just_ two cents that the kid was willing to toss out there, and Stan _knew_ that he wasn’t gonna like the next thing, because it was going to be something he’d missed before that was dead-true.

Stan wasn’t going to back down, though. He wasn’t gonna walk away with just a measly two cents when the kid was about to pay up something he owed.

"You wanna explain?" Stan said to the kid, and he didn’t even try to brace himself, because he’d found out over the last couple of weeks that that usually just made it worse.

He saw the kid get a slow smile, and it wasn’t even a very big one. (Shit.)

And then ‘Bill Cipher’ decided to make an appearance.

The kid’s whole posture changed, just… _shifted_. He wasn’t lazily lounging, relaxed where he was laid out on the floor. No, there was _presence_ there, instead. Miz looked over with an awestruck expression.

Bill Cipher was grinning. His eyes were wide, his posture and gestures almost upbeat as he kicked up his feet a bit, to bend his knees and let out one of those ‘HAHAHAHA!’ laughs of his.

Bill made a gesture upwards, gaining attention. " _STANLEY_ ," he half-drawled out, slowly turning his head towards him, eyes straightforward. "I’m _surprised_ at you!" He twisted slightly in place, bending his torso more to face him, without actually moving his legs all that much or actually ending up laying on his side. His body looked far more rigid now. "Bringing up all that raw, LIVELY fish up here for my sister to eat." The grin he was giving Stan right now got a bit more wide. "The least you could do is SERVE IT to her PROPERLY!"

And then… then Bill made a sort of ‘what can you do’ gesture with his arms out to the side that _looked_ almost natural…. except that Stan, a showman himself, knew that if Bill had gone any further with that then he had, that he would have ruined the illusion of ‘carelessly floating sideways’ by smacking his left hand and arm straight into the hard wooden floor.

"DEAD, DEAD, and MORE DEAD is the way to go, Stanley. Tsk tsk!" Bill enthused out.

And then Bill said, "I think I’m gonna KILL ‘em all, JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT!"

And he raised his right hand.

And snapped his fingers.

...And Stan realized something was off.

Stan looked down.

And he realized that what was off was that every single one of those fish had stopped moving.

There was a long pause. Stan took in a breath.

He let it out again.

He looked up, and saw that Bill wasn’t even looking at him anymore. He was looking up at the ‘cartoon’ again, and slowly, easily, letting all the tension drain out of that body of his, to look like he had before.

...Going ‘low energy state’ on him again. Shit.

Stan looked down at the bag of dead fish again. He closed his eyes for a moment.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t recognized the wording. He wasn’t an idiot.

(Guess that answered the question of whether the kid could pull this shit off, too.

"So." Stan took a moment to breathe in… and it was a lot easier than maybe it should have been for him. "Probably a good thing that you like the whole ‘stylish theatricality’ thing, then, huh kid."

"Maybe," said Bill. Stan looked up at him, because what the hell… "It wouldn’t really matter if I did it either way, though, now that I’m HERE."

Stan tried not to react to that. He was pretty sure he’d succeeded, but… this was something he was gonna have to talk to the kid about. _Alone._ He needed a straight answer about what the kid had meant when he’d said that, and he wasn’t so sure that he’d get one out of him with the ‘kid sister’ around to interrupt them or listen in.

This was Zodiac stuff. It had that feel to it. Kid got touchy as hell about this stuff. Stan knew he _had_ to be careful about this.

"...We’re gonna talk about this later," was what Stan settled on saying, instead of what he’d wanted to say right then. He got a "Fine," out of the kid, which was more than enough. (It was already too much. Stan knew he was probably gonna have nightmares about this, because Ford was right. There was nothing stopping the kid from doing _anything_ to them except the kid himself. ...which just meant that _he_ was right, too. If he could find a way to convince Bill _not to pull this shit on any of them_ , and make sure that the kid never wanted to, never had a reason to...)

Miz was gazing at Bill in awe. _‘He’s sooooo coool!!!!’_ She looked down at her own hand and flicked her fingers, not casting any spells or anything, just trying (and failing) to snap her fingers. Just a soft ‘foof’ sound that was NOWHERE near as impressive as that really cool sharp noise that Bill made. She flicked her fingers uselessly a few more times before giving up. Eh, wasn’t all that important, she just wouldn’t look as cool. She ate another fish.

Stan glanced down at the sound, blinking. His eyebrows went up slightly when he realized what Miz was trying to do. And when Stan did, it took almost everything he had not to laugh at the absolute absurdity of it (though it would've been a hell of a lot of horror instead, if Stan had been stupid enough to think that ‘snapping fingers’ actually meant a dead someone somewhere...).

But when Stan got a good look at the expressions on her face through all of it, as she kept looking down at her fingers, and then stealing glances at Bill...

Stan relaxed a little and huffed out an amused breath at the little sis trying to emulate the cool big brother. Because hell, some things were the same even for triangle demons, huh.

"You gonna teach your kid sister how to snap her fingers there, kid?" Stan asked the kid, slowly settling into place where he was sitting. (Moving past the horror of how Bill _could_ have just as easily snapped his fingers when he’d been holding the kids in the Fearamid, without even saying anything or going through that ‘eenie-meeny-miney’ game of his… didn't really take much for Stan while he was awake. Because Stan knew that Bill not only didn’t have a reason to kill them all right _now_ , the triangle demon hadn’t wanted to kill them all _then_. Because Bill had had a reason then -- they’d been attacking him -- and Bill _still_ hadn’t just pulled the trigger on the spot, ‘efficiently’, even after being threatened with the holding-hands circle.)

(--And _that_ was how Stan _knew_ this was Zodiac stuff. Bill didn’t go ‘wasting’ time or energy when he didn’t have to, ever. Came up too often when they talked about things, and the kid was too consistent about it. He’d tossed the rest of the Zodiac up into the rafters, trapping them in banners, but he hadn’t killed them, either. Saving them for later. Stan was pretty sure at this point that the kid _needed_ them for something. The kid would’ve gotten rid of them all by now, otherwise. Instead, the kid was _trying to get along_... Hell, Bill had even tried to do that before with the Gleeful kid, the whiny little waste of space. --The idea of killing Mabel ‘not mattering’ though, that didn’t fit. Stan needed to lock down what that actually meant, _real_ soon.)

Bill blinked and turned his head to look over at his sister, trying to snap her fingers just like him.

"...You want help with that?" Bill asked Miz slowly, almost like the kid was testing the waters.

"I’ll get it eventually…" Miz muttered, staring down at her fingers again. How was it that EVERYONE could do this except her? Her sisters had both been able to snap their fingers just fine.

Bill seemed to shrug it off. "You can always cheat," he informed her, thinking of sound illusions. Miz laughed lightly. "It wouldn’t be as satisfying." Bill thought for a moment, then looked up at Stan. "Watch someone doing it with your Eye, the next time we’re outside?" Bill said, still looking up at Stanley.

Miz groaned. "I know HOW it works. I just… can’t seem to get it TO work." She flicked her fingers again with a faint ‘thup’ sound. Bill let out a deep sigh. "Did you try watching the motion _slowly_?" he tried next, giving just a slight hint. He didn’t want to give away too much; he knew how he’d always felt when Liam had just given him something instead of letting him figure it out -- he felt almost cheated, because then he hadn’t been able to show that he could do it, figure it out on his own! Miz frowned at her hand and slowly moved her fingers for a bit before trying again. ‘Foof’ ‘Foop’ ‘Thop’ ‘Thock’ ‘Pop’. She finally managed a quiet popping sound. Not quite a snap unless you squinted and turned your ears diagonal but it was close.

"Better!" Bill encouraged her, smiling. "You know what you did differently that time?"

"My hands are a little sweatier. I thought giving them some stickiness would help…" Miz blushed faintly. "Mmhmm," said Bill. "And what does having sweaty hands do that not-sweaty hands don’t do as well? Or maybe too well?"

"Makes the friction different." Miz glanced over at Bill. "Yes," said Bill. "Now, where are you holding your fingers when you start?" Miz pressed her fingers together. Her thumb and middle finger pressed together, bent slightly. She flicked and got another faint popping noise. She tried it a few times, every now and then getting an actual snap (but very quiet).

"Good!" Bill said. "Now… you could feel where everything was relative to each other in that hand of yours when you were doing that, right?" Miz nodded. "What was hitting what when you got more or less noise?"

"My finger was hitting here--" She poked at her hand. "And it made the sound."

"Mmhmm," said Bill. "What was there right before that, when you started?"

"Um...I wasn’t hitting it on the right spot. And my fingers were sliding instead of snapping." Miz continued flicking her fingers, getting more faint snaps here and there. Bill glanced over, and sighed as he realized at least part of the problem. "Your time sense isn’t working right now, is it," he said, feeling a bit like an idiot now.

"...no… it’s sealed." Miz admitted sheepishly.

"You can’t track the relative placements, relative to each other properly with just touch, and you can’t amp up your sight to catch everything slowly enough because your time sense isn’t there," Bill told her, reaching up to pat her on the head. "You’re effectively trying to train muscle memory by sound. That’s going to take forever. You should wait until we’re outside the barrier and away from people again, when you have the headband off, to try again."

Miz nodded. "Ok big brother." She poked at her headband, which Stan realized she had changed to a dark blue color with a small metal plate with a swirled design on it. Huh. He felt like this was a reference to something; it had that ‘trying to be obviously _a thing_ ’ look to it. Miz reached over to eat some more fish since she was done with trying to learn this for now. Miz swallowed the fish before she seemed to realize something. She wiggled, looking like she wanted to say something while glancing up at Stan shyly. Stan sighed. "What is it?"

"My human dad used to eat things while they were still alive," she admitted. "Like shrimp and stuff. Because he liked the way they wiggled inside him. But I never liked it personally, I thought it was mean." She frowned. "And my human grandma used to bring home placenta from her job at the hospital to made soup for my mom to eat." She threaded her fingers together. "So… even as a human… I… think maybe I don't know what was considered… normal."

Stan stared. Ok. A lot to unpack there. "Uh." What was she trying to say? And hey, "What’s placenta?" Stan asked, and Bill didn’t quite grimace. "Terminology issue," Bill told Miz. "--Human afterbirth," the kid put out there for Stanley.

Stan’s eyes went a little wide. They’d made soup out of--

"That is a thing that I definitely do not need to know anything about _ever!_ " Stan said with feeling.

Bill just shrugged it off. "--I told you kid," Bill told Miz. "Normal is overrated. And stupid. And doesn’t exist. Weird is where it’s at!" Bill turned his head towards her and tossed her a grin.

Miz nodded. "Weird is better," she agreed. (If ‘weird’ meant not eating… _that_ , then as far as Stan was concerned, he wasn’t gonna disagree!) "But if I want to get along better with humans…"

"Yeahhhh, don’t do that thing," Stan told her. "Stick with the ‘ask your little sister inside your head thing.’ Maybe with a dose of ‘would she do that thing to somebody who she liked who wasn’t family," Stan added for good measure, just in case. (Families could be weird about stuff, and he was pretty sure that adding that wouldn’t make anything _worse_ , anyway. Should still be in-line with what the kid had told her earlier; Stan wasn't about to contradict him without a really good reason on this, especially since the kid had figured it out and come up with it to start with, when there was no way Stan would have thought of that on his own. Kid knew demons; not like Stan wasn't gonna take advantage of that when the kid was happy to help him out.)

Miz rolled back and forth on the ground. "I think… learning 'stop’ and ‘no’ might be good for me," she said quietly. "And… if I mess up, please explain what I did wrong?" She paused. "Ax doesn't really care _what_ I do so long as I'm not destabilizing the multiverse. And Jessie is more firm with me about not hurting people but Time Baby says it's fine to kill as long as it's for the greater good, and he just randomly kills his own men just for _sassing_ him anyway, you can ask the twins, I think they've met your Time Baby… but they don't tell me that there are things I'm not supposed to **say** to people…"

Stan stared at her. ...Yeah, screw unpacking. Just toss out the whole **_fucking_** suitcase.

"Kid. If you ain't sure, just don't say anything until you've talked to me about it, whatever it is," Stan told her. "We can work on what is or isn't okay to say later. The whole thing with the ‘stop’ and ‘no’ is that, as long as you actually stop when we tell ya to, we’ll tell you to stop before it gets too bad, and _tell_ you what the problem is, okay? You just gotta listen and go along with it, is all; same as the kid does." Stan rubbed his face, feeling old and tired. Miz nodded, watching the discomfort on his face.

"...do you want that back massage?" Miz asked quietly. "I'm very good at it. My human parents taught me how to do it ever since I was a kid."

Stan sighed. "Kid, you gotta stop giving me stuff just because you want me to forgive you." Now he wished he’d gone to his bedroom and grabbed the gold necklace before coming up there, even if it woulda made the room smell like fish for a couple hours.

"But I don't know how I'm supposed to apologize."

"You don't do the thing that hurt him again," Stan told her, because words were cheap, and actions were more than good enough for him -- especially _that_ action. "When you understand what you did wrong and feel bad for it -- not for hurting me but for hurting Ford -- then you can apologize. Until then..." he trailed off.

Miz rolled onto her side. "My existence is what's hurting Ford." she said in a small voice, and that left Stan taken aback a bit. Frowning, he glanced over at Bill. "And I can't apologize because I'm not supposed to let him see me?" Miz continued. "Even though I'm not mad anymore?" ...Yeah, that was the other problem. Stan still wasn't sure how to handle it. That wasn't gonna last forever -- they needed something better that actually fixed stuff, instead of running away from it.

Bill didn’t say anything. Stan started to frown a bit more over at the kid.

"Hey mister Stan?"

"Yeah?" Stan grunted, redirecting his attention to Miz again as Miz played with her tail, tugging at it and tracing the brick shaped scales. "Would going into Ford's dream and… making him see happy things… help or make things worse?" Stan winced. "--Stay outta his head, no matter what," Stan told her, because if anybody had asked him what he was absolutely sure would only make things worse... that kind of thing would've topped the list, along with ‘Here! Have another Weirdmageddon!’ (Ugh.) Miz nodded. "Ok…"

She frowned in thought. "If Ford is just scared because other Bills who aren't as nice might come here, would he feel better if he had his Quantum Destabilizer back?"

"That ain’t the problem, kid," Stan told her. Because it wasn't. Not really. Stan was pretty sure it had to do with the fact that his brother was convinced that he needed Bill to die and stay dead, because Ford was too scared of what Bill would do if he didn't. Having more than one of the triangle demons around had just… made things that much worse, probably, because if there were infinite Bills and their circle _maybe_ only worked on _one_ of 'em… yeah. His brother wouldn't handle that well.

"And I don't think giving Ford another weapon is gonna help at all," Stan deadpanned to her. Ford may have said that using that on Bill would kill the triangle demon for good, that he wouldn’t come back after, but Stan was about as sure about _that_ one as he was about the kumbaya circle right now -- which was _not very_. Stan glanced over at Bill again. --Still nothin’. Kid was almost deliberately ignoring him; he had his eyes closed.

Miz continued to think. "What if… I rolled back time on Ford to yesterday morning? Before he found out stuff he doesn't want to know about?" Stan froze. "--NO," Stan told her. " _Absolutely **not** ,_" he said, as soon as his mouth could move again, because the sheer horror that had shot through him at the idea had been--

...Oh, hell. Rolling back time to fix a problem was something the kid had suggested for that planet full of people that morning about the thing with the ‘baby’ time-jerk, and it had sounded like Miz didn't usually do that kind of thing (what with her Time Baby guy apparently being upset if anyone did that). And Stan didn’t think Miz would have even thought of that if Bill hadn’t brought it up earlier -- but Bill had, and now she had, and because the kid had brought it up as a possible solution for a different problem _before_ and he _hadn’t_ disagreed with the kid then, here she was talking about doing it here now. --Shit. He had to be more careful about this stuff. Shut it down _early_. Because if he didn't...

...They were learning from each other. Stan wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Don’t go doing things to my Zodiac without their permission, sis," Bill drawled out easily, like he was discussing the _weather_ and not Stan’s _brother_ , and that just set Stan off.

"-- _I want you **not** to mess with my brother,_" Stan told them both firmly in triangle-speak through a clenched jaw. Rolling back time on his brother… no. He refused to let the demons UNDO his brother, for _any_ reason. Hell, no! His brother was fine the way he was, even if right now he was--

Stan almost flinched in place as Bill immediately sat straight up and swiveled his head towards him. " _WHAT DID YOU SAY?!_ " Bill demanded, wide-eyed and halfway to irate already.

Stan squared his shoulders. " **You heard me** ," Stan said with a quiet intensity, staring the kid down.

Bill’s whole expression just _twitched_. He did that weird head bobbing forward on his neck thing, that wasn’t exactly leaning forward, but sort of looked like it almost.

" _He isn’t your **brother**_ ," Bill said, and as he stared at Stan, realizing that Stan wasn’t giving in or agreeing with him, his voice shifted upwards in tone. " _He **isn’t** ‘your **family’!!**_ "

"Yeah, he is," Stan told him, and he knew right then that this was bad, with the kid trying to meet him more than halfway by using his own definitions of terms like ‘family’ back at him.

"DON’T LIE TO ME," was what the kid said next, and Stan told him firmly, " **I ain’t lying.** "

And now Bill looked like he was about to go incandescent and have a meltdown, and how was this news to the kid _now?_ "--You said he wasn’t family anymore!!" was the thing the kid said next, and… oh. Shit. Oh _shit_. The triangle had seen that; well, of course he had. Except… _Shit!_ \--The kid _didn’t know_. He'd thought Ford _wasn't_ part of his family not to mess with, his line not to cross?! Then _that_ meant-- _**Shit**_.

Stan pulled in a breath. It was harder than it should have been.

"I was fightin’ with him," Stan told the triangle. "He said somethin’; I felt hurt. I never should’ve said that back," Stan told the kid, who looked both startled and blindsided. Miz spoke up quietly, "Humans sometimes say things they don’t mean, lie to each other, because they’re angry…" She sort of understood what Stan was worried about here.

Bill was still tense, angry and confused, looking frustrated.

"--No," Bill said, "You aren’t listening to me--"

"--Kid, _you_ aren’t listening to _me_ ," Stan interrupted him. "Ford -- that Ford downstairs? Is my brother. My family, the way _I_ talk about it. Get it?"

Bill looked at him uneasily.

"If…." Bill began very slowly, looking at Stan. He stopped, then started again. "If your brother wasn’t…"

"--He’s here now, my twin’s not going anywhere, and neither are you," Stan told Bill firmly. "I told you; I’ll make it work." But the kid just sat there, staring at him with no expression on his face.

"...But..." Bill began again. "If he wasn’t here--"

"-- _He’s here_ ," Stan said, starting to get angry with the kid for a hell of a lot more reasons than one, and the kid shut up. (...And it was in that moment that Bill knew: this was going to be a problem later, if he didn’t do something about it to fix things.)

Bill looked at Stan for a long moment.

"...He’s your brother," Bill said, finally. "You decided this."

" _ **Yes**_ ," said Stan, feeling more than a little relief that at least the kid wasn’t gonna keep fighting him on this anymore.

"...You’re not going to change your mind," Bill asked next.

"No, I’m not," Stan confirmed.

Bill was quiet again for a moment.

"...What’s the priority order," Bill said after another long pause.

"Dipper and Mabel, Wendy and Soos, then Melody, all in the agreement," Stan repeated. "Then Ford. He’s still outside of it." Bill was giving him that long look still. (And yeah, the kids needing the demon not physically or mentally attacking his brother for their own mental well-being was one thing -- a set of ‘strings’ of the agreement, sure -- but that didn't completely explain the look Stan was getting from the kid on this, still.) "--It’ll work," Stan repeated to him. "The kids come first. Ford _agrees_ with this. That’s why it’ll work."

"...Fine," said the kid, and Stan blinked, because he’d expected a lot more pushback on that one than the kid just agreeing with him and sounding really grim. (Heck, he’d at least expected the kid to say ‘this is going to cause problems’, or start saying ‘it’s not going to work’ again. Both of which the kid had done before. --Not that Stan was complaining that he wasn't!

"Fine," Stan said. "Good. Yeah." He slowly let out a breath as the kid seemed to be thinking about something while watching him -- but the kid _didn’t_ have that ‘probably going to be changing my mind unless you convince me otherwise soon’ look going on, so, yeah, Stan figured he was probably good for awhile?

Bill finally looked away from him.

Stan let out a heavy sigh, and ran a hand over his face.

"You get enough to eat and drink for lunch, the two of ya?" Stan asked them next. Might as well make sure they don’t go hungry up here, would suck if the kid started screwing up thinking even worse than usual, making bad decisions due to not eating, again.

"I’ll open another box of crackers and eat some," the kid told him, before looking over at Miz and glancing at the bag of fish. When he saw the long pointed look Stanley was giving him, though, the kid got up and walked over to his ‘food corner’ to grab one of said boxes up right then, along with three bottles of water, before walking them back over and sitting back down again.

Stan didn’t miss how Bill passed two of the bottles off to Miz, only keeping one for himself, and Stan only relaxed once Bill had opened the box and started choking down a cracker or two.

"--Is the agreement off?" Bill asked him next, in between crackers while side-eyeing him, and Stan let out a long, drawn-out, and very tired sigh. "No, kid. As much as I want to punch you in the face for messing with my brother… no. You didn’t screw up that badly, yet." As much as it made him sick to say that, Stan had to do it. He wasn’t about to give Bill any excuse to have free reign with the kids -- breaking the agreement himself, or saying Bill had broken the agreement instead of ‘penalizing’ him for it, would do that. Stan didn’t want to sacrifice Ford for the kids’ safety and well-being, but if it really came down to it… Ford would understand. (If his brother was in his right mind, at least. And if not... well...)

(Ford was his brother, but Stan would do what he had to do to protect the kids. And Bill wasn’t the worst thing out there; at least Stan had a handle on him, and at least a little leverage. But when it came to every _other_ demon out there...)

At least the kid was mostly trying to get along. "You got pretty damn close to breakin’ everything," Stan told the kid, "But you didn’t know that I meant Ford was part of the family I didn’t want you messing with," Stan noted out loud to the kid, crossing his arms -- showing the _kid_ that he’d noticed that, really, and would fess up to having noticed it when he did. Because hey, it had been pretty damn obvious that the kid hadn't known, given the kid’s reaction to him saying it outright. (And hell, Stan had avoided really getting into the details of that himself when he’d been first working on coming up with the agreement with him. At the time, he’d thought he’d stolen a march on the kid a little bit before, when the kid had understood and remembered what ‘his line’ was -- _don’t mess with my family_ \-- when the kid had said he ‘could accommodate that’.) The kid not realizing that Stan considered Ford part of his family, though, just by how they all acted towards each other? Was completely…

Stan grimaced. --After all the things they’d talked about by this point now? The kid should’ve realized it. So the kid needed to learn better. So... "You get a major penalty instead."

Miz looked back and forth between them. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get between this (how awkward) so she swallowed another fish. Ah… should she try and change the subject? But this was obviously a major misunderstanding they still needed to finish clearing up?

"You got any questions for me, kid?" Stan asked the kid.

"No, not really," Bill said, not looking at him, focusing more on his cracker eating.

"Then repeat it all back to me," Stan told him, and he caught the kid’s eye roll.

"Priority order’s the same," Bill said, restating it, because he knew Stanley didn’t want it back word-for-word when he asked that; Stanley wanted it in Bill’s own words, instead, to ‘check for translation errors’. "That Stanford is ‘your brother’ and ‘your family’, as verified by you." Bill didn't bother to try to suppress his annoyance at this having been dropped on him out of the blue in this way.

"And messing with him?" Stan prompted the triangle kid.

"Don’t do it unless I want to get punched again, or worse," the kid said almost by rote. "‘Stop’ and ‘no’ apply, strings from Pine Tree and Shooting Star apply -- not that that matters all that much, since you insist that Stanford’s ‘your brother’ and that takes precedence to those strings," the kid put out there, waving a cracker-filled hand haphazard-casually at the air like he was trying to brush away those words as worthless and getting in the way, almost. "‘Not messing with him’ applies -- which means not _trying_ to make anything worse or kill him, and stopping if I think, or you think, it looks like it’s going that way."

Stan clenched his jaw slightly as he watched the kid stop there and continue to eat. That left a lot out of things that Stan really wished he could put in there, but it wasn’t any different than the baseline for the kids. Stan didn't like that all of it fell so short, but he also knew that trying to demand it out of the kid just _wouldn't_ work. Stan knew full well that wanting to do better than that _had_ to come from the kid, or they’d never get anywhere. (And Stan _was_ working on that, it was just… this junk with the other-universe internet blogs hadn’t helped as much as Stan had thought it might at first, so he needed to keep on the lookout for something else that would. He just needed a reason he could hand Bill -- or dangle out in front of him -- it was the easiest way to get buy-in from the kid. But it _took time_ to do this junk; it had barely been a _month_...)

So for all of these reasons, Stan said, "Fine," and left it at that. ...Or, at least, Stan tried to. Except the kid opened up the whole damn can of worms again by flicking his eyes up towards him and saying, "...Is it?" And when Stan glared down at him, the kid lifted his head to look at him dead-on and _followed it up_ with, "Is it, really?"

Stan clenched his jaw.

"No," Stan said. "It ain’t fine. But I’ll take what I can get." The way the kid’s eyes lit up, glittering hard in those fairy-light ball things around them, wasn’t good, but Stan wasn’t about to start lying to the kid's face now. He’d made that promise about the learning, about ‘schooling’ the kid (and oh boy was he ever!), and Stan was damn well _not_ gonna screw anything up by not keeping it, now. "It’s fine, but it ain’t fine," Stan repeated, because he knew _that_ one from the kid -- that wasn’t a contradiction, that was ‘there’s more to this than just a couple of words that you ain’t getting the whole picture of like this’.

It was the first time Stan had tossed that particular one of the kid’s techniques right back at him, and it left Bill blinking.

"...Fair enough," said Bill easily, his expression going a little smooth, and then the kid turned back to his box of crackers and continued his eating.

Damn, but this ‘mostly an adult’ shit from the kid was gonna be the death of him one of these days, Stan was pretty sure. Stan sat back and let out a breath, looking away from the kid as he tried to work his shoulders a little bit to get the tension out of them.

"So… um…" Miz mumbled, feeling a little less stressed herself, now that this misunderstanding between her big brother and Stan seemed to finally be over. She turned to Bill. "Ok… oh! Right, I just thought of something." Stan blinked at how Miz seemed to jump from tense and worried to bright and happy so rapidly back and forth. "I could have most of myself in my energy form inside the Nightmare Realm while the other fragment of myself is out and about inside a vessel! Since my problem is overloading my vessels until they explode, if I send all the excess energy back to my energy self inside the Nightmare Realm, I won't have to worry about that anymore!"

Stan blinked, then realized that this must’ve been from some other conversation the two triangle demons must’ve been having earlier, that he was coming in on halfway. (Maybe when they’d been out on the lake?)

Bill grinned at her. "Look at you! Finding solutions!" He ruffled her hair as she preened under his praise. "--Though I would do that the other way around," Bill added, wanting to be thorough. The way she'd described it… "Leaving the small piece of yourself in your 'Nightmare Realm’ instead, that you could self-destruct or pull back at need, means no getting trapped in there, ever," Bill told her, mindful of the potential of someone trying to trap her there, like he'd been trapped in his own decaying dimension here. Miz grinned. "That’s another good point. Also! Now I won't have to-- ah…" She paused and glanced over at Stan, then to the old man's surprise, she moved her gaze onto Bill as well. She frowned in thought. "This would be one of those ‘upsetting to other people’ things, right?" She asked.

Bill pressed his lips together before responding. "Splitting yourself… maybe? Depends on how you explain it, and if people think either piece of you is or could get stuck someplace or not, and what would happen if it did. Consciousness-splitting is disturbing," he told her, thinking of Seb. Bill was fairly sure that Miz wasn’t talking about making actual ‘copies’ of herself when she’d said what she had, though, and as long as anything she left in her ‘Nightmare Realm’ could be left to drain out and ‘die’ without any issue -- part of what they’d discussed earlier -- then that was fine. (He didn’t want to think of the stupid lizard maybe trying to lock her in there on a whim, since hers apparently _DID THINGS_ sometimes.)

Bill tilted his head. "If you were about to talk about your past methods of _dealing_ with excessive energy… then, yes." Bill looked at Stan before glancing back at Miz. "Self-harm is upsetting to humans," Bill said firmly. Stan blinked. Oh, shit. So that junk Bill had asked him a couple days ago _had_ been something to do with her? Stan looked over at Miz, to see her wilt in place, and Stan's eyebrows shot up. Well… fuck. There was his confirmation for something he’d been suspecting since this a while back. --When a frowning Bill had come to him with questions about ‘what it meant when humans damage and bleed themselves to feel better’, Stan knew that had had to come from somewhere. It wasn’t the kind of question the kid would come up with on his own.

"It's not like I cut myself." Miz mumbled. "Just… hitting myself and… stuff…"

"Until you bleed. You mentioned tearing yourself open and bleeding out until you ‘felt better’," Bill said slowly, and Stan felt a chill go down his spine as Miz looked down at her hands in her lap. "Well I have a better way of relieving the pressure now…" she shrugged, "And it's not like I wouldn't have healed any damage I sustain."

"That ain't the point kid." Stan ground out. Shit. Even Bill hadn’t argued with him (much) about this one, when he’d told the kid that hurting or damaging himself -- sticking forks in himself, tossing himself down the stairs, _whatever_ \-- was attacking himself, a member of the agreement, and Stan would have to step in to stop him from doing it to himself because of the agreement. "If you were human, shouldn't you know better?" Stan asked her, though Stan was beginning to get the feeling that this kid really hadn’t been all there, even as a human. His suspicions were confirmed when she refused to look at him. "...did it when I was human too ...but for different reasons…" she told him, and she couldn’t look at him as she said it, gripping her arm and sounding… _tired_. Hell.

Stan grimaced, and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Kid," he said, "You, uh, you need help or somethin’." Then he winced and had to follow that up with, "I ain’t so sure I can help you with that," for Bill’s benefit, because it wasn’t like he didn’t want to help the kid with his kid sister exactly, he just… was not the guy who could talk somebody down from suicide. "But that ain’t right."

"I dunno. I just deal with it," she murmured.

"That ain’t dealing _or_ any kind of handling," Stan told her adamantly in tones of gravel. Miz shrugged. "It’s not like I can die from this." Which just made Stan wonder if she’d actually tried to... to… _Shit._

Stan looked at Bill. Stan pulled in a breath.

"Kid," he said, "I gotta ask some things now that are maybe gonna sound real bad to you, but they’re human-things, okay? You think I need to stop, you tell me, but you’d better think real hard about it, first. I ain’t trying to hurt her," he told the kid, "I’m gonna be trying to get her to maybe think about stopping hurting herself."

Bill looked very uncomfortable, and gave Stan a long look for almost a minute. But then Bill looked away for a moment and nodded.

Stan pulled in a breath. "Okay. Miz," he said, "If you could die and stay dead, would you?" he asked, and he forced himself not to flinch when Bill sat bolt upright, looking like he wanted to reach forward and tear him limb from limb. (The fact that he didn’t? Meant the kid was keeping it together though. Stan knew that, because the kid could _do_ that to him from across the room, up here, with magic, same as he'd be able to outside the barrier, but the demon hadn't. So.)

Miz looked a little uncomfortable but responded anyway, "...there was a time when I wanted that… but I’ve been doing better now. Ever since I met my friends. Because they make me feel like I have something to look forward to." She pulled her legs up to her chest. "So I don’t want to lose them. No matter what. Even if it means keeping them with me forever."

Stan saw Bill clench his hands in his lap, but his posture and expression didn’t change. ...That wasn’t good. That meant the kid had known about this already; what his kid sister had said just now hadn’t been a surprise. Stan looked up at Bill, and held his gaze. He was starting to see why the kid had thought about the ‘they could kill themselves to get away from you’ thing had been a thing, and why the kid had sounded a little… _off_ when he’d said it. If Miz lost them, then...

Oh. Hell. --Okay, yeah. Stan suddenly started to get it.

" _Bill_ ," Stan said, and Bill jolted in place just a bit. "You ever want to kill yourself?"

"No," said Bill. Stan nodded. "Ever want to try?" " _NO_ ," said Bill, shaking his head. "Planning on ever dying and staying dead?" Bill glared at him. " **NEVER.** " Stan nodded. "Right, Good. --Miz," Stan said. "You think you’re ever gonna lose your big brother here?" he asked her.

Miz looked over. "I don’t know." She said quietly. "I don’t want to lose him, though." She stared at Bill with wide eyes

"--You won’t lose me," Bill told her, looking down at her. "I’m not going _anywhere_." He put a hand on top of her head and leaned down, nearly touching his forehead against hers. "Are _you?_ " he asked her. "Are _you_ going to leave me alone?"

Miz took a deep breath and smiled. "I don’t want to leave you alone. I want to stay as long as you’ll let me." Because she could recognize that Bill was lonely. Just as lonely as she had been. She didn’t mind staying until he wasn’t lonely anymore. Time in her own world was on pause after all. Her friends were safe.

"I’ll let you **forever** ," Bill told her boldly, and without reservation, with a smile. And Stan saw him shiver slightly in place. "Forever and a day, and forever again, as many times as I can have you stay with me. Always." Because Bill considered himself a realist. He knew that he couldn’t always keep her with him, and that she would need to leave sometimes. He knew that, just as he knew that he couldn’t always go everyplace with her, either. That was just… how things were, when people weren't trapped-forever. (He’d left the house sometimes to get books for Liam, and to learn how to work in the store…) But whenever he _could_ have her presence with him, Bill wanted it. He’d want it even when he didn’t have it, but he would try not to be jealous about it. Big brothers weren’t supposed to jail their little sisters just to keep them close to them, he was pretty sure, and even if they were… then he’d just have to break that rule, because he didn’t want her restricted like that when she could be free instead.

Stan let out a quiet breath. He’d thought the kid was being too fast with the whole ‘little sister’ thing. _Now_ he was starting to think that maybe _the kid_ had thought that he’d already almost been too _slow_. Giving her somebody who wouldn’t leave her all alone, and maybe wanting to die again… shit.

"Still think you should talk to somebody," Stan said to Miz. "Ripping yourself apart ain’t supposed to feel good. ...Dunno where we’re gonna find somebody who specializes in triangle demons, though." Stan was pretty sure that different headshrinks for different people was a thing.

"I… had considered finding some kinda therapist or something… but they don’t really exist out in my Multiverse. They got Mind-Healers instead. And I’m not gonna let someone inside my Mind to move things around to… ‘fix me’ the way they think is correct." She shivered. "So I mainly just talk to Ax or Jessie about how I’m feeling. It… helps a little. Even if they don’t have anything to say back to me."

"Yeah, uh…" Stan glanced at Bill, who looked grim. "Letting someone else poke around inside your brain or whatever sounds kinda…"

"--Wrong," said Bill. "It is wrong. YOU choose what is correct. Other people do NOT get to make that choice FOR you."

Stan side-eyed Bill. "This ain’t one of those ‘pot kettle black’ things, is it?" Stan pointed out, and Bill straightened up in place and turned his head towards him. "No," said Bill. "Everything I did to ‘ _your brother_ ’," Bill drawled out in an odd tone of voice, "I got permission from him to do to him first. Boundaries of the Mind are a thing. So is consent." And for some reason, Bill looked almost offended that Stan had thought otherwise. ...And _how_ exactly was this a thing?

Stan narrowed his eyes at the kid, frowning. "You go into… _used to_ go into people’s dreams all the time," he pointed out, crossing his arms. Bill looked vaguely frustrated with him at that, giving him his ‘you’ve been talking to that idiot Stanford and getting wrong information from him’ look. (Yeah, whatever. Like the kid didn't get stuff wrong all the time.) "The ‘personal Dreamscape’ isn’t part of a person’s Mind, exactly," Bill told him. "It’s separate. Separated? -- _Separable,_ " Bill finally settled on. "The loss of it won’t destroy a person; it’s a shared space. Like… hair," Bill told him, gesturing at his own, referring back to how Stanley had cut it for him several weeks ago, now. "Only not-hair," the kid said, the same way the triangle demon always ended every analogy he tried to use.

"Dreamscapes are connected but not ACTUALLY their Mindscape. Like… the front lawn as opposed to inside their house?" Miz pointed out. "That’s how it is with me and the Dreams I’ve been inside at least." She hummed. "So, like… I can mess with their lawn, dig up stuff or plant flowers or add a swimming pool, but it doesn’t affect the inside of their house." She wondered if that metaphor made sense.

"--Not directly," Bill elaborated upon. "It doesn’t affect them… the ‘inside of their house’... _directly_. THEY decide how they want to react to it. It’s indirect! --If you look out the window and stare at the sun with your eyes open, do you close your eyes and look away? Or blink and blink and scream about how you’re blind now as you keep on staring?"

"--or put those flamingo lawn ornaments everywhere. For some reason, a lot of people freak out when I do that…" Miz mumbled. "And then they come out of their house and they can take things to bring them inside. Or water the new flower bed they have. Or just ignore my changes."

"--Or take a chainsaw to it!!" Bill enthused, grinning. "That Stanford used to do that all the time!" Miz scoffed. "How rude." "--I know, right!" Bill huffed out, crossing his arms. "I even made things brown. He _likes_ brown! ...And he _NEVER_ liked ANY of the crocodiles I put in," Bill all but pouted. " _Or_ the moat!"

Stan clenched hid jaw. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to stand up, walk over, and smack the kid upside the head, or just run a hand across his face and then get up and go downstairs to do the same thing to his brother. (...Yeah, no. that was a lie. Stan was pretty sure he wanted to do both.)

" _Why_ would my brother need a moat with crocodiles inside his head, Dreamscape, thing, --whatever?" Stan asked of the demonic triangle. And in response to this, Bill turned his head towards him and said simply, "To keep everybody else out."

Stan stared. Then he rubbed a hand across his eyes under his glasses. --Right. Sure. _Of course_ the triangle demon hadn’t wanted to share ‘his friend Ford’ with anyone else who might be able to get into Ford’s head when the deal had been on. Of course he hadn’t.

"Protection." Miz blinked. "To keep other people out?" She tilted her head. "That’s a good defense really." Big brother was so thoughtful.

"Especially if you refuse to allow any more floating, because you turned up the gravity," Bill said. Then he got a sly smirk. "Like there’s only one way to keep ‘floating’, HA!" he added, then got a grin.

(Definitely. Stan _definitely_ wanted to smack both these two idiots upside the head. But _especially_ the triangle right now. Bill was definitely in the lead on the number of times Stan wanted to smack him upside the head right now, over Ford. Stan was keeping score. --It was one of the few things that helped keep him from actually hauling off and doing it, thinking about stuff like that. Keeping score. ...And, y'know, thinking up penalties for when the kid tripped up badly enough. Not like he had to make any of 'em _nice_ to be keepin’ the agreement going, just… y'know, _educational_. And about as damn annoying as he could make 'em, so the kid wouldn't do those stupid things again. Wasn't half if what he wanted to haul off and do to the demon, sometimes, but... Yeah. Wouldn't do any good to just hit him again; not like that had worked the last time. Stan would take what he could get.)

"Right, yeah. --Maybe you wanna knock on the door next time and _ask_ if he really _wants_ that moat?" Stan told them both, letting out a breath of annoyance and anger. "Or maybe something else?" Then Stan winced internally, just realizing how the kid would hear what he'd just said. "--I mean, for anybody else, not him. Don’t go inside Ford’s head or his Dreamscape-whatever for _anything_ without permission. From him. _Again_ ," Stan added for good measure. He didn’t want Bill counting the original deal as a workaround for that one, or any later deals he might make with _anyone else_ \-- because according to Dipper, apparently _that_ was a thing?

Miz nodded. "I still reserve the right to plant gnomes all around the premises, staring at the house, for mean people though." She huffed. "They’re jerks." The creepy, foreboding nightmares were her favorite. So much better than just the blood and violence stuff, that was just lazy.

"Whatever you wanna do in your own chunks of dimensions or whatever, to people back home? I ain’t stopping you," Stan told her staunchly. "Here? I want you two sticking by the agreement. ‘Stop’ and ‘no’ and _permission_ when you aren’t in the middle of a fight." Not like he’d know what they’d ever get up to anyplace else, anyway, unless they brought the fight back home here. "As long as you’re the only ones doing the door thing, and trouble don’t end up coming our way here? I don’t care." And he really didn’t. Wasn’t his callout. He’d keep on saving his battles for the stuff that actually mattered, thanks.

Miz nodded. "Ok," she agreed. It’s not like she was planning to mess with people’s dreams while she was a guest here… aside from that Cooking show that she and Seb had made… er… should she tell Stan about that?

Bill shrugged. "Fine."

Stan let out a breath. Damn, but he hadn’t realized the kid actually thought permission was a thing, let alone boundaries and consent. ...Then again, guess the kid would need to know what they were in order to cross those lines and break them, like he talked about breaking rules, deliberately. --Then _again_...

"--We’re gonna talk about the definitions for ‘boundaries’, ‘consent’, and ‘permission’ later," Stan said flat-out, groaning a bit as he stood up. "I need to get back downstairs before Ford tries to come up here lookin’ for me." Because that was a thing. Ford wasn’t exactly more _clingy_ than usual right now, but he definitely noticed each and every time that Stan left the room, when he left it. (Ever since Ford’s ‘crack up’ in the woods, Stan always heard Ford not so quietly ask one of the kids where he was going, or what he was doing, every time he left the room.) He turned towards the staircase, then stopped. "You two good with staying up here until dinner?" Stan figured he could find an excuse to shoo Ford out of the kitchen for an hour or two to bring the demon kids downstairs; having no mealtimes in the actual kitchen was too much like house arrest, even if the two demon kids were okay at sneaking out during the day whenever they needed to, instead of actually being stuck up in the attic all day.

"I’ve got 4 seasons of Digimon saved up here--" Miz pointed at her head "--and we will take snack breaks every 5 episodes."

"I have a better idea," said Bill. Both of them turned towards him, for very different reasons, and with very different looks on their faces. "Miz, you like music. Yes?" Bill asked. Miz lit up. "I love music!!" she squealed.

"--Not in the house," Stan said staunchly. "Ford will hear you downstairs."

"Not in the house," Bill said. "Over by the cemetery."

Stan frowned slightly. Then he nodded. "Alright. --Sneak out up here, and sneak back in up here, but expect I’m gonna come up to bring you down to eat downstairs, later. Yeah?"

Bill gave him a long look that Stan couldn’t quite read _every_ last bit of, but Bill nodded.

Stan sighed; not like he hadn't gotten most of the picture. "Not an order, kid," Stan said. "Just less risky to have you go out up here then tryin’ to use some weird science thing to sneak down the stairs and through the middle of the house, openin’ and closing doors. --Not the kind of challenge I want you to try and do right now, yeah?" Stan told him. Then he got an idea and added, "Besides, Ford don’t know you’re here right now. Kinda a bigger challenge to do it after he’s feeling better, and looking for you to try and catch you at it, yeah?" Stan said, not quite teasing the idea as a compromise; he had a feeling that Ford might actually be up for something like that, later. (Hell, might give the two of 'em something to try and beat each other at that maybe didn't involve shooting and punching each other even, just a lot of sneaking and watching instead. Something like that oughta be right up the kid's alley, and keep Ford out of too much trouble, too. ...Maybe get Melody to referee the damn thing?)

Bill tilted his head at him and gave him an almost thoughtful look.

"We’ll sneak out now, outside the house," Bill confirmed. Stan felt mildly smug that the kid had went with it, despite clearly knowing that Stan had been playing him.

"Good," said Stan. And with that all squared away, he walked back downstairs. He had a lot to think about.

\---

Sneaking out was a little smoother this time. Bill was more comfortable with Miz holding onto him, this time. She'd also gotten better at using her powers inside the bubble the cuffs made for her. The girl was practically floating, holding onto the back of Bill's shirt as he climbed down. In fact, she would float away if she let go. Her weight went back to normal once they got close enough to the ground that she could drop down safely.

Bill gestured her to the outhouse again, and they went over so he could pick up his usual lantern-rod. Miz was starting to suspect it was his walking staff, or second security blanket, or something, because he seemed to relax a lot more once he had it in his hands, every time so far that they'd talked about going out farther than the clearing around the Shack.

Then again, since Bill was here, anchored down without being able to use most of his powers... having something that could give him comfort was only to be expected. Miz's hands twitched. Ah. She wanted her dolls. A part of her missed cuddling with Xanthar. But she didn't want to leave. Not just because she wasn't sure if it was safe yet, but because Bill might need her. Or at least, she felt so. May have been projecting but she didn't feel this was a bad thing in this case. She wondered if she could make a little stuffed doll of Xanthar later. Little dolls of her friends would help ease some of the 'missing them' feelings.

Bill tilted his head at her a bit, catching the twitch of her hands. He'd used to do that when he was younger, still try to grab at things from the Mindscape, even though he knew he couldn't. (He'd broken the habit early, but it _had_ been a very hard habit to break. ...Sometimes, in very bad times, he still forgot and had to catch himself, now and again.) He wondered if he should ask...?

She was pulling her headband off and rubbing her head. Her Eye blinked a few times and she Looked around. Oh, the cemetery was... there, and... She snorted. Robbie's parents were shoving the dead back in their graves again. Huh... reanimated dead were so... gross. All icky and rotting and probably tasted awful. And now she was cursing her default of wondering what anything tastes like. Ew. Undead. How gross.

"Now, this is _very important_ ," Bill stressed, as he turned and started walking -- not flying, actually walking, carrying his lantern rod up against his shoulder -- down the road and towards the town. Miz gave Bill her full attention, like a good girl. "We are NOT going into town," he told her quite seriously. "If anyone asks -- _ESPECIALLY_ Stanley -- we are _only_ walking down the road and going to the _cemetery_ , which is _not_ the town. It is the _cemetery_ ," Bill said firmly. "They are two totally different things. People live in town. The dead don't-live in the cemetery. _Very_ important not to get those two confused." Bill looked at Miz expectantly.

Miz nodded. "Not town. Cemetery. Got it." She paused. "The Valentinos are there right now. Latest undead rising. Do we avoid them?"

Bill's shoulders dropped a bit. "What, _again?_ " he said irritably. "Thought I taught them some proper manners last time," he grumbled out, turning away from her, eyes narrowing. " _Clearly_ I did not hit them enough, the rude grabby little undead things." The last time he'd been there and laid down on the grass to stare up at the sky, he'd gotten grabbed quite a bit... and then found out after the fact (and a lot of screaming, yelling, and stomping things down) that apparently this was the norm these days. --Well, it wasn't going to be after _HE_ got through with the place! "Manners are a thing, you know!" Bill exclaimed broadly, straightening up a bit as they walked.

Miz nodded before she shuddered. "Ew... they're all slimy..." She hated the undead. They just... rubbed her the wrong way. She hated walking corpses, so twisted and awful to Look at. "Yes, slimy," Bill noted. "Stomping works best, but so do..." he gestured at his rather long lantern-rod, "...other things." Miz nodded. Long weapons, keep those icky things away from yourself.

It didn't take them long to walk up to the short wall at the base of the cemetery. They came to a stop for a moment, and Bill frowned up the hill at all the gravestones, and all the unruly undead trying to stick arms and legs out of the ground and wave them around.

"Stitched-Heart and his parents shouldn't cause you much trouble emotions-wise," Bill told her, by his estimation of what he knew about most empaths. "So it's your choice, on or off," he told her, gesturing at the headband. Miz left it off. She wanted the warning in case any of the gross things in the ground tried to reach for her.

Bill nodded. "I'll only be a minute or twelve," he told her. "Wait here." (His little sister CLEARLY did NOT like the idea of mixing it up with any undead herself, so Bill wasn’t about to force her. He would take care of this for her instead!) And with that said (and thought), Bill made the short hop over the short stone fence and started stomping up the hill, slamming the bottom of his lantern-rod into the ground like an actual walking stick as he went, while yelling out, "ALL RIGHT, YOU IDIOT-UNDEAD!! _CLEARLY_ YOU DID NOT LEARN YOUR LESSON THE _LAST_ TIME! -- _ **SO PREPARE FOR MORE STOMPING!!!**_ "

Some of the hands and arms started pulling back a bit, but most of them just waved around more. --Bill attacked those ones with the S-hook of his lantern-rod first, slamming them into the ground. "DOWN! SHOO! DOWN-DOWN-DOWN! -- _I_ DIDN'T TELL YOU IDIOTS TO COME UP, SO _GO DOWN!!!_ "

"Hello, Bill!" Stitched-Heart's mother called out to Bill. (Bill mostly ignored her, opting instead to yell "RRRRAAAH!!" out loud at the top of his lungs and stomp a different arm into the ground next to him with a foot.)

Miz peered over the fence as her brother went to town on the maggot-filled creatures. She shuddered. Gross. She tilted her head as she felt the energy in the area, seeping into the ground and sparking the bodies in the ground until they could move. Ugh. Why wasn't anyone regulating this shit?

"RAH! RAHR! RRAH!" Bill went, and it took him about ten minutes until every last one of the undead on the hill were pretty much all underground again, and Bill was panting and leaning on (read: practically hanging off of) his lantern-rod at the top of the hill.

Finally, after Bill had caught his breath back again, he straightened up a bit, turned around, and called out, " _You can come come on up now! They should mostly behave themselves now--_ " Bill glared and yelled down at the ground, "-- ** _OR ELSE!!!_** "

Miz climbed over the fence. "Shouldn't someone set up a ward to make this stop happening?" she asked, as she picked her way among the gravestones, wary of the loose dirt and holes. "Eh," said Bill, shrugging. He thought a lively cemetery like this one was better than the dead one he'd basically been living in for one trillion years. (He hadn't even had any gravestones there, or corpses that had survived the fire as even so much ash, or _anything_.) "They make good guard-dogs? Guard-zombies? ...Early-warning system? --They just need a little _training_ , is all," Bill told her practically, looking down at the ground with another not-quite a glare this time.

"I guess..." Miz squinted at the dirt where she could feel one of them trembling as she walked past. Mrs. Valentino came over with a wide smile. "Hello Bill-dear. Thanks for the help. Who's this sweetie?" She smiled down at Miz, open and friendly. Miz blinked. Oh. This was quite a pleasant (if too sweet) taste.

For a moment, from Bill's expression, he looked like he could go either one of two ways -- completely-fake and cuttingly-rude 'politeness', or how he really felt.

Bill went with the latter. "My sister," he told the human woman in short, almost clipped words. He didn't look well-pleased to be having Stitched-Heart's mother speak to him, or to be speaking to her.

"Oh. It's very nice you meet you sweetie," Mrs. Valentino didn't even hesitate. Miz looked up and gave the woman a shy smile. "Hello ma'am. I'm Miz," she said. "Oh you're so cute. I'm Janice, and this is Greg, my husband," Mrs. Valentino said, introducing them. "Are you going on a walk with your brother?" Mrs. Valentino asked.

"I am here to join Stitched-Heart's band," Bill told them straight-out. "We are going to be auditioning using your piano in the wake room." Miz looked over at him. It seemed a little odd, how he was talking to Mrs. Valentino. He wasn't smiling, or grinning, or anything. He was mostly... not neutral-faced, exactly. He literally had no expression on his face. And he wasn't being enthusiastic or cheerful or excitable like she was used to seeing him get about things like music.

Miz blinked. Was Bill shy? She wasn't quite sure what this taste was.

Wait.

"We're joining Stitched-Heart's band?" she asked Bill. Huh. That... might be kinda cool? It would be an interesting experience at least.

"Oh, that sounds just peachy-keen!" Mr. Valentino said, walking up to them, to wrap his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Go on in, Robbie should be up in his room practicing," he told them, giving them both a smile. "I'll make cookies!" was Mrs. Valentino's contribution to the 'good news'. "What kind would you two like?"

Miz lit up. "Cookies?" She seemed to bounce in place. "Shortbread? Or... or almond cookies?" Mrs. Valentino gave her a happy laugh. "Of course! Haven't made either of those in awhile." Mr. Valentino glanced over at her, looking happily interested, and said, "Hm, why don't you take the shortbread, and I'll help make the almond ones, dear?" He got a light slap on the arm from his wife for his trouble. "Oh, you! You know if you make the almond ones, you'll eat them all yourself," she teased. "I'll make those, don't you worry, sweetie," she told Miz with an upbeat smile.

Bill didn't comment on any of this, he just turned away and started walking back down the hill, headed for the house. He glanced to Miz and slowed down as he walked by her. Miz followed him. As soon as they got out of earshot, Miz brought up, "They're... very happy people."

Bill grimaced slightly. "Yes," he said. Miz paused and thought about it. "Is it... normal?" It didn't feel like it could be normal for people to be so _pleasant_.

Bill barely kept back a snarl. "There is no normal," he repeated. "But." He had to fight to keep back another snarl. (Maybe he really was down in his stupid human-ish body too far, even though Stanley _still_ said that he wasn't down far _enough_...) "They live off of people dying, and they are _happy_ about that." His lips started to curl up in almost a sneer. "When people stop staying dead--" Bill stopped himself and pulled in a breath. (Calm, calm, and all tamped down. While his little sister had her headband off…) "They _should_ hate me," he told Miz. "More than that Stanford does." Bill was dead-set on destroying anything resembling their current state of life and living. And yet they treated him 'nicely'?? --He'd even _stopped time_ during Weirdmageddon, so no-one could age, and not one single solitary human had died at the hands of himself or his Henchmaniac demons. (Even that stupid time squad had only been a bunch of holo-projections that he'd fritzed out.) They were _all_ HIS. NO-ONE got to die without his say-so! -- _Why_ didn't they _understand_ that?!

Miz tilted her head. Never thought about that. Then again, they probably _had_ to stay happy to keep from getting depressed about their jobs? Or maybe they were just as insane as anyone else in this world.

The two demons approached the house, and Bill didn’t even stop walking as he not quite slammed the base of his lantern-rod into the ground twice and muttered out two words that matched a set of mandala images he drew up his head quickly. The double-doors to the wake room -- on the side of the house -- unlocked and then swung open in response to Bill’s magical commands.

They both walked right on in. The piano was off to the side, near the front of the room.

Bill walked directly up to it, flipped up the keyboard guard, and set his lantern-rod against the side of it. He quickly played up the scale, low-to-high, from the lowest note to highest scale in a rapid two-handed test of the timbre and pitch of the instrument. He looked almost disgusted when he was done.

"Perfectly tuned -- as far as I can tell in THIS stupid thing, anyway," he added at the end, gesturing to his head (ears) and body in general. He felt almost offended that a pair of people who lived off of the death of others actually had the audacity to keep a piano like this in proper shape for people like him to be able to use. It annoyed Bill to no end that he couldn't find any fault in their treatment of it.

Miz hummed, looking around. The Valentino couple kept this place neat, clean and spotless. They really cared about their job, morbid as it was. She wondered if that was why Robbie had ended up the way he did. What would it do to a kid to grow up like that?

Bill hooked a foot around one of the piano bench legs and dragged it out of the way, so that he could stand right in front of it and play standing up. Then he seemed to hesitate and change his mind, dragging it back again to sit down on top of it.

Bill tapped his foot against the ground, then pushed himself forward to the edge of the bench and began to play at a quite fervent and loud fortissimo... [Bach's _Toccata and Fugue in D minor_](https://youtu.be/o3aI7Oo3GMo).

He let himself get into it, starting to smile. (He was looking forward to seeing Stitched-Heart's face when the music drove him out of his room to see what all the 'horror music' racket was about here downstairs, loud enough that was almost certainly going to interrupt _any_ quieter practicing that Stitched Heart might be trying to do with his own guitar upstairs. --Sound, in Bill's experience, _traveled_.) Miz sat down on the bench beside Bill and enjoyed the music. It was lovely. Dramatic. Very much Bill's style. (‘I should ask if he knows any songs from Phantom of the Opera,’ Miz thought. She could give him the music sheets for it, if not.)

By the time Bill was done with the _Fugue_ , he was grinning, and he didn't stop. He moved right on into the next piece, one that was very thematically similar -- the [_Overture_ from Phantom of the Opera](https://youtu.be/aHozAriewD4).

Miz blinked. Oh! Bill knew it already. She grinned. Oh, she couldn't wait to sing along, even if this wasn't the vocal version of it. The tune was still there after all. She opened her mouth. _"Ahhh~ahhh~ahh~ahh~ahhh~"_

Only a few more minutes into the song, there was a sound of stomping feet, and one of the side doors to the room swung open like it had been kicked open. "-- _ **Dude!**_ " Robbie exclaimed, looking kind of mad, but also very uncomfortable -- it was pretty clear that he knew it was pretty dangerous to risk getting Bill mad at him.

_"In sleep he sang to me~in dreams he came~"_ Miz sang, eyes closed as she let the music wash over her. _"That voice which calls to me~and speaks my name~"_

When Miz started to sing, Bill continued the phrase, but pulled back greatly, so that he wasn't overwhelming her voice.

Robbie looked a little taken aback. He stared at the little girl kicking her legs as they dangled off the ground, sitting on the end of the piano bench. _"And do I dreeeeeam again~For now I fiiiiiiind~the Phaaaa~tom of the Opera is there~inside my mind~"_

Bill quieted the piano further, then let it trail off into silence.

"Your parents are baking shortbread and almond cookies," he informed Stitched-Heart.

"Ugh," said Robbie. He still looked really uncomfortable. " _Why_ are you _here?_ " Last time, they'd run into each other up in the cemetery, on top of the hill, not in his _house!_ This was _not_ cool!

"I'm auditioning for your band," Bill told him, sitting back on the bench beside Miz. "And my little sister wanted to sing." Miz looked over and waved. "Hello mister Stitch-heart~"

" _Stitched_ -Heart," Bill corrected absently.

"Dude, my name is _Robbie_ ," he repeated, shoving his hands in his hoodie. "Don't go telling people your crazy nickname-thing for... wait." Robbie stared at him, then at Miz. "...You have a sister?"

"Yes," said Bill. "--Since when!?" complained Robbie, 'cause why did nobody ever tell him anything, huh? They all talked to each _other_ , but did anybody think about going off and warning _him_ when Bill was coming over?

"... since I came into this world and we agreed on it?" Miz tilted her head. She didn't see why he was so surprised. His parents had accepted it easily.

"Two days ago," Bill added agreeably. This was day three of his having a little sister!

"Dude, you can't do that. That's not how sisters work," Robbie complained. At least, he was pretty sure it didn't. Jumping through crazy holes in the sky to get here shouldn't count as becoming a sister! "Wait." There hadn't been another apocalypse-thing. Did demons have parents? Two-day-old demons didn't look like teenagers, did they? "Is this some crazy messed-up demon thing?"

Bill looked at Miz, and Miz looked at Bill. Then they both looked back at Robbie. "Yes?" they both told him at the same time, with eerily similar expressions on their faces. Robbie groaned and dropped down, to sit -- well, sort of collapse -- against one of the pew-like benches in the first row at the front of the room. Why did Bill keep _coming_ here, anyway? The demon was supposed to be staying with the dumb Pines. He didn't sign up for this! "--We're _not_ holding any auditions for my band," Robbie told him.

"I don't care," Bill told him. "I like playing the piano, Miz likes singing, and we're going to make music anyway." Bill also liked singing, but he wasn't going to take that away from her. This was supposed to be fun! (Besides, his voice was really terrible right now. His range was stuck at 'human', which was almost-nothing compared to what he'd _used_ to be able to do.)

Miz looked over. "I know some duet songs, if you want?" Singing together was always more fun. She had many fond memories of Hamilton-ing with her sister and human friends.

"Don't tempt me," Bill said. He really, _really_ liked singing too, but... "I'll sound bad to you." She had her All-Seeing Eye open. He'd just embarrass himself.

"It's not about sounding good. It's about sounding bad _together_!" Miz insisted. Bill eyed her sideways. "And yes, I know that's a Shooting Star quote, but I agree with it." Miz kicked her legs.

Bill looked down at the keys in front of him. "...I've never tried to play in a human body like this _and_ sing at the same time," he said, almost uncertainly. His body had already proven itself to be 'defective' in a few ways that left him tired too easily, in his opinion, and unable to concentrate on _nearly_ as many things as he was used to being able to 'juggle' at a time. (He still concentrated on one thing at a time, always, but he could switch and choose between them with ease. ...Or he'd _used_ to be able to.) Miz scooted over to press their arms together. "If you never 'try', you'll never 'do'."

"...Ah. Practice in front of an audience." Bill grimaced slightly, but he also had a slight smile going.

Then he glanced up at Stitched-Heart.

"Dude," Robbie said, "I'm not gonna tell anyone."

"...Or laugh," said Bill suspiciously. "--Hey, not unless I want my head bitten off, and I like it where it is!" Robbie grumbled. Miz rolled her eyes, "Heads don't taste good anyway," she muttered. Luckily, Robbie didn't hear her, and wasn't real inclined to ask what the heck Bill's "sister" had just muttered at him(?!) -- not with Bill Cipher sitting _right there_ in front of him, too.

Bill half-shifted, half-bobbed from side-to-side where he sat.

"--I should do another thing first," Bill said, almost abruptly. He glanced up at Robbie and said, holding his gaze, " _It's _not_ the same._"

Robbie made a face, remembering their sort-of argument from a couple days ago. (Bill didn't care about the face Stitched-Heart made at him now. He was right, and he was out to prove a point. His Zodiac member would see...)

Bill stood up, closed his eyes, and pulled up a memory of his of what he wanted to show them -- he knew how Miz did it; this was similar. He drew it all up in his mind, and... offloaded a copy of it, like a self-contained recording, as he murmured out the spell to cast it. (That way, he could just let it ‘run’ while he focused on everything-else he needed-and-wanted to do himself during it.)

An almost-ghostly image of an older, smiling woman sprung up into being by the side of the piano. It was full-color, but slightly see-through. And there was the sound of footsteps as she walked forward, holding a microphone.

"Let me introduce to you, the Goddess of Music, Ms. Vera Lynn!" Bill proclaimed with a half-bow and a marked sense of (seemingly uncharacteristic) respect.

And then he sat down and [started to play](https://youtu.be/cHcunREYzNY).

And the woman swayed back and forth a bit, smiling a bit more and obviously getting into the beat. Background sounds of other instruments -- accompaniment to the piano part being played by Bill -- filled the air. And then the woman began to sing. Miz swayed to the music with a wide smile.

Bill was careful about the piano playing. It was still fun, but he had to match what he was doing to the memory of what he was showing them or the effect would be ruined. The 'recording' he was playing wasn't just the normal sound -- he'd been in the Mindscape, in the same room, when he'd heard her sing this, and he'd captured every tone and note along every scale in existence in his memory -- the etherics, the subvocals, the wavefronts of the various overlapping morphic fields, and everything in-between.

It still wasn't quite the same as having her actual _presence_ in the same room with them (to be reacting to and interacting with THEM, in particular), but... as Bill wound down his supporting playing with a bit of a sigh of relief at having made no major blunders, limited as he was in his current body form at present, the look of stunned surprise on Stitched-Heart's face as the image of Vera Lynn faded out at the end of the song was more than enough. Miz was clapping.

"That, uh..." It took Robbie a minute. "That... didn't sound like the recording."

Bill propped up an elbow on the edge of the piano. "Of course not," Bill told him. "It's different when you're in the same room with them, feeling their energy."

Robbie looked up at him from where he was sitting, and sort of blinked. That… was kinda cool. He was used to rock concerts being like that, and... "Hey, that Woodstick festival is kinda like that, too, right?"

"Only if you like the 'Love God's brand of noise better than the stylings of the Goddess of Music herself," Bill told Stitched-Heart with more than a little derision. Then Bill stopped and considered that for a moment. "Actually," Bill put out there, "Cupid _does_ owe me a favor, and I think he still talks to her." Cupid was musical enough these days that they both still intersected the same circles occasionally. "I might be able to get her here in person." He'd have to catch Cupid at the festival though -- and even then the 'Love God' might not be able to pull through. The favor would, at most, probably only cover Cupid _trying_ to pass the message-ask along to her, and _maybe_ putting in a good word for him, so... "--No promises," Bill added. If Cupid asking her wasn't enough, then Bill wasn't _about_ to try and take liberties with her time by calling on her directly -- not when she had so many more important sets and scores to create and do! He _liked_ her music! He didn't want to interrupt that, and since Bill didn’t know her schedule...

Miz tilted her head. "I'd like to meet her. I wonder how she feels about the modern songs?" She had only met a few musical deities in her multiverse. And a few musicians that she felt would be able to ascend into godhood once they built up enough power.

Bill didn't quite let out a laugh. "She's the Goddess of Music!" he told Miz, with a knowing smile. "She likely inspired every last one, if she didn't help write them directly."

Robbie's eyes went wide. "Whaaat?" Hey, _he_ wrote songs sometimes. Did that mean that lady had helped _him_ out, once or twice somehow? He wasn't sure how he felt about that... was she some kind of demon-mind-person like the triangle was, too? Did she... pretend to be human to record songs for people?! What even?! (Robbie didn't realize she was apparently a real magical person -slash- goddess, having no context for what that actually meant. He didn't even know about the Love God being more than a singer -- he thought 'Cupid' was just the guy's stage name, and that he was just an overhyped overrated overweight loser.)

Miz sighed dreamily. "That's so cool!"

"Dude, this is so messed up," Robbie groaned, sinking down in his pew further. Miz gave him a pout. No appreciation! How rude.

Bill was hardly offended by Stitched-Heart's reaction. (Unexpected things in music could be a bit overwhelming at times, in Bill's experience.) Instead, Bill began to play a bit of [Pachelbel's _Canon in D_](https://youtu.be/rNsgHMklBW0) lightly. "I do take requests, you know," he said, the mathematical progress of notes soothing him. (He'd used this piece as one of those to help retune the energy flow of his energy-self a few weeks ago.)

"...[Senbonzakura](https://youtu.be/Ov5IyW-O6bg)?" Miz asked quietly. "I can do the singing and guitar part, unless Robbie knows it?" She looked over, unsure if Vocaloid songs existed here. She hadn't quite Looked for them. She squinted at Robbie. "Can you read sheet music?" she asked.

"Uh, _yeah_ I can read sheet music," Robbie said, pushing himself upright a little. He felt almost offended. What kind of songwriter would he be if he couldn't do that?

"Then go get your guitar," Bill told him. Robbie looked like he was going to protest, but then he seemed to realize that Bill would just keep pushing -- or insult his guitar skills -- until he did. He got up and left the room. "I will need a copy of the sheet music as well," Bill said, turning to Miz. Scanning through his memories, he didn't remember ever Seeing that particular song performed -- or if he had, it had not been named within range of his Sight. Miz held out her hands and sheets of paper appeared, little black spots appearing until they became the scales and notes. She held it out to him. "There's the ballad version or the normal version," she said. "The ballad version doesn't have guitar though."

"Normal version, then," Bill told her with a smile, holding his hand out for it. Miz passed it to him, and he began setting it up on the piano in front of him. He started reading through it, and by the time a grumbling Robbie had come back with his guitar slung over his shoulder, he'd gone through it three times and had it thoroughly memorized. He started working his way through finger exercises, motions that corresponded what he needed to play, with his hands held about three inches above the keys. (Practice made perfect, and Bill wanted to be sure that he was going to get everything RIGHT for his little sister to enjoy.)

"This better not be lame," Robbie not-quite threatened, as he held out a hand to Miz for his own copy of the sheet music. Miz bounced up to him and held up the papers. "Here you go!" she said cheerfully. Robbie took it from her and sat down on the pew bench, starting to page through it. He took a different approach than Bill; he held his guitar and strummed out a few parts here and there as he made his way through it, frowning. After only half a page, he looked over at Miz and raised an eyebrow. "It's pretty fast," he said finally.

"That's what makes it FUN." Miz insisted. "I even gave you the version with a guitar solo, you know?" She thought that was very thoughtful of her. Robbie sort of grumbled at her for that, giving him the difficult part.

They were all done looking through it and almost ready to start playing when the Valentinos walked in carrying two trays of cookies and milk. "Oh, how cute. You're playing with Bill's little sister, Robby-kins?" Mrs. Valentino cooed. Robbie groaned. "Whatever." The couple placed the cookies down on a table and smiled at them. "Could we listen too, dear?"

Bill twitched in place and hesitated at the ask. He didn't say anything though, and didn't raise his head to look at Stitched-Heart, instead keeping his head (and his mental focus) on the music score, and what he would need to do to play his part.

Miz looked over at Robbie. "I personally don't mind," she tossed in her two cents. Robbie let out a put-upon sigh. "Ugh, _fine_ ," he told his parents. "Whatever. It's not a big deal." He strummed a few more notes on his guitar, trying to ignore them for being so... embarrassing.

Robbie looked over at Bill. "So, starting in three, two..." Bill didn't quite look over at him, but they both started playing a beat later at the same time as if he had. Miz nodded along to the music and waited for her part. _"With a bold and sudden calling~ Western Revolution's starting~ Let our hearts be open to it~ Pacifist nation~"_ She danced a little, twirling around the free space as she went. _"Riding on a penny-farthing~ it's the flag of our sun rising~ Warding evil spirits like an ICBM~"_

Bill slowly started to relax and [get into it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ov5IyW-O6bg), getting used to the rhythm and beginning to trust that they were each going to keep up at the same tempo as he was, as the musical score dictated to them.

_"On the train tracks, running along the line~ let us move forward. Don't look behind~ Boys and girls becoming like samurai~ just like those from our previous life~"_ She paused as the music led up to the chorus, a wide grin on her face. It's been forever since she got to perform with other people.

_"Thousands of cherry blossoms dwindling in the light~ Though I can't hear your voice, keep what I say in mind~ This bouquet that surrounds is iron poison, see~ Looking down at us from that big guillotine~"_ Robbie was glancing over at her as he played, confused about the lyrics. Bill was nodding his head to the beat as he played along, beginning to smile.

_"Darkness has just engulfed the universe we know~ The lament that you sing can't reach ears anymore~ We are still far away from reaching clear blue skies~ Go ahead, keep shooting, with that ray gun, fight~!"_ Miz sang as she danced around the room.

The Valentinos seemed to be enjoying the performance. Robbie begrudgingly admitted it was an okay tune, as he and Bill made their way through the first longer instrumental bridge. He was unsure how he felt about the lyrics though, as Miz picked up singing again. Was this song about war? Still, they made it through the song, [there was BOTH a piano solo **and** a guitar solo](https://youtu.be/Ov5IyW-O6bg?t=145), even a dramatic upshift in key at the end that was more fun than just challenging, and Robbie found himself smiling a little despite himself as he played. (Unironically, even.)

Finally they struck the last notes and Miz bowed them out. Robbie's parents applauded enthusiastically. Miz was clapping too, beaming happily at both Bill and Robbie. "That was AWESOME!" she squealed.

Bill let out a long breath, working his hands a bit, and so did Robbie. Robbie looked up at Bill, and this time, he saw Bill glancing back at him. ...It was really weird. The demon had actually played along with the band-- uh, the _group_ of them. The other two of them. He hadn't tried to drown them out or anything -- which was, y'know, kind of what Robbie had thought that apocalypse thing was supposed to be all about? Drowning other people out? And yeah, none of them had stumbled on their parts, but with the way Bill had been holding himself (herself?) at the keyboard, he'd actually seemed ready to change tempo if they'd needed it -- Robbie _knew_ what that posture looked like and meant, from some of the other people he’d played with. It was weird.

He'd really blown the demon off when Bill had brought up his band before, because he didn't want the crazy demon taking over everything -- he'd just wanted to be left alone, okay? And that was what that demon did, right? -- take over stuff! But the demon didn't just seem to like some of the same kinds of music as he did (which the demon could've just been lying about maybe), Bill could actually _play_ , not just solo, and now Robbie didn't know what to think of him, her, it, whatever. --This _wasn't_ what he'd gotten out of what Dr. Pines had said a month ago, before they'd all gotten sent home instead of trying to do that really uncomfortable holding-hands thing again, and now Robbie was feeling confused.

Miz smiled to herself. Maybe if she could get Bill to make friends... of course, she wasn't going to force him, but she was hoping he'd be able to find more people he could hang out with. She knew he already played with Soos and Melody. Friends were the best thing. Real friends. She wondered if she could show him how to play with other humans nicely.

Then she skipped over to the table to grab some cookies, thrilled that she could TASTE them. She hummed in content. Cookies~ some of the few things she couldn't cook well was anything involving baking. She decided she would spend this time here in Bill's dimension learning how to bake. She wanted to make proper cakes instead of _cheating_ and just... creating them. "Thanks for the cookies, Mrs. Robbie's mom and dad," she said with a partially-full mouth.

"Oh, you're very welcome, sweetheart," Mr. Valentino told her with a smile. He missed how Bill fiddled with the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt a bit over by the piano. (Not that he would have realized that Bill had just surreptitiously used a piece of tech he'd built into his currently-'invisible' bodysuit, to scan the food and see what its composition was, to find out what had been put in it, even if he had seen Bill do it.)

"We hope you three like them," Mrs. Valentino said. "We tried to bake it with love!" Robbie groaned ("Ugh...") at his parents being unbearable. "I don't eat anything with milk or added sugar in it," Bill told them very straightforwardly, as he took his time sitting where he was and stacking the sheet music back into a neat little pile, not looking at any of them.

"Oh dear," said Mrs. Valentino. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." She walked over to the side of the piano. "Would you like some apple slices instead?"

Bill stopped moving, his hand not quite frozen in place, hovering in front of the last piece of sheet music. He flicked his eyes over to the side to watch her, and then slowly turned his head towards her. Once he was facing her, he said, "I don't like you."

Robbie shot to his feet, panicked. He'd seen what Bill had done to Pacifica's dad in the town square, the last time the demon had been running around alive. "Hey!" Robbie said, his voice cracking on him. Even if they were embarrassing, they were still his parents!

"Oh, it's all right, Robbie-kins," Mrs. Valentino said to her (still-panicking) son. "You know how most people feel about morticians and what we do." She turned back to Bill. "Bill, it's alright to feel uncomfortable about death," she told him quite pleasantly and kindly. "It's only natural--"

This time, it was Bill who shot to his feet. " _I don't like you_ ," he repeated again. "And death is _**NOT**_ natural!" Miz twitched slightly.

Bill didn't wait for a response from Stitched-Heart's mother. He just turned on his heel, grabbing up his lantern-rod as he went, and stormed on out of the room, out the door to the outside. Miz grabbed a handful of cookies and bowed to the couple. "Thanks for the cookies! Sorry about big brother," she said quickly, before she hurried after him, surreptitiously grabbing a few more cookies before she left. "Oh, dear," came the soft echo from the room, before Robbie stormed right out after them, hot on their heels.

Bill jumped the low stone wall and stomped his way all the way up to the top of the hill and all but threw himself down onto the grassy ground to lie flat on his back, staring up at the sky.

He was shaking slightly and breathing heavily.

Miz fluttered over, opting to float instead of walk. She didn't say anything, just settled down to sit on top of a gravestone beside him, nibbling on her cookies as she waited for him to calm down. Close enough that he should knew she was there and would know he wasn't alone.

Robbie _almost_ turned around with a 'nope, nope, nope' when she saw Bill's kid sister _float_ her way up that whole hill. He didn’t want to maybe have to take on one demon, let alone **two** of them. He was a coward, and he knew it. He wasn't some fated-hoodie-wearing zodiac-whatever. Or, if he was, it was the _hoodie_ that was fated maybe, or… --Look, it wasn’t him. Okay? (He wasn't some kind of a hero like those two old guys were, or the shrimp and his sister, or anything.) Not really. This wasn't him.

... But that demon had also threatened his parents. That _wasn't_ okay! Okay? So Robbie shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and stomped his own way up the hill, shuddering a bit and muttering to himself about how stupid this was and how he was being and how he was probably just going to get himself killed...

Miz was humming a [soft melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jb-8JQIqHJc), calm and soothing.

Bill was starting to calm down at Miz's singing, almost, and Robbie was almost at the top of the hill where they were, when Bill angrily kicked his heels down at the ground hard and yelled out, " _I HATE PARENTS!!!_ "

Robbie almost had a heart attack, and he definitely jumped in place -- "Aaaah!" -- and almost fell over.

Bill spat out a few curses in Galactic Standard and covered his face with his arms. He was shaking again. --Stupid human-ish body! He kept trying to do the deep breathing like Stanley had told him to when it did things like this and It. Wasn't. Working!

Miz glanced over. What a complicated mess of feelings. She paused to consider it before flicking her fingers, making a soft snap, and gathering some loose soil together to form a large stuffed animal.

Hearing the soft snap had Bill suddenly pulling his arms away from his face. He remembered in a rush that Miz was there with him and that she could feel absolutely EVERYTHING that he was feeling just then. "--Put on your headband," he told Miz shakily. He had no idea how well he was or wasn't regulating his energy self at the moment anymore, or his emotions on top of that, and what she was or wasn't actually able to feel coming off of him. But he knew she had to be feeling SOMETHING, because she HAD been able to feel what he’d been feeling before, out in the forest. So if his emotions were spiking any higher than--!! ...he didn't want to think about that.

Miz slipped it back on and blinked at the mild disorientation before showing Bill the doll she made. "Here big brother, it's got velcro along the neck. So you can rip it's head off, put it back on and rip it off again." She held the doll out for him.

Bill stared at it for a moment, not comprehending. Then his eyes jittered side-to-side slightly, and suddenly it occurred to him that the thing she was holding out in front of him was really just a small pillow. Once Bill had equated it to _that_... Bill reached out, snatched it out of her hand, and pulled it in to his chest as he rolled over onto his side and curled up around it.

He brought the side of it up to his mouth and bit into it quickly and ferociously. _Multiple times._ While making cut-off growling noises at it. Miz nibbled on her cookies and waited, trading out hearing for taste (in her headband) for the moment.

Robbie was not quite hiding behind a gravestone watching this. --He was being smart about things, okay? No reason to get blasted or turned into stone again by the triangle or his sister for no reason. He could just, y'know, wait here for a minute while they both calmed down... and _then_ go and piss them off. Yeah, great plan, Robbie. He shakily sat down on the ground behind his gravestone cover and hoped they wouldn't notice him before he wanted them to. (... _If_ he wanted them to.)

After awhile, Bill stopped biting the doll and more or less completely collapsed against the ground, breathing heavily. He was still shaking slightly, but it was more on-again off-again light shivering than hard shaking. Miz tossed the last cookie into her mouth and swapped out taste for hearing again. Looked like Bill was done with his minor tantrum for now.

"I'm not being a very good big brother," Bill muttered out quietly. He hadn't been trying to help her figure out her empathic senses better; instead he'd taken her singing. And he hadn't started working on her broken-Bill problem really at all yet.

"You're being a fine big brother." Miz assured him. "You're still new to this. You were the little brother with Liam, right?" she sat back.

"Yes," Bill said miserably, curling up around the doll a little more and curling his fingers into it. He missed him, he missed him, he missed him. ('Liam?' thought Robbie.)

"Being the older sibling is hard. I had two younger sisters and a younger brother. I know how it is," she told him. "But the thing is, you're still my brother. And as your sister, I say you're a fine big brother." Miz had always been the oldest child. It was really nice to be doted on for once. Time Baby didn't count since he'd never done anything brotherly for her.

Bill made a soft chittering noise that sounded almost painfully worried, and, dude, Robbie _knew_ that he should not be hearing this. If they found out, he was so dead...

Unless...

...Oh, yeah. He could _USE_ this.

Miz scooted a little closer, not reaching for Bill, waiting for him to come to her, if he needed it. She liked hugs now (craved them), after having her friends help her work through her fear of physical touch. She knew it helped a lot when her friends let her know they were there, where she could seek out affection if she wanted, but they let HER choose if and when she did so. Miz waited. If Bill needed her, she would be here. Seeing Bill so sad made all her 'Big Sister' instincts rear up.

Bill _finally_ started to settle down. He not quite painfully rolled back over onto his back and blinked, realizing how much closer Miz was to him now. ...Did she want to hug him again?

"HEY!" they both heard, and Miz and Bill turned their heads to see Robbie stand up over at a nearby tombstone. He was trembling a bit (all he _really_ wanted to do was run away in the opposite direction) but he still stumbled his way closer (but not TOO close).

"If you're gonna say something stupid, do yourself a favor and walk away now," Miz growled softly. Bill was vulnerable right now. She wasn't going to allow this idiot to try anything.

Bill let out a huff. He shivered slightly. "No," he said to her, slowly sitting up. "My Zodiac. He's here; I'll listen."

Robbie swallowed. "Uh," he said, because he was not expecting that. He shifted from foot to foot. "You, uh, you play pretty good-- no, wait, I mean--" Robbie winced and shook his head, looking angry with himself. He pulled his hands out of his hoodie pockets and clenched them at his sides. "I _mean_ ," he began again, "You leave my parents alone!" he told Bill, pointing at him. "You better not kill them or anything, or I'll--"

"--Yes," said Bill, which left Robbie stopping, blinking at him, and going, "Uh, what?"

"I said 'yes'," Bill said. "I left your parents alone. I didn't kill them."

Robbie sort of stared at him. "I, uh, I mean... like, if you get angry or... something..." And now he was feeling weird and confused again.

"I _**was**_ angry," Bill told him, leaning forward a bit, then back a bit, shifting in place. "So I left. I didn't kill them."

"Uh," said Robbie. "Right." Great. So... now what?

Miz was trying to relax, filtering out the emotions she'd picked up from everyone and sighing as she converted them into pure energy. "Well, if that's all." She glanced at Robbie. "Was there anything else you needed?" Her eyes had turned yellow with demonic slit pupils as she stared him down.

Robbie stared at the two of them (barely holding back a shiver at the girl's eyes). Should he ask for more? He hadn't even gotten to threaten the demon yet. "I, uh, don't want you killing them ever. My parents."

"I don't like them," Bill said. "You don't like them."

"Hey!" Robbie complained, getting angry again. "They're still my parents!" And then he leaned back on his heels and almost turned and ran away at the pissed-off angry look that suddenly dropped across the demon's face for a couple of seconds there. (To him, Bill was way scarier than Miz, even when she did the thing with the cool-looking demon eyes.)

"Make them not talk to me, and I won't feel like killing them," was what Bill told him next.

Robbie twitched. "I... what?" It took him a couple seconds, as he remembered how to breathe again. "Uh, yeah. Okay." ...Hey, what else was he going to say to that? Miz snorted. "Just tell your parents that they make Bill uncomfortable. That's how you _try_ to keep them from talking to other people."

"That won't work. It's **never** worked." Robbie groused, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets again. "They just try and talk at you until they think you're okay with whatever, and everything's fine." He looked away from them. "Maybe I can… I dunno, tell them that you're allergic to them or something. Like, demon allergies."

Miz twitched. "Well… technically… I kinda would be if I stayed around them too long. Overdosing on happiness CAN happen. I threw up once... it ended up creating a planet... that was distressing..." She frowned as she remembered that strange orange alien she'd met. A shame she couldn't stay near him, he seemed nice... which was the issue.

It was Bill's turn to twitch. "Sorry," he said, a little miserably. He hadn't realized exposure to 'happiness' was that bad for her, before. He should have asked. He’d just assumed, and...

"It's fine. It's like milk. I'm mildly lactose intolerant but I still like the taste so I drink it. And I'm fine unless I drink too much. But for those two, I would need to be around them for a few hours to get too much," she explained. Bill paused as she used her 'purposeful' human defects to explain the way her powers worked. He frowned and wondered if Miz was still making vessels with allergies, even after more than 600 billion years, because she thought of them the same way -- because she thought ‘allergies’ were ‘normal’ and something she needed to do. If she thought of ‘too much, overdose' as being like a stupid human overreaction to things… if that was something she understood better than layering and all the measures related to THAT...

"Oh yeah, I am _definitely_ telling my parents about that allergies thing," Robbie told them both. Then he looked at them between them and realized… "UH. Yeah. So, I'm just gonna go..." because he should probably get going while the going was good. Robbie tossed a thumb in the direction behind him, then turned away from them. (He could save the 'Liam’ thing for later, just in case it might be important.) He frowned to himself as he walked back down the hill. (How had that demon-sister of his done that cool thing with her eyes, anyway? ...Hey, maybe he should look into something like that for his band. They sold colored contacts like that, right? Maybe...)

Miz watched him leave before turning back to Bill. "Do you want to talk about it?" She had a feeling Bill was projecting, he'd said he hated parents, just as a thing, and probably was thinking about his own. Her own Shape parents hadn't been... the best or most supportive... but she knew that they weren't the worst. There were much worse parents out there. She knew that from her human life. One of her friends had literally had the fairytale-like stress of the evil stepmother and a neglectful father who had allowed the abuse to happen because he _literally did not love his daughter_ and had even admitted as much to her friend once she was older and confronted him about it.

So Gray might have been embarrassed/disappointed(?) in her as his son... but Orange had tried to be a good caretaker. Not mother. Not after Miz's checkup at the hospital. Not when the two of them had simply accepted the Council's treatment of her. They weren't parents. They were her birthers. They weren't... parents. Not in any way that counted. But she didn't hate them. They were just... boxed into their lots in life and too afraid to challenge the system. Cowards, but not awful people.

Miz wondered if Bill would be comfortable talking about his parents. It was probably a touchy subject.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk about it," Miz told him when Bill didn't respond.

"They're all dead," he told her finally, staring up at the sky. "I don't have to bring any of them back, too."

Miz nodded. "That's your call." She paused. Should she mention this? Would it upset him? "Aside from Liam, is there anyone else you'd like to bring back?" She watched him closely.

Bill covered his eyes with the palms of his hands and let out a laugh.

"I should bring them ALL back," he told her. "Liam won't like it if I don't-- he'll call me a monster, probably." That had been what the other Liam had said to that other Bill that Bill had Seen. He didn't want to risk it. Liam had been so, so angry... he'd said...

"Liam is a kind person." Miz observed, reminded her of Will. "So he'd probably want everyone back, even strangers." She wondered how Will would feel if he'd known what she did.

"Even the ones who killed him," Bill confirmed. "Which makes no sense." He paused. "There's a line I knew," he told Miz, moving his hands to his chest. "She probably wouldn't be happy to be back. She burned down so many things. She wanted me to break everything to fix it." (At least, that's what Bill had thought Nora had meant.) Bill frowned. She'd probably think it was all for nothing, if he brought her back, along with everyone else.

Miz gave him a gentle smile. "Well, you DID break everything." She smiled wider. "And you're going to fix it, right?"

"Yes, but... Liam wouldn't want me to kill the circles again, if he doesn't want anyone dead," Bill told her. "She wanted me to make what she'd done worth something. To finish it." To his mind, the two wants that Liam and Nora had had were mutually contradictory.

"Well, you don't have to kill them," Miz commented. "If the Circles think they're so great, separate them. Put them in their own little corner of the world. See how long they last, how long they survive without the 'lower cast' supporting them. See if they'll beg to come back once they realize their way of life was built upon exploiting others and without others to exploit, they're nothing." Miz grinned. It seemed like a solution that would work, to her at least.

It wasn't the first time she'd thought about this. She wanted to see how the 1% would feel once they realized that without the 99% of lower class working so hard, they would have nothing. It'd actually been something she'd thought about back when she was human. When she saw movies about the rich people trying to survive some apocalypse themselves and leaving all others to die... how the heck had those idiots ever think they'd be able to survive? They had no idea how to grow food, or sanitation work or anything that they simply took for granted.

Bill let out a tired sigh. "They'll 'survive' just fine, after I finish fixing everything," Bill told her, stopping short of outright complaining. "That's the whole _POINT_."

"What sort of survival is it?" Miz tilted her head. "Just... being alive forever without needing food or any other sustenance?"

Bill let out a breath. "Well, it sounds like you got farther than you were before, if you thought of that!" he told her, with at least a little more enthusiasm than he'd been feeling before. He turned his head to look at her. "Didn't read like you'd thought of that with those farmers in that experiment of yours, before."

"Re-writing their biology to survive on nothing was a little too invasive, I didn't want to do that without their permission. Also, I once offered it and got turned down." Miz tilted her head back to stare into the sky. "A lot of people think that a life lived without struggle isn't living at all." She sighed. She could understand that. If you had everything you wanted, couldn't die, and never wanted for anything... how boring would that be?

Bill's eyebrows went up slightly. "Who said anything about rewriting anyone's biology?" he asked her. "Just change the Rules." He shrugged. "I didn't vote for gravity. And I didn't vote for people needing to eat food and starving if they don't get any. Or dehydrating without water to drink. Or dying and staying dead when they're killed. Or having to stay where they are, instead of going wherever they want to go!" He spread his arms out to the side. "The problem isn't _STRUGGLE_ , it's a LACK OF CHOICE," he told her. "There are _always_ fun things to do. _Always._ Most people are just too stupid to know it! --That's where the ' _making everything FUN_ ' part of things comes in, in liberating everyone -- so that things aren't BORING!" he told her. Because why would anyone want to keep living if there was nothing FUN to do to make life worth living? He wouldn't make such a simple stupid mistake as leaving out something like _THAT!_ That wasn’t liberating -- that would just make everything an infinite-lives CAGE. "So you want to do something hard -- fine," he told her. "Go right ahead! --But don't feel like you can't stop when you want to and decide to do something else, instead. Just... do what you want, whenever you want, and if it ISN'T fun, or STOPS BEING fun, then just GO ON to the **next** thing! _Why not??_ " he asked her somewhat rhetorically, lowering his arms.

Miz considered that. "A world where everyone can do whatever they want?" Bill nodded at her, then shook his head and told her enthusiastically: "Not just a world; _every_ world in _every_ dimension, and _every _place__ in-between!" Miz thought about it. It sounded nice, if very simple, despite actually being quite complex to pull off. "But what if what they want is to make other people sad?"

"Then the people who want to be sad welcome them in with open arms," Bill told her promptly. "And nobody else has to be where they are."

"What if... they were someone like Gideon who wanted Mabel to love him? But Mabel doesn't love him?" Miz asked. Free Will was complicated after all. But Bill waved that off with a, "Find a Mabel that feels the same way. Or let him stick himself in a bubble where he can't tell the difference, if he really wants it that bad." Miz frowned as she realized, "That would be a lot to keep track on. An infinite Gideons with an infinite desires." Miz shivered.

"Not all Gideons are the same," Bill told her. "Some are pursued by Mabels who _they_ don't want the attentions of! And not all dimensions exist all at the same time. The 'infinite' dimensions aren't actually infinite in the way you might be thinking," he told her. "The stupid lizard only spins them up when it needs to, or wants to, as far as I can tell. --It's lazy," Bill told her. Or, well, as lazy as it could get. Which was pretty lazy overall, in Bill's opinion.

"Hm..." Miz closed her eyes in thought. "Rewriting the Rules of the universe would require a lot of power." She wondered how much it would take. There were some dimensions where physics didn't work like she was used to. Would it be like that?

"It's easier when you're sitting outside of it. Like the stupid lizard is. Almost impossible while you're standing in the middle of it, though," Bill grimaced. "Leverage is a thing!" Miz nodded. "Does... do you think my Void of Doors exists outside of it?" she asked.

"No idea," he told her. "Haven't seen it, let alone Seen it. --I didn't try to open a Door yet." He'd found the one Miz had 'left' inside his head, finally, and effectively 'warded' that one, too. The main one she'd made 'outside' of it, in this dimension, he'd warded and booby-trapped with several more things than that. He'd technically spent more of his time on setting things up to automatically be attracted to (and form around) the 'Door', than time to actual create the traps and locks themselves.

"Well, I know for a fact that _my_ Ax can't access it. Even if he somehow can see parts of it." Miz settled more comfortably on the headstone. After all, her dad hadn't pulled her home that first time she went gallivanting off with Seb, even though he’d disproved of her going back here. And he still couldn't stop her from going through her Doors.

"Interesting," Bill murmured. "Are you sure it's not lying to you about that?"

Miz frowned. "...I guess I wouldn't know. I can't feel Ax's emotions. Never know what he's thinking." It made it hard to tell what he was feeling. She had no idea how to read his rather impressive poker face. (After all, what was >( -__- )< supposed to mean?) She relied more on the exasperated sighs he let out to tell how he was feeling.

Bill let out a soft snicker. "...Want to borrow anti-Bill and toss him at your lizard's head? He does specialize in the Emotions of the Heart, not the Thoughts of the Mind." Miz giggled. "Anti-Bill... is he a purple square or something?" Oh my god, if he really was...

Bill blinked at her. "Yes. You Saw him when you were looking?" He would have thought she'd have said something at the lake if she had.

"Naw, but back when I was human, I read about him. Sounded kinda neat, in a funny way." She laughed. Good to know some of the fan-works information was valid here (even if the purple square design was for some weird demon-version of Tad Strange, before the episode actually aired and people found out who the guy really was…) Then again, there was a chance that every piece of media she'd seen for the show existed out there somewhere. Ugh, that was both hilarious and rather disturbing. Wasn't there that one fic she read where Ford was just evil. And a rapist? She shuddered. Nope. She wasn't gonna go to that world. Nope. Never. Not in a trillion years and more.

Bill tilted his head at her when he saw her shudder. He waited for her to say something, but when she didn't, he slowly sat up and said, "We should work on your 'emotional waves' problem." He looked down at his body, and his hands. "I think I'm mostly stable again." And they were more than thirty feet away from the closest humans -- the Valentinos down the hill. Bill glanced over at her. "I can try meditating as you work. Human females are actually able to do it properly; that's one of the main reasons why I swapped over to this bio-sex!" he told her. "I've never Seen a human male who could."

Miz nodded and slipped her thumbs under her headband to lift it off. She shivered as everything came back again. The smell of the soil, the minor tremors in the ground as the undead shifted in their graves, the images from every knot of tree bark and triangle across the world and multiverse. She pulled her focus back with the ease of practice and rubbed her head. Ok, time to see how this worked.

Meanwhile, Bill tapped the simplified control pad at his wrist to turn off the extra visual input he'd been getting from his 'invisible' bodysuit's sensors. (Miz had her Eye open again, so she wasn’t at such a sensory disadvantage anymore to need him to be looking out for her that way, and it was too distracting to have all that being tossed at him for what he was about to do.) He then pulled himself into a relaxed yet upright cross-legged posture and not quite closed his eyes. He lay his hands on his knees, palm-down, and stared out at nothing, with his eyes half-lidded, as he regulated his breathing.

Miz closed her eyes as she felt and Felt both inside and outside herself. After having that sense shut off and turned back on several times she thought she might be able to track it down now. It was a _thing_ that was part of her. As natural as moving, as natural as being able to disperse her consciousness into and around the physical layer of the world around her. She could Feel where it was, what it was. But how to control it? Like the way an eye would blink and the lungs moved air for breath, it was a natural background action that went on without her needing to control it.

But you could not blink if you chose to. You could hold your breathe if you wanted. Not for very long but you _could_. Miz held her Empathy closed. She could do it. But for how long? She was never any good at NOT blinking. And creatures generally needed to breathe. She felt this metaphor wasn't entirely accurate. She could survive without her Empathy, even if it left her feeling a little... empty. But the thing was, she COULD hold it back, keep her powers from doing that thing they did with the absorbing and the feeling... but it wouldn't be for long. Maybe a few hours at a time. Perhaps she should try the Layers thing that Bill mentioned. Miz tried splitting herself, not physically into another instance of herself, but around herself. Another her outside her. Like an onion.

She giggled to herself at how silly that sounded. Layer on multiple 'hers' and then cutting off consciousness from them. So that they would absorb the emotions, without actually being able to feel them. Set each of them on 'Filter' mode and by the time the energy reached the 'her' on the inside, they were pure, clean, and easily digestible! She wiggled at the odd feeling of being 'her' inside 'herself' inside another 'herself'. It felt like wearing multiple layers of clothing, a little... contained in here. Like a shell... or...

...an exoskeleton...

"Ooooooh...." Miz said. That's what he meant.

"Problem?" Bill asked smoothly, sounding a bit zen, with a slight buzzing undercurrent to his voice. "Or solution?"

"Solution." Miz grinned. She wiggled, trying to get used to this feeling. "Hm... it's kinda tight."

"You found something that worked?" Bill asked her, slowly shifting his eyes over to her.

"Multiple layers of 'me' filtering out the emotional resonance before the energy reaches me and gets absorbed normally."

"So you were able to isolate the vector, then," Bill said, letting himself fall back down several levels and then straightening up a bit, shaking out his arms. "Good job!" Though he blinked as he parsed the rest of that statement. "Multiple 'you's?" he asked. "They aren't..." He wasn't entirely certain how to put this. He'd heard the air-quotes, as Stanley put it, but he was finding that his terminology and hers didn't always match. "...There isn't any Mind to them, is there?" he asked his sister a bit skeptically. He didn't _think_ that she'd make that kind of a mistake, making multiple versions of herself with a rudimentary sort of Free Will but no actual control over anything whatsoever, and no real ability to properly handle the emotions she was being bombarded with -- just feel them. (That was a recipe for a very different sort of insanity.) But it was an egregious enough one that he felt he had to ask, to correct her if need be, just in case.

"Naw, they're all me. It's more like multi-tasking. But I can sort of 'program' them to do something -- in this case, filtering, without being conscious." Miz continued to wiggle. It really felt weird. She was going to need to get used to this.

"Ah," Bill said, relaxing somewhat. "That's... not how I would think to describe it, but... hm." It took him a moment. "Yes. That does sound a bit like the layering I used to do, I think. Before I learned to self-regulate my energy flow a bit differently," he added, for completeness. He was somewhat happy that she was open to learning those basic skills he’d listed off to her in the forest before. (He’d be happier if she had already known how to do them before meeting him, to not have been taken advantage of or pushed around to ‘spike’ in such bad ways before. But Bill was practical; in his opinion, _now_ was better than NEVER.) Bill tensed and relaxed his shoulders, then let his arms hang down at his sides. "There are also ways to intercept things before they impact your own energy being by creating a sort of projected field of control that extends outside yourself, too," he began, wanting to make sure he gave her the concept now, while he knew he still could. (He didn't know when she might leave or how quickly she might go when she did, and this _wasn't_ the sort of thing to talk about anywhere but in-person, in a dimension where he had most viewing that had to do with Seeing _him_ locked down.)

"--But that can get very complicated, very quickly," Bill warned her. "Handling the interactions, feedback, recycling energy, changing flow direction, preventing siphoning or externally-applied distortions. --Those require layering to do, among other things," he let out a laugh, "At least the way I figured out how to do it!" he told her. "I'd get used to this automatic layering first," he told her quite seriously. "This is a good order to do it in! And it's very difficult to do the first time," he praised her. "I learned to create exoskeletons after I learned this, using a similar idea but a different process on physical matter," he added. "And yes, the feel of it can be a bit odd at first," he noted as he saw her wiggle. He thought for a moment. "...You could probably modify your headband now, couldn't you? That might feel different. If one way of doing this gets too uncomfortable..." He paused. "And one way might be easier to drop completely than the other," he added after a moment of thought. "Layers may take longer until you're used to shifting their characteristics quickly, but there should be less... dizziness?" Bill put out there. She had said she seemed to get dizzy when she tried to sense things that weren't 'there' for her to use (like her Eye when suppressed). Having things layered in 'harder' and less permeable strata could effectively feel the same way, if she tried to 'pull' to feel more, instead of working with (not through) this new method.

Miz blinked. "I also found a way to hold down my Empathy so it doesn't reach out to absorb stuff. But I can only hold it for a little while. So I think the Layering I'm doing would be a good substitute."

Bill nodded. So she really had isolated it. "Direct suppression is difficult, and _should_ be uncomfortable. That's closer to... a human tying off a limb very tightly, right before they're about to AMPUTATE it," he told her, suppressing a shiver at the thought of her potentially doing that to herself, cutting off PIECES of herself. "Layering is a MUCH easier way to handle the filtration and walling-away-or-redirect processes," he confirmed. "Much better than getting rid of something entirely! --And why would you _want_ to?" he told her. Getting rid of a sense was bad, not good, as far as Bill was concerned. More senses meant more information!

"I'm just gonna have to get used to this feeling." She wiggled again. "But at least I can tell which part of myself is the part that's doing it. Could probably rework the spells on my headband to only seal that off." She held up said headband. Then she paused. "I could also fix my headband but pretend I didn't. It might make the humans feel more comfortable?"

"Stanley will notice," Bill told her, with a slight grimace. "He's good at noticing lies. It's easier not to lie," he told her, "Or to just leave things out," though Stanley usually noticed that, too. Stanley didn’t always call Bill on it, usually let things ‘slide’, but he noticed. "But... he _was_ trying to help you earlier," Bill told her. He'd been watching Stanley closely, and been pleased that he'd actually attempted to _help_ , not undermine or hurt, his sister. And Stanley had done it _consistently_ , too. "If you tell him, then he can help you better. He will also like it, that you are trying to fix something that was part of what went wrong," Bill noted. Stanley had been consistent about that, too. "Fixing that means that the same thing can't happen again."

Miz nodded. "So... leave my headband as is for now, talk to Stan about my ideas for a possible solution and ask him which one he thinks would make them all the most comfortable?"

"Fix the headband now if you haven't already, the rest of them can't tell anyway. Tell Stanley what you did and know now, so that he can have input on what you do, too. Don't tell anyone else unless he tells you to. Yes," Bill restated back to her in his own concept-words, with a few slight revisions.

"Ok." Miz nodded and fiddled with the piece of cloth. The change was barely noticeable but she slipped it back on and allowed her Layers to absorb back into herself. Ah~ much better. Less constricted feeling.

Bill tilted his head at her. "It feels different, doesn't it?" he grinned at her.

Miz grinned back. "Yeah. My head is clear without being quiet. Well, too quiet at least." She tilted her head. "It's nice to have my Eyes back."

Bill nodded. "Good!" He reached out and patted her on the head again. "Good job, little sis!"

Miz purred, feeling happy and content and so very _safe_ here with her big brother. This was what a big brother should be. Nothing like that jerk Time Baby who was the worst brother. The two demons cheerfully got to their feet and made their way back to the Shack.

\----

Bonus doodle!

\----

_Chapter Epilogue:_

Robbie let out a breath as he pushed himself over the low wall at the bottom of the cemetery hill. He had barely survived that one. He could barely believe he’d done that.

Fuck. He couldn’t believe Bill Cipher had to come by his house! And a little sister?! Seriously! No one EVER tells him anything! Robbie groaned. At least the two demons didn’t hurt his parents. He was gonna ask Wendy later about the whole ‘Bill’s little sister’ thing. Did she know about that? Did they tell everyone except him?

He dropped his feet back down onto the ground and stopped. His parents. Bill had gotten angry with them, but Bill hadn’t blasted them or messed with them like he’d done to Pacifica’s parents. He’d gotten angry with them...

Robbie brought his head up slowly as he realized…

...his parents hadn’t convinced him. They hadn’t convinced Bill that ‘death was okay’. Or ‘natural’. Or _any_ of that junk.

Robbie turned back to look up the hill, frowning slightly as he shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pockets. Bill had _pushed back_. His parents hadn’t been able to convince him. Not like they did everyone else. Everyone else, they’d just talked to, and talked to, and talked them into...

Robbie frowned, hunching his shoulders slightly, as he pulled a hand out of one pocket to finger the heart on his chest. It _wasn’t_ okay for people to die. And it was weird that the demon seemed to _get_ that. That, like, people had to just STOP. It wasn’t okay that people had to do that, to not survive and not come back. If people could come back...

\--Not the whole ‘zombie thing’ coming back, but actually _come back_...

Robbie let out a breath. Bill didn’t think death was ‘natural’. So what did he actually think about it? ...He’d gotten _angry_ about it.

Robbie wasn’t stupid. The way Bill had been talking about his big brother Liam… that guy was straight-up dead. And Bill was still angry about it.

And the demon hadn’t been about to let his parents talk him out of feeling angry and upset and all mad about it.

Robbie stared up at the hill for awhile, and then he turned away.

Robbie didn’t really know what to think about the demon still, and he still had a lot of mixed uncomfortable feelings about the guy, but if Bill didn’t think that death should be a thing… if the demon thought that death just wasn’t fair...

Robbie clenched his jaw, and glared at the house, and the wake room, and everything that was there, the whole building.

...well, Robbie could definitely get behind that.

He walked back to the house, fingering the heart on his hoodie as he went. Feeling the heartbeat of the heart underneath it.

_Epilogue end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My AN:**  
>  Woo. We're just getting started here! :)


	5. Chapter 74: You’ll owe me a favor down the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Little twins with big dreams  
> What could be cuter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 84 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/42714248). It was first posted on Mar 18, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\----

Stan knew there was an easy way to get his brother out of the kitchen for dinnertime. He also knew he didn’t want to do that. Letting Ford back into his lab wasn’t something Stan wanted to do right then. He didn’t want Ford potentially getting his hands on any more guns, and he wasn’t sure what Ford might try to whip up down there if he thought he was in another dimension again. Or in the Nightmare Realm still. Or some brain-computer-jail-trap thing. Or anything _else_ his brother had gotten paranoid about before, yesterday afternoon, before Ford had fallen asleep (again) and been (marginally) better yesterday evening.

Melody had really been earning her keep around here today, Stan figured. She’d been pulling double-duty in babysitting Ford _and_ helping with the cooking while Stan tried to figure shit out, between the demons and Ford’s own brain.

Stan sighed as Ford’s head nodded at his side. Right now, they were both sitting on the floor of the TV room, watching Ducktective reruns. (Between his brother and the demon-kids, his back was going to murder him tonight in bed. He wasn’t even thinking about the next morning; that was gonna be a given.) The only good thing about this was that Ford had spent a lot more time with the niblings today, not worrying about Bill, and had actually seemed overall a hell of a lot happier than he’d been the last couple of weeks (even if he'd still been stressed the hell out). And the kids had run Ford ragged for him today, almost, keeping Ford too busy to think of much more than what was happening in the moment with them. It had kept Ford's mind off of things when it had been happening, and now his brother was too tired now to cause anybody much trouble for the rest of the night, let alone himself, even if he did grab a few zzz’s in a short nap. And, y'know, maybe he _should_ nap for a bit. It looked to Stan like he certainly wasn’t gonna stay awake for much longer...

And hey, if Ford fell asleep for awhile, maybe he would feel even better. Sleeping yesterday afternoon had helped some. He’d been a lot better this morning, too. (A full night’s sleep had seemed to do even more for his brother than the nap he’d had yesterday afternoon.) And yeah, Ford was putting on a good face for the rest of them today, trying to keep the kids from worrying about him, but it was pretty clear that Ford was still worried himself underneath it all, and confused, and… probably ready to panic again if things came to a head, but Stan figured that the kids could help him talk Ford down, if it really came to that and he couldn't handle it himself.

...It made Stan wonder if he’d acted kind of this way when he’d been having memory problems, sort of. (His memories of the time in-between for that week, when he’d been getting his memories back, were really the fuzziest memories he had anymore.) Not that Ford was having the same problem, exactly? (--It was more like Ford was remembering _too_ much, not too _little_...) But the lying and trying to act like everything was normal, trying to please everybody around you so that they stopped feeling so bad? Stopped worrying? Feeling the strain of that, and knowing you were failing at everything somehow, but just not knowing how to fix things, because you couldn’t really speed it up, the things-getting-better part? It would just take time? Stan let out a long sigh.

...and then Stan scowled as he remembered how Bill had said that Ford would just fix himself. Part of him was annoyed that it was starting to look like the demon had been… --Stan didn’t want to think that, that the triangle demon might be right about any part of this. (Because it worried him that if the demon was right about this, then… --No. That was stupid. Ford _wouldn’t_ do this to _himself_. That made no sense at all.) Hell, the kid was maybe _half_ -right at most, just like he usually was with anything to do with Ford.

Ford made a sleepy sound and practically nudged his head up against Stan’s shoulder, and Stan had to hold down a laugh. Hell, his brother never changed, did he? Not really. Same old goofy glasses-wearing nerd. (Just a little more shooty sometimes than maybe he'd used to be. _Maybe._ Heh, not that Stan would know, really. He'd never seen Ford with a gun before he'd brought him back -- just that crossbow that one time, when he'd… well, that was a long time ago.)

Stan let out an amused huff of breath, then wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders and reached up to stroke his hand through Ford’s hair lightly. He watched as his brother murmured something out in alien-whatever and relaxed even more, slumping up against him.

Stan kept it up until Ford looked well and truly fast asleep, then frowned slightly as he kept his hand in Ford's hair, just holding it there. He frowned because he’d seen stuff like this from his brother out on the boat, except…

Well, it _really_ didn’t help that some of the stuff that Stan had learned to do with the kid? Was stuff that seemed to work _better_ with his brother than stuff that he’d tried to do for his brother _before_ the kid had come back.

It made him want to kick the entire rest of every other universe out there to the curb, that the stuff that he was figuring out worked best to handle the kid, worked even _better_ to calm down his brother when stuff got bad. Stan didn’t want, or have, to know what kinda junk they’d both had to deal with, out there, just...

Stan clenched his jaw. ...Because Stan really _hoped_ it was just a living out there someplace else for thirty years thing, and not, y’know, something that was **more** …

Stan felt Ford shift uncomfortably in his sleep, and Stan forced himself to relax. He let out a slow breath once Ford had settled again. --Ford first. _Maybe_ kicking the kid upside the head later. --He didn’t _know_ if it was a Bill-thing yet. For all he knew, his brother and the kid only sort of _seemed_ to react to some things the same way _sometimes_ , and he _knew_ his brother didn’t _think_ like the kid, so...

(Besides, that dragon-kid might get upset if he hit her brother, even if it was just a ‘kick to the mind’ or whatever. Last thing he needed was two pissed-off demon-kids on his hands, hell.)

Stan glanced over at the clock on the wall. ...Eh, demon-kids could take care of themselves for awhile, Stan figured. At least until after he got Ford and the kids some dinner, and it wasn’t really time for that, yet. Stan glanced down at his brother, then over to the TV. They were only halfway through the episode that was playing; was one of the better ones, too.

Stan didn’t really have any reason to move and try to wake his brother up -- and a lot of good reasons not to. So Stan just sat there and watched the rest of that episode, and two others, as his brother slept easily on his shoulder.

And then Stan blinked and realized that he wasn’t exactly sure how long a blink that he’d just blinked for. He pulled in a breath slowly, and rubbed his free hand across his face. Maybe he could just make it through this next episode, and...

Stan yawned.

...Yeah, no. If he kept sitting here, he was gonna fall asleep on the floor. _And_ he needed to get up and get dinner started. His brother had probably slept enough for now; about an hour and a half was a pretty solid nap, right? He ruffled his brother’s hair a little, trying to rouse him a bit. "Hey, nerd-owl. No fallin’ asleep out in the TV room like last time." Kind of a lie, except not really, because napping and sleeping were two totally different things. ...Damn nerd really DID look like an owl, though, especially with the way he blinked his eyes at him as he woke up.

"Uh… wh’t? Ss-tan… ley?" Ford yawned. He blinked his eyes open tiredly, and looked around, confused. "The… kids?" Ford asked almost meekly.

"Yeah, they’re fine," Stan told him. He barely resisted the urge to say, ‘here with us for the summer’, because that would give it away, that he knew that his brother wasn’t all that sure about the time and date and place and all that junk. (Which would probably have his brother acting all paranoid again.) What Stan _did_ say was that they: "Went out to visit with Mabel’s friends for awhile. Said they might stay for a sleepover at the Chiu's place. I’m gonna call ‘em back for dinner. Rather have ‘em sleeping here under the barrier," he told Ford.

"Bill," Ford said quietly, straightening up and rubbing his eyes under his glasses. It left Stan blinking, surprised. He hadn’t expected his brother to bring the demon up. "Uh, no?" Stan said slowly. "Bill can’t… possess ‘em, even without the barrier," he told his brother, frowning slightly. "I was thinkin’ more… uh, ghosts getting in and stuff? Other things?" Well, here it was, trying to figure out what Ford did and didn’t think was going on right now.

His brother was quiet for a long few moments. "...Right," Ford said quietly, finally. Stan watched him closely. His brother didn’t _look_ as unsure or confused as he had before, and this was a big step up from going paranoid and nearly attacking them the last time Bill’s name had come up, but...

"You wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’ right now, Ford?" Stan asked him outright. He really didn’t feel like guessing. He felt his brother go almost rigid next to him, and then look over at him. "What?" Stan asked. "You--" Ford began, then stopped for a moment. And swallowed. And his brother opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped, and slowly closed it again. ...And he still looked pretty tense.

"Ford…" Stan began. He wasn’t exactly looking like he was going to shoot him, but he _was_ getting kinda shooty-vibes from his brother right now. (He wondered for a moment if this was what the kid had meant earlier.)

He watched his brother forcibly straighten up a bit, thin his lips, and stare him straight in the eye. "Stanley, what day is it?" his brother asked him.

Well, shit. "Uh…" He hadn’t though Ford would ask him outright. He watched Ford clench his jaw. Damn, something must’ve given it away. And now he was gonna get all paranoid about whatever the heck he thought was going on now. "Look--" Stan began.

Ford stood up.

" _Where are the children,_ " was his brother's next demand, and Stan grimaced and slowly pushed himself to his feet, using the sofa as a ladder, almost. Damn his back.

"I _told_ ya," Stan began, then felt a little irritated himself when his brother demanded, "--So if I go to Candy’s house, and the kids aren’t there?!"

Stan blinked his eyes hard and wondered if maybe he was the one who needed more sleep. He scratched the back of his head. "You can’t just use the phone?" Stan asked him. At the look his brother gave him, he sighed and said, "Look Poindexter, I can call Mabel right now."

"Do so," Ford just about outright commanded him, and Stan found himself having to do one of those count-to-five things to keep from (trying to get away with) punching his brother in the face. "Fine," Stan grumbled out and shrugged. He walked his way over to the phone in the kitchen. Ford followed him over, arms folded across his chest. Stan let out a huff and rolled his eyes as he picked up the receiver and dialed the number. Because, _really_ Ford?

It rang. And rang. He waited for it to pick up.

"Hello?" came the voice of Mrs. Chiu. Stan sighed and scratched his cheek. "Yeah, hi. It’s Stan Pines," he told her. "Need to talk to Mabel. Can you maybe get her to stop giggling for five seconds with her girl pals and--"

"Mabel isn’t here," was what he heard next, and Stan felt his expression drop. "Uh, what?" Stan said, shifting the receiver to his other ear. He… hadn’t misremembered that. Had he? "Uh. Are they… at Grenda’s place?" he tried next, feeling a little off, like he always did when his memory wasn’t exactly… but that hadn’t happened in...

Ford was staring at him. Stan tried to act like nothing was wrong. Maybe he’d simply forgotten or misheard or... whatever it was that old age did to people. 

"My daughter is sleeping over at Grenda’s house, yes," was what he heard next. "Too messy here," and relief flooded him. "Right, yeah," Stan said. "I’ll call over there, then." He let out a breath and hung up, then dialed the other number. (Hey, at least he remembered the phone numbers, right? Weird that Mabel hadn’t called to tell them, though. ...Maybe Melody had picked up instead? He could’ve nodded off with Ford for a little longer than he’d thought he had, maybe. Wouldn’t put it past himself.) Ford was still boring holes into Stan’s back with his stare. 

Stan waited impatiently for the pickup. "Yeah, hello?" he said, when the phone finally stopped ringing. " **Yes?** " he heard from the other end, an unnaturally deep voice of either Mrs. or Mr. Grendinator, he could never tell. "Yeah, Stan Pines. Need to talk to Mabel. Can you--" He stopped when he heard a scuffle on the other end, trying to hold back a smile.

He lost the urge to smile when he heard another deep loud voice on the end say "HELLO?" instead of Mabel’s happy, excited voice.

"Uh, hey Grenda," Stan said, frowning slightly as he transferred the phone back to his other ear. "You, uh, doing okay over there?"

"YES!" said Grenda. "WE ARE HAVING FUN AT MY SLEEPOVER!" Stan was forced to hold the phone a few inches away from his ear. Hell. Even without his hearing aid, he’d think she was loud.

"Oh yes, very much fun!" he heard next when he brought it back to his ear, as apparently Candy took over the receiver for a minute, and something really wasn’t right here. He tried to push down on a rising panic.

"Uh huh," said Stan, starting to frown. "You two maybe wanna put Mabel on? Need to talk to her." At the long delay, he started to get a bad feeling. He straightened in place and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Or, y’know, maybe _Dipper_ could come to the phone instead. Let you girls get on right back to it."

"Oh! Uh, haha, he can’t!" he heard Candy say far _far_ too nervously. "I mean, they can’t! They are in the middle of a party game! For sleepovers!" she chattered at him, and Stan was quickly losing his patience with them both, his hand starting to tighten around the receiver.

" _Where are they_ ," Stan demanded, because there was really only one reason that these two would be covering for the kids, and that was if they were doing something… something...

Oh, shit.

"AAAAH WE KNOW NOTHING!" "--Hang up the phone! Quickly!" he heard from the other end, and then a click. Stan stood there, listening to the dial tone for a while in shock before he closed his eyes and growled before slamming the phone back down onto the receiver. "Stupid… always going out and…" He muttered, passing a hand over his face. Because _of course_ the twins had gone off to do something without telling him! They couldn’t go a day without having some sorta crazy weird misadventure.

"...Stanley?" Ford said slowly.

The worst part was, Stan even had the edges of some idea of what it might be: Bill. Bill had hurt Ford, and the kids had probably wanted to do something about it. It probably hadn’t looked like Stan had been doing anything to them, so they’d just gone off and decided to do _whatever_ they were doing right now, same way that they’d gone behind his back with the decaf coffee a couple of weeks ago. Damnit. Damnit!

"Okay." Stan said. "Okay." He pulled in a breath. "It’s fine. Just gotta find them." Find them before they did something _completely_ stupid and broke the damn agreement. When Stan got his hands on those two, he was gonna have them scrubbing the visitor bathrooms of the Mystery Shack for a _week_. They weren't stupid; the two of them should _know_ better. --What the hell were they thinking!

"You don’t know where they are," Stan heard Ford say slowly, and with almost no expression to his tone. Stan dropped his hand to look over at his brother, who had a dawning look of horror going on. Shit. "They _said_ they were gonna be with their friends," Stan told him. "Figures they wanted to sneak off. --Kids, am I right?" Stan tried to wave off, trying to downplay it, even though he didn't feel that way about it himself. Ford didn’t say anything, but Stan saw _something_ ticking through his brother’s head. "...Ford?"

He didn’t have a chance to stop his brother before Ford whirled in place and started running up the stairs. Stan bolted after him, but he wasn’t fast enough, not by a longshot. It was all he could do to keep up with him enough to watch as Ford barreled down the upstairs hallway and _straight past_ the niblings bedroom. --Shit, shit, _shit!!_

"FORD!!" he yelled out -- but it was too late, and he was literally _drowned out_ by Ford screaming at the top of his lungs as he barreled his way up the final flight of staircase, "-- _ **BILL!!!**_ "

\--And came to an abrupt and clanging halt as he slammed head-first straight into the barrier up there and tumbled right back down, halfway down that last set of stairs again before he managed to drag himself to a halt, shaking and panting. There was about a three second pause, as Ford dizzily tried to get his bearings again after damn near concussing himself on the flat barrier-ward thing Bill had put across the top of that opening (Stan had to admit, the kid knew his stuff), and Stan, panting, finally physically caught up to his idiot brother. (At which point, Stan put a hand on his _genius_ brother's shoulder and tried to get a good look at his head, to make sure he really _hadn't_ just given himself a concussion.)

A small head poked past the edge of the stairs and looked down at them. "Uh…" Miz blinked. "Does this mean we can come down now?" Ford stared up at her in something of a different kind of horror, and before Stan could tell her _‘No!’_ there was a soft yelp and Miz was pulled back through the opening.

Bill stomped his way down the stairs instead.

...Or at least, he tried to. The minute his feet passed the black made-of-deep-shadows looking barrier, Ford’s expression turned to one of rage, and he shrugged off Stan's grip, reached out himself--

\--and grabbed Bill by the ankle, to _drag_ him down the stairs the rest of the way pretty damn unceremoniously, to let go of him only to re-grab him by the arms and shove himself to his feet. He yanked Bill up along with him, to _**slam**_ the demon up against the side wall of the staircase instead.

" _Where are Dipper and Mabel!!_ " Ford screamed out at the kid, right into his face, and… the kid just blinked up at him, looking confused.

And then the kid looked to Stan.

"Don’t look at _him_ to _**lie for you again!**_ " Ford yelled out at him, pulling Bill forward and slamming him back up against the side wall again, which left Bill gritting his teeth, but not doing much else. "WHERE ARE THEY?!" Ford was shaking by this point, and looked two seconds away from completely losing it. " _What_ did you DO to _them?!?!_ "

"Um…" Miz poked her head back out, "I thought they went to their friends’ for a sleepover?"

"Pretty sure that they could’ve just called on the phone if they wanted to check that," Bill gritted out, looking none too happy with Ford right now, who was gripping him by the upper arms rather tightly. "You try her cellphone?" Bill drawled out slowly as if he were calling them idiots without actually _saying_ it.

Stan winced.

"Fine," Bill said, trying to reach back for his back shorts-pocket.

Stan stared as Ford actually let go of the one arm to let Bill do it.

Then Stan wondered if Ford was going to just rip it away from him and toss it down the hallway once he had it out, but he didn’t. They all just watched as Bill huffed out a breath, hit a few buttons on the phone screen, and held up the phone to his ear.

They all froze in place when they heard a musical ringtone sound from down the hallway.

Stan turned to look at the closed door of the nibling’s bedroom. Ford, looking grim, and still plenty freaked out, still gestured with his head towards the door. (He didn’t move from his spot, or let go of his hold on Bill.)

Bill was frowning. Stan didn’t blame him. Stan already had a bad feeling, as he walked down the hallway and knocked on the kids’ door.

"Kids?" Stan tried. No answer. He knocked on the door. "I’m coming in." And he opened the door.

And they weren’t there. But the phone was.

Stan walked over at looked down at it. It was just sitting there on the dresser. Wasn’t even plugged in; Stan picked it up and checked the screen. Mabel hadn’t just left it because the power was low, which meant she’d left it behind deliberately.

He looked around. No note, and no adventuring backpacks, so they must have...

Stan made his way around the room, searching for clues, checking over the desktops, under the beds, Dipper's string diagram thing up on the wall in case he'd left something obvious, the closet… 

...and he froze in place after opening the closet to look for missing boots and coats. The backpacks were _there_ , along with their walkie-talkies.

Stan felt a chill go down his spine.

He walked out of the room, cell phone in hand, and turned to face the three of them.

"...Do you want me to Look for them?" Miz called down the hallway, assuming that the kids weren’t there.

"Find them," Stan told the kid, his sister, he didn’t care which. "I don’t care what you have to do, just find them." The kid’s eyes went wide.

"Stan, _no_ ," Ford said, in tones approaching horror, as Stan stomped his way back over to them.

"I. Don’t. Care." Stan told his brother. "The kids come first. _Let him go._ "

Ford shivered in place under Stan’s glare, but he didn’t let go.

"--He doesn’t have to." Stan stopped, and he turned to look down at the kid, because had he really just said-- "Let go. He can hold on. I can walk like this." Bill said with a level tone, too flat and calm to be comforting.

...Shit. How bad did it have to be that the kid was trying to offer suggestions, here?

"Fine," said Stan. "You--"

"--No, _Stan_ , that's what he _w_ \--" Ford cut himself off as Stan swung his gaze back over to him. Ford looked pale. "--I can scan for them using the equipment in my lab," Ford blurted out almost frantically. "You _don’t_ have to--!"

"We don’t got time for this--" Stan said hotly.

"Time isn’t a problem--" Bill began.

The argument was interrupted by the sounds of clattering and a heavy THUMP along the side of the Shack. As if… someone had just thrown themselves out the _window?_ There was a frozen instant of time in which the two men and one demon all turned their heads as one and stared back up the stairs.

And then Bill snarled and shoved himself out of Ford’s hold -- surprising the hell out of Ford, who hadn’t expected that level of strength outta the kid, because he didn’t know about the thing Bill was wearing yet -- and the kid ran back up the stairs like the place was on fire, disappearing into the gloom as he crossed the threshold of the attic barrier before Ford could grab him again.

...Not that Ford _tried_ , since apparently his brother was too busy _staring_ at the bodysuit that the kid had apparently decided to show off all-at-once **now** for a couple seconds there, just as soon as he'd gotten Ford off of him.

\---

Miz crawled towards the edge of the barrier. Ow. She was pretty sure the legs of her vessel were broken. It hurt. A lot. But she’d had worse. She pulled herself across and flicked the cuffs off, Scanning immediately for any sign of the kids.

Bill caught up to her quickly and half-lifted her up. "DON’T DO THAT!!" he just about shrieked out at her, as he practically forcibly shoved a self-recovery spell at and around her like a blanket. He _almost_ forced it in, but stopped _just_ short of that, giving her a chance to throw it off if she **really** didn't want it -- not that he wouldn’t yell at her for it if she DID decide to make that really IDIOTIC choice instead.

Miz twitched. She accepted the spell and winced as her legs made snapping sounds and twisted back into place. "I lightened my weight before I jumped…" she groaned, her eyes Flickering rapidly. She couldn’t just remove her weight or she’d have floated away.

"LIGHTENING isn’t REMOVING," Bill told her, dropping down to the ground with her once her bones were finished straightening out, and not-quite hugging her close. He held her in his lap. "GRAVITY is still A THING here." He started stroking her hair. (She had _damaged_ herself, what was she _thinking_ , she was supposed to be able to filter _out_ emotions now, she shouldn’t have had to jump out of the _window_ to get _away_ from them--)

"Ah… I thought it would be good enough… I thought it would be the quickest way out of the barrier. Didn't want to have to go around and past Ford." Miz continued Flickering through every Eye she could find around the town and then some.

" _Run the calculations first!_ " Bill all but snarled out at her, then decided that stroking her hair probably wasn’t getting the point across -- probably the WRONG message. So he started penalizingly _mussing-up her hair_ again, **drastically**. She whined for awhile, until Bill figured that she’d probably gotten his point and stopped the mussing for holding a hand on top of her head instead, breathing heavily still as he held her close. (She wasn’t going _anywhere_ , as far as he was concerned.)

Stan and Ford came out the side door of the house shortly after that. Stan almost crossed the barrier, but got yanked back right before he did by Ford’s iron grip around his arm. (Stan tossed his brother an annoyed look; to Ford, it was clear that he hadn’t seen and wasn’t checking for the magic-suppressing bracelets -- which Ford had spotted immediately, that were lying on the grass instead of around the demon’s wrists.)

Miz slumped over, groaning. "They went to Spec’s place… I can’t See anything inside that… stupid barrier…" She blinked and then let out a frustrated groan and changed her Search functions to be Feeling instead of Seeing. Specifically, Feeling the flow of Reality around the mansion. She didn’t See _how_ they did it, but she _did_ notice their Soul-signatures slip out and away and… "They’re in ANOTHER DIMENSION?!" she cried.

Stan saw both Bill’s and Ford’s expressions drop. " _What?!_ " said Ford, looking panicked. (Stan opened his mouth, about to tell his brother to let the demon kid finish--)

Bill went the angry route instead, letting go of Miz (touch was too distracting) and opening his own Eye. (Stanley had given him blanket permission for ANYTHING earlier, and that meant _anything weird_. And Stanley hadn’t rescinded it yet.)

"TIME TAPE?! What the hell were they THINKING?!" Miz rolled around on the ground (she would freak out about touching the dirty grass and dirt later, but she was too annoyed right now). "Broken Time Tape as well?!" She finally spotted the twins in the other dimension, no mystic barriers to keep her gaze away there!

Bill gritted his teeth as a gash on his forehead opened up and started bleeding. Ford stared openly as he saw dark red, angry-looking lines start to emerge on Bill’s forehead as well, ones that were nearly the color of Dipper’s own birthmark-lines. And the shape of the combination of them was… it almost looked like...

Ford stopped breathing and just stared, eyes wide.

Bill shuddered and closed his own Eye. Bill didn’t exactly appreciate the, "You’re getting worse, kid," he got out of Stanley for his efforts either, as Bill bent over where he was seated slightly.

"I’m _fine_ ," Bill spat out at them, but Ford could see very well with his own two eyes that that was a lie. That, no, Bill wasn’t fine. He saw it, even as Bill seemed to grit his teeth and cast a spell on himself to handwave away the worst of the blood from his face. Ford rejected the lie, as he watched the spell bring down the almost angry-look of the swelling across Bill’s forehead, of what (had) looked (...while it was there...) _horrifyingly_ -similar to the symbol of the Society of the Blind Eye.

An open eye, with one gash from upper right to lower-left… and only the one gash, not a second one, not two. Had Stanley recognized it? (Had Fiddleford seen it before? ‘ _When gravity falls and earth becomes sky…_ ’)

Blood from the gash had been dripping directly into Bill’s right eye, staining it red and then dripping down further like bloody tears, as he’d been… as Bill had been trying to... Ford reached up a hand to his own right eye. (--That wasn’t justice.)

( _...What would happen if Stanley punched Bill again?_ )

This wasn’t right. None of this was right. (Ford shook his head in disbelief and let go of his hold on Stanley. Stanley moved forward and crouched down on the ground next to Bill. Stan reached out with a hand to touch and lift Bill’s chin, firmly but gently, to get a good look at… something that was no longer there. ...And Bill didn’t resist the motion.)

Miz didn’t see Bill’s bleeding when it happened, since she had been too focused on watching the twins’ every move within the other dimension. "They… they’re trying to stop the science fair project from being broken…" she murmured as she stared.

"Idiots," Bill spat out. "They think I’m STUPID!" He pulled his chin away from Stanley’s touch to glare up at Ford. "This is YOUR fault. They think I’M stupid, because YOU think I’m stupid!" Bill raged out at him, as the triangle demon ( _his own personal nightmare_ ) stood up to face him. Ford shook his head, not understanding (‘ _why would Bill say that? I don’t think Bill is…_ ’) -- and Stan got in-between them. Stan physically stood up between them, with his back to Ford, and it left Ford flinching and almost taking a step back.

"Bill," Stan said, holding up his hands, palms outward. " _Kid_. Break it down for me here. What happened, are the kids okay, and _what the hell did they do_."

Bill fumed where he stood in place, looking incensed.

"Those idiots thought they could go back in time and stop the stupid broken science fair project!" Miz answered instead, still staring off into the distance. "Thought it would stop Ford from ever going to Gravity Falls." As if something that HUGE wouldn’t have caused all SORTS of catastrophic effects if they had actually done it!

"But it didn’t work," Stan said slowly. "They ain’t actually here." He looked at Bill. "You said they’re in--"

"--another dimension, _yes_ ," Bill confirmed. He’d Seen it, too. "Because they think I’m stupid and _didn’t_ lock down the timestream once I got here!" Bill spat out. "As if I’d make such a STUPID mistake when there’s even a TIME BABY here to try and _get in my way!!!_ "

"They can’t undo anything," Ford murmured, feeling faint as he realized... "We can’t _undo_ anything." It had been a longshot idea of the kids, one of many, but...

"--Though at least that _stupid lizard_ actually did its job _right_ for once," Bill said. "When they bounced, it spun up a whole new dimension for them to land in, almost the same as THIS one." The kid looked even more angry about this for some reason.

"Do I even wanna know?" Stan prompted him, figuring it was better to let the kid get it all out now, instead of later when...

" _ **I WASN’T THERE!**_ " Bill blasted out angrily. "It _just made_ that dimension! --It put a bunch of _stupid_ things in place so things would turn out the _same way_ even though _I_ didn’t do them, and--" the kid was shaking with rage and… something else. Shit. Stan actually _got_ that one. --Kid had been replaced. That had to be an ego bruising for the demon, thinking that he wasn’t ‘needed’ for anything. (Heh.) "--And the _only_ way that anything WEIRD would have happened there was if it _connected_ the stupid thing to MY ‘Nightmare Realm’!" Bill complained about next, starting to flail and pace. " _Do_ you have ANY IDEA how much more QUICKLY the place is going to COLLAPSE after this? NOW? After how much weirdness doing that ALL-AT-ONCE must have _DRAINED out of it?!_ " he demanded out of Stanley, stopping right in front of his face, chest heaving from the exertion of being so damn pissed off about everything and life in general right now.

"Nope," Stan said, crossing his arms. "Why don’t you tell me." (Hell, it was taking all he had to try and look three kinds of stoic, and _not_ start laughing so flipping hard right now…)

"It’s going to COLLAPSE in TEN MILLION YEARS!" Bill screamed out, flailing his arms up and down at his sides (a bunch of times, kid was gonna wear himself out, he kept this up, heh). "I SHOULD HAVE HAD _AT LEAST_ ANOTHER SEVEN BILLION MORE YEARS THAN THAT!!!"

Ford was staring. Stan could feel it. ( _So_ damn hard not to laugh.) Miz was trying very hard to look sympathetic. It WAS a very short amount of time, for immortals like them, but it was a long time from the human’s point of view.

"Uh huh," Stan said. "That sounds like a problem for later."

"YES, IT’S--" Bill stopped cold and stared at him. "...What?"

"That sounds like a problem _for later_ ," Stan stressed, looking down at the kid. "Pretty sure that the kids coming first means a _LOT_ sooner than ten million **years** ," he told the kid. " _Right?_ "

The kid’s arms fell to his sides, hands dangling.

"Right," Stan said, lifting a hand to drop it on top of the kid’s head. "Good talk."

The kid lifted a hand to his face and practically slapped it across his eyes, making a ‘tsssssst’ sort of cicada-like sound. (It sounded like he was very, _very_ annoyed with him just then. Heh.)

"...Stanley?" Ford said softly behind him, and Stan had to drop the hand he had on the kid and turn towards him. "Kid’s made a portal before, Ford," Stan reminded him. "He can do it again. We’ll get ‘em back. It’s fine."

"Ooh! Can I make this one?" Miz raised her hand. Stan turned back around and blinked at her. "Uh," Stan said. "You make ‘em the same way?" Stan asked her. "Kid’s pretty picky about energy stuff." Had the kid even _talked_ about portal-making stuff with her before? Stan glanced over at Bill; the kid looked kind of like a wreck in progress, and Stan made a split-second decision: "Probably would be better if you did it, though. Don’t want him havin’ to use that Eye of his more than he really needs to, ‘til it’s all healed up."

Miz stared as she finally noticed. "哥哥! What happened to your--"

"--I’m-fine," Bill said quickly, looking vaguely embarrassed (and maybe a little ashamed, with the way the kid raised his hand up a bit further to cover his forehead slightly). Kid’s cheeks definitely turned ever so _very_ slightly pink as the kid refused to meet her eyes.

"I punched him," Stan told her. "Straight in the eye, for messin’ with my family." He was completely unrepentant; the kid had deserved it (and by this point, Stan had made sure that the kid damn well _knew_ it).

Miz blinked slowly, rubbing her own forehead. "...oh…" She shook her head and turned to raise her hands into the air, pulling Space open into the desired shape, setting her entry point.

"--Stop," Stan said quickly. Miz stopped. "You didn’t answer my question, Miz," he told her. "Can you make ‘em the same way as the kid does it? Yes or no?"

Miz looked over to Bill and Flickered, looking up how Blue had done it when he met that purple version of Bill… how he’d opened a portal with the intent to throw that square in and away from him and this dimension. Huh, that seemed like a funny story for her to spend more time looking up later. She tilted her head. "Yes." she said simply.

"Okay," said Stan. "Bill." He turned to the kid. "Do you trust her to do it the same way as you?" Stan asked next.

"...Yes," Bill said.

"Okay, I hear ya," Stan told him. He pulled in a breath, and looked over at Ford. "Anything we need for jumping dimensions that I don’t know about?" They’d used Ford’s infinite belt rope thing last time, but they’d both just gone in with what they’d had on them.

Ford looked between them all. "You aren't going anywhere without me," Ford said quietly, looking suspicious as all get-out to Stan, if not halfway to paranoid.

...Well, shit, Stan hadn’t been trying to get rid of him, so they could all jump out when he wasn’t looking or nothing. Not that he’d ever be able to convince his brother of that, at the rate he was going with him. "...Fine," Stan grunted out. "No supplies, it is. --Miz, go ahead, yeah?"

Miz scoffed. "Alright, Ford’s gonna need to come closer though."

Ford didn’t look very happy at this pronouncement. "Why," Ford said -- not asking, _demanding_.

"Because I don’t want you getting left behind or lost on the way through," Miz told him, rolling her eyes, DUH. Ford didn’t look any happier about any of this, but he did step forward.

Miz formed the portal, frowning in concentration as she did so, link up the entry and exit, make it clear and stable so they didn’t end up in the wrong dimension. She turned to look back at Ford (who had his face set in a determined expression that was...actually really hot, god damn) and Stan (who looked like he just wanted to smack both the kids upside their heads). "Ok, I think we should hold hands so we don’t get separated," she pointed out. Would suck if she had to keep track of MORE wayward idiots.

Ford looked offended by Miz’s request, but grit his teeth and held out his hand. Stan held onto his brother with one hand and the kid’s with another. The kid didn't quite twitch as he took Stan's hand, but the kid almost immediately took and held his sister’s hand, glaring at the both of them like he thought the other two men might try and touch her. Ford looked like he'd rather kiss a moose, and Stan himself nearly rolled his eyes. ...Right, kid. Sure.

"Should’ve just formed it under all of our feet," Bill muttered as he looked at the portal, with something of an evil glint in his eye, before looking over to his sister.

"I’ll keep that in mind for the return trip." She grinned with a smile that... looked like it was making Ford uneasy, as Stan glanced between them, unamused at the banter. (The kids had better be alright…)

"Really?" Bill said, all demonic-innocence, as they all started to walk (in their ‘chain’-line) towards the opening. "You mean you don’t know how to drag around space-time to do that _right now?_ "

Ford suddenly looked alarmed, for reasons Stan did _not_ understand. " _Bill_ ," Ford began, "Don’t you _dare_ \--"

"Meh, I can add a slide to it and everything," Miz said, looking down, and suddenly the ground seemed to dip, except the ground hadn’t moved or changed. … _Space_ did? (What the--)

Stan’s eyes went wide behind his glasses, and Ford angrily screamed out an alien curse as his feet were no longer on solid ground -- and they all PLUMMETED. Miz was squealing with laughter like this was a roller coaster -- then again, she’d once played chicken with a black hole so...

Stan barely had a chance to breathe before they all shot out onto some sand in a messy tumble, losing hold of each other completely. He finally rolled to a stop, staring up at the bright blue sky, and just… what the _hell_...

"This is why I _**hate**_ sideways portals!" Stan heard Ford snap out, except he'd sounded pretty muffled or something for the first bit of that. Stan slowly levered himself up on an elbow, to see his brother just… sitting in the sand next to him, looking seven kinds of disturbed and messy, with his hair all out of whack and sand just _plastered_ all across his face. (No kick-ass sci-fi owl here.)

Stan’s mouth dropped open slightly, and couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. He managed to stop after Ford shot him a frustrated _look_. ...for maybe a couple of seconds, before he started chuckling at his brother again. (Ford really couldn't take going through a portal _messily?_ Really?) Miz was half buried under some sand, kicking her legs in the air and laughing with pure delight. If Stan didn’t know she was a billions year old demon he might have even found it cute.

Stan finally caught sight of Bill. The kid wasn’t laughing; he hadn’t the whole trip (and wasn’t that weird?). The kid was just lying on the sand, belly-first, with his arms pillowed under his chin, smiling and watching them all.

"Fun?" the kid asked, looking much too smug.

"-- _NOT FUN!!!_ " Ford bellowed out at him furiously, startling Stan a bit. The kid looked like he’d expected that response though, because the kid just sighed a bit and his chin slid down a bit lower on his arms, as Ford huffily got to his feet and started wiping himself off with almost-offended-looking jolts of motion.

Stan slowly got up too with a sigh, brushing himself off a lot more casually. So the kid had wanted to take his brother down a peg with a prank, after thinking Ford had been calling him stupid behind his back to the niblings or somethin’, for them trying to pull this time-travel shit. Okay. Not like anybody got hurt. (Hell, Stan had half a mind to toss a handful of sand into Ford’s hair himself.)

"So… we should probably go find the twins before they do something even stupider than they’ve already done." Miz finally got up and flick-cleaned herself of all the sand and dirt. She even cleaned off the blood that had soaked through her dress from her broken legs.

Stan glanced down at her as she cleaned up. He hadn’t asked before because she’d seemed fine by the time he’d gotten outside, and the kid hadn’t been yelling anymore. Stan was about to ask _now_ , though, because--

...except the breeze picked up a bit for a moment, Stan finally got a good whiff of the air, and it really _hit_ him.

Stan looked around and stared. This was… Glass Shard Beach. In 1971. Shit.

He tensed in place and looked over at Ford. His brother seemed to have no problem with it, until he looked over at him, and then _he_ froze in place for a moment, too.

"Uh," Stan said. "Yeah." And Stan saw a _lot_ of emotions run across his brother’s face in that moment, but what it finally settled on was… resignment. And determination.

"Let’s go get the kids," his brother told Stan, turning away from him and starting to walk off, then stopping short.

Stan glanced around, wondering what was wrong _now_... and noticed the same problem that Ford had:

"Where are the demons?"

\----

Bill, not quite growling to himself, was floating forward at full-speed-ahead -- _just_ magic, no physical aides -- with Miz in-tow, invisibility surrounding them. They didn’t have _time_ for this. (He wished she'd gotten them there a bit earlier, and a bit closer than she had, but details. She was young. --This was fine. They just had to _rush_ there a little bit, in order to AVOID...)

"Should we really be leaving them behind?" Miz asked quietly. She hoped these idiots didn’t do something stupid.

"I am _not_ putting up with any more of their _idiotic_ complaining, _or_ their lack of speed," Bill told her tersely and succinctly. Walking would take FOREVER (read: FAR too long), that Stanford would _not_ want any spells cast on him or Stanley, there would be all sorts of fighting if he just cast things without asking (or even brought up the possibility)...

Miz nodded, understanding his point. "Well, the kids are…" She Flickered. "Trying to find their way around." They’d gotten pretty far from the entry point she’d observed for them earlier.

"They’ll be headed for the pawn shop," Bill told her. "So will the two idiots we just left behind. _Eventually._ "

They floated up higher, over the buildings, and even though they made a beeline for it, they only caught sight of Dipper and Mabel just as the twins made a rush for the front door of Pines Pawns, and--

\----

Ford sighed as he pulled the door closed behind them, and stepped down onto the sidewalk, following his twin. ...And then he nearly ran into the back of him, because Stanley had stopped walking _forward_ for some reason.

"Lee?" he asked, backing up a step and adjusting his glasses. He peered around the side of his brother, to look down at the two… wide-eyed children in front of them?

"Ohmygosh, it’s really you!" enthused the younger girl. "You’re both so _CUTE!_ "

Ford blinked at this, and colored slightly. He wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed… or embarrassed. Because… somebody thought he was _cute?_ Who wasn’t his mother?

The boy -- who was standing next to the girl -- was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath, and Ford frowned as he took a step to the side and forward, to come up in line with his brother’s shoulder. There was something _odd_ about the boy's clothing… the cut of it was a bit…?

And then he and his brother both startled in place as a pair of older female teenagers appeared out of _literally **nowhere**_ RIGHT in front of them (‘ _and just behind the other two children_ ’, Ford noted to himself, for completeness in his scientific observations).

"GOTCHA!" yelled the older one (who looked maybe around their age), grabbing each of the children in front of them by a shoulder, and startling an "AAAH!" out of the both of them. "You two! Are in SO much trouble!" the younger one (who seemed either 13 or 14 in age from her height) huffed out at them. "Your grunkles were WORRIED sick!"

Ford glanced over at his brother, who looked just as confused as he was.

"Oh _no_ ," the younger boy breathed out. "No no -- you can’t _stop_ us!" he yelled out as he tried to jerk away from the… blue-haired girl? Ford stared, and then he stared some more, eyes widening, because _her eyes_ were--

"HA!" yelled the cat-eyed girl. "STOP you! HAHAHAHAHA!" she laughed out, then went from laughing hysterically to looking downright _mean_ and narrowed-eyed in less than a second, getting down in the younger boy’s face. "You _moron_ ," she told him. "You don’t even know where you _are_."

"Hey…" Stan said next to him, starting to gear up for a fight against… a bully? Ford shifted in place. He was used to letting his brother read the mood for these things, but even he could tell that this was pretty darn off.

"This isn’t even the right DIMENSION!" the asian-looking girl scolded. And that made Ford’s eyebrows rise. ‘ _Dimension?_ ’ he wondered. (He felt Stan straighten next to him, almost a question, and realized that he’d done the same thing before his brother had. Ford tried to settle back on his heels again, but--)

" _\--What?!_ " both of the younger children exclaimed, looking a little shocked. "KIDS!!" they heard someone yell out from farther down the street, and the four newcomers all turned to look that way.

"哥哥’s not STUPID," the black haired girl muttered. "He locked down your timeline. No changes. So you two got shunted off to a parallel dimension instead." Ford was glancing between the teenagers and kids in front of him, and the two old men jogging down the street towards all of them, trying to keep track of everything that was going on in this strange and crazy, wonderful--

"...Aw hell," his brother muttered, and then Ford saw what he did -- three of the local cops chasing after the _old men_. All of them paused to stare at the scene of the old men trying to outrun the cops.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," he heard the boy in front of him mutter, grabbing at his hat. "-- _DON’T YOU HAVE ANY SMOKE BOMBS?!_ " was the yelled-out cupped-hand contribution of the blue-haired girl to the old men, before she turned back to the two kids and told them, "YOU. Are going to be _penalized_. SO badly. Once we get back." The threat of which was apparently enough to make both of them wince and glare.

"We’re not going _anywhere_ with y--" the boy in front of them began to say, but his speech of rebellion was cut-off when the blue-haired girl let go and took a step back--

\--and the grey-haired old man (finally reaching their group) literally plucked him up off of his feet and under an arm as he ran by _without stopping_ and threw something down at the ground behind him (in front of Ford and his twin) as he went.

And then there was smoke **everywhere**.

And coughing.

...And some cursing by his brother, as they both tried to wave the stuff away, but Stan's annoyed cursing at a smoky mess was just about the _only_ normal thing about this whole situation!

When the smoke mostly cleared a couple of seconds later, there was his brother, three policemen, and... the less-grey of the two old men standing in front of him, coughing.

" _Ford, you idiot! It works better when you keep running!!_ " Ford heard the older man yell out (from a great deal farther away than he’d expected to see), as the older man kept booking it down the street (a small child slung under each arm), and he saw the two older teens following in-- it was either hot pursuit, or camaraderie and kinship, and... _why_ had that man thought _he_ was supposed to run along with him? He hadn’t been running in the first place?

"Ah," said the old man in front of him. "Yes. Right," he said, looking a bit off-put as he gave a final cough (from the smoke?) and looked behind him at the three cops. "Well." The remaining old man straightened slightly in place and cleared his throat carefully, then said, "I don't suppose--"

The cops sprung.

...Not a single one of them touched him.

Ford was staring right at the man, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he did it, sort of a bunch of leaping, tumbling off of _people and pushing and shoving and just-- just--_

__

__

" _Meet you at the_ \--" Ford heard the other guy call out as skidded to a stop right in front of an approaching police car and headed for a side street, instead. The teenagers were cackling wildly as they followed, clearly finding this whole situation HILARIOUS.

"-- _Yes, yes_ ," the other old man called back unhurriedly and without concern, as he finally _bodychecked_ a fourth cop who’d shown up out of nowhere and took off into the distance, _jumping **moving** cars_, running away on his own route, with several _more_ cops now in pursuit.

"...Holy shit," Ford heard his brother breathe out, from where his back was plastered back against the door of the shop behind them -- just as Ford had done himself, in trying to stay out of the way. "Holy _shit_."

Ford blinked at his twin. "...Was that good boxing technique?" was all Ford could think to ask of his brother, as Stanley, wide-eyed, turned towards him.

"Are you seriously _kidding_ me right now, Sixer?" was what he got in response.

Ford adjusted his glasses. "Is that a yes, or a no?" he asked his twin curiously, really not knowing, and in response to this Stan _groaned_ , running a hand across his face.

\--and then they both fell backwards as the door behind them opened up.

They both yelled as they went down, and then both found themselves staring up at their mother from the floor. She, herself was staring down at them with no small bit of consternation in return.

"What was all that commotion out here?" she asked them. "You two do something wrong?" she narrowed her eyes at the two of them, both. She loved her boys but they were such… free spirits. (And troublemakers, to boot.)

They both looked at each other. They both looked up at her.

"No ma’am," they chorused at her, Stan looking a bit shifty regardless, and Ford was clutching his book bag to his chest (which he still hadn’t quite gotten a chance to shoulder yet, with all the commotion that had happened before he’d even properly stepped out onto the sidewalk).

...They were both out on the sidewalk again in short order.

\---

"So, uh, school?" Ford’s twin asked of him not that much later, thumbing his way in the direction of where they needed to go, and both looking and sounding a little weirded out that his twin brother was standing in the middle of the sidewalk only about three feet from the school entrance and not taking a single step forward.

Ford bit his lip as he stared sightlessly at the building face that rose up in front of him, his mind completely and entirely elsewhere.

"Y’know, school?" Stan told him. "That thing that you like to do? ‘Cause you never want to skip?" ...Oh, how his brother was good at reading his moods. And looking _very_ weirded out, now -- likely because _he_ was the one to always skip, and he’d _never_ gotten Ford to agree to go with him yet, and Ford...

"Stanley," Ford breathed out. "That girl had eyes like a cat."

"Uh huh," Stan said slowly.

"And they were talking about other dimensions."

"...Uh huh." Stan was starting to get a bad feeling.

"And _locked down timelines_."

"......Uh huh." Make that a VERY bad feeling.

Ford looked at his brother with great expectation, for him to make the connection.

"So… school?" was what Stan said next, and Ford’s face fell.

"-- _Stanley!!_ " Ford objected.

" _What?_ " Stan objected right back, turning around to face him. "Those guys had _the cops_ after ‘em. --And not in the ‘hey, I’m gonna run you outta this theater for sneaking in again’ way!" They’d been actually trying to HIT the guys, from the looks of things. (And Stan was pretty sure he’d seen one of them go for their gun before he’d gotten flipped _straight_ into the pavement…)

Ford gave him a _look_.

"I am _not_ passing this up, Stanley," he told his brother firmly, and his twin took one look at him and gave a deep sigh.

"Ma is gonna blame _me_ for this," Stan said dourly, as he turned right back around and walked back out onto the sidewalk to stand next to his brother, _outside_ the concrete courtyard of the school. "--What?" Stan said at the look he got. "You don’t know what you’re doing, and we are _so_ gonna get caught."

"Stanley," Ford told him, as he gave his brother something of an olive branch… and also said the absolutely most subversive thing that he knew he could utter to him in that moment, which was to say: " _Adventure_."

Stan’s eyes lit up and he pulled in a sharp breath. He couldn’t help it. ...Then Stan shook his head and then glared at his brother, _knowing_ **exactly** what he was doing -- but it didn’t matter, Ford grinned right back at him because his twin knew he already _had_ him.

Ford pushed again anyway with: "And babes."

That got a snort out of Stan. "Yeah, yeah. There was ONE babe. The other two are kinda young." That blue haired girl _was_ kinda cute, he'd admit that much. Freaky cat-eyes and all.

"Okay," said Stan, as they began to walk off. "So, where do we start _lookin’_ for ‘em?" Because hey, if he was in, then he was all-in.

Ford grinned.

...and then they both weren’t grinning for a bit, because they were more focused on running, instead -- one of the teachers had spotted them at the edge of the courtyard and had run out after them.

Ford knew his brother’s next words to him were going to be a ‘told you’ once they lost the teacher in the back-alleys and they both got their breath back, but it was still going to be _so_ worth it. --He had _so_ many questions for those people!

\---

(Miz POV)

Ok, so... I knew that this was a different dimension and all, but I probably should have thought about that more. Specifically about the whole, ‘revealing that we're from another dimension’ just casually in front of the native Stan and Ford. --In my defense, I had wanted to scold the kids and let them know how STUPID they had been.

In my condemnation, it was hilarious and I wanted to see their reactions.

Oops?

So while we all ran away from the cops (how the fuck did Stan get the popo after him in the...10 minutes we've been apart anyway?!) I was giggling to myself at the looks on their faces. Ah, I'm going to save the memory of that somewhere special.

Not gonna lie, I was having fun. And since we had the kids with us, there was no stress about them being in danger somewhere where we wouldn’t be able to protect them. So I laughed as we ran, angry shouts from the policemen behind us as Stan led us through multiple alleyways with the ease of old familiarity. I briefly wondered how often he’d run away from people here in his childhood town?

Bill seemed to be having fun too, if the maniacal grin on his face was any indication.

Even with the stress and worry that Stan and Ford (and me as well) had felt earlier because of the kids doing something so STUPID… I sort of wanted to thank them for allowing this nice, family adventure. When Stan inevitably punishes them with washing out the toilets or something, I’m gonna give them some Cursed scrub brushes that would get the job done faster.

Aren’t I just the nicest?

Also, those younger versions of the Stan-twins were soooo cute! Ahhhhh! Oh my gwad! So fluffy! So smol and innocent!

... would it be wrong if I wanted to keep them? Like, shrink them down and make them live in my pocket?

Probably.

But they were so adorable!!! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

~~I’m so glad everyone’s too busy scolding Mabel and Dipper to see me brainstorming about sneaking away to go and pet the two younger Stans like they were puppies!~~

\--More than that, they were still the best of friends and brothers above all! I know we came here to stop the kids from changing the ‘past’ and all that, but… could we perhaps change a few things here and there? Just so these two sweet babies don’t have a falling out and end up estranged and separated for 40+ years? That was too sad of a prospect.

... damn, now I’m thinking about my own siblings. We were all close, me and Zeon were always together up until middle/high school when she was going through her ‘edgy’ phase and didn’t want to hang out anymore with her nerdy, weird older sister. And once she got the chance to leave the house for college she was out and never wanted to move back in. ~~The empty third bed in our room a constant reminder that she wasn’t here anymore.~~ She just couldn’t live with our parents. ~~_She couldn’t be the son that Dad wanted her to be._~~ I’d missed her when she left but I understood her reasons. As for me, I’d stayed home, stayed with our parents both because I couldn’t afford an apartment ~~failure. What did you even go to college for if you won’t even find a good job to support yourself?!~~ , and I hadn’t wanted to leave Kei alone. I’d loved my parents but they hadn’t been the easiest people to be around. For a variety of reasons.

~~Mommy screaming at daddy after she found out how much money he lost betting on horse racing. Having to sell the house after we finally HAD a house for the first time in our lives. It was back to renting apartments for us. Back to a small space with not enough room for all our stuff. Loud arguments late at night while we all huddled under our covers and pretended to be asleep. Thrown items. Talks of divorce. Knowing full well that mommy didn’t make as much money as daddy did. Knowing full well that daddy had no idea how to take care of children. Being asked who we would go with if the worst happened. Knowing full well that we would be forced to choose and we wouldn’t be able to stay together. Because mommy couldn’t take all of us.~~

I hadn’t been able to stand the thought of leaving Kei alone with them as she grew up. Kei had been a teenager (going through her own angsty period) and I’d wanted to stay and make sure she would be alright. ~~Didn’t want her to listen to the yelling all alone, with no one else there to talk to, to distract from the voices barely muffled by the walls in the room across the hall.~~ Fat lot of good that did considering I got myself killed in that stupid accident.

... I hope Kei is alright. I hope she wasn’t too broken over it. I miss her so much. Ugh...

\--Anyway! Regardless, I don’t want these versions of the Stans to stop being together. They were brothers. They were family. They shouldn’t be broken apart by things outside their control! Even if the broken science fair thing was ‘canon’ and most probably a fixed point, maybe we could find a way to keep the two of them together?

If there were fanfics I’ve read where the two remained together even with that stupid science project thing happening, then there MUST be a way to stop their friendship from being destroyed along with the perpetual motion machine. There had to be!

\---

(Third person POV)

Stan panted heavily, wheezing for air. He was getting too damn old for this! They’d finally lost the cops when Miz had slapped herself on the forehead (like she’d just remembered something she’d forgotten) and then made a weird motion with her hand. --Chances were, the demon kid had done some kinda ‘notice-me-not’ sort of deal, Stan figured, since the cops had started looking confused almost immediately and went off in a different direction from them.

Well, the cops were gone now, so Stan slumped over, leaning heavily against the brick wall of the alleyway they were in. Catching his breath back, sure. (Not, y’know, worried about giving himself a heart attack or nothin’...)

Miz was breathing heavily as well, having to run twice as fast to keep up with the others. Damn them and their long legs! She groaned. "I keep… forgetting... about gravity…" she panted.

Bill grimaced. "Once I'm in charge... that won't be... an issue anymore." He wasn’t quite as winded as the others, having let his invisible bodysuit (and its exoskeleton-like enhancements) take up most of the effort for him.

Stan was still holding the kids. "You two… are both ground-ed," Stan wheezed out at the niblings. They both looked down and winced. Miz leaned over to stare at them. She opened her mouth and then closed it. Her eyes went up to Stan's face.

"Am I allowed to tell them what dumb things they did?" she asked.

"No. That's my job." Stan grumbled out, straightening and groaning at his poor, protesting back. He wasn't even fully dressed right now since they'd left on such short notice; he only had on a stained wife beater with his pants and shoes, not really a shirt. He finally placed the kids back on their feet, keeping a grip on them in case they tried to do something stupid. "As soon as we find Ford, we're going home and you two are gonna--"

Bill made an odd chittering-coughing sound, and Stan stopped in the middle of his grumpy tirade and looked over. He stopped, because he _recognized_ that sound. --The kid was trying not to laugh. Stan narrowed his eyes.

"Kid, _what did you do?_ " Stan asked, because the kid _also_ had an 'I know something you don't know’ sort of grin going on, now. Dipper and Mabel picked up on this too and the pair of them were staring at Bill with wide-eyed, wary looks.

Miz blinked before tilting her head and Flickering briefly. She snorted. "Oh. Interesting." She grinned. "You really put up defenses to keep anyone else out. Funny how my Doors got around that." It was something cool to learn.

"WhAt?" Dipper was staring at Miz (voice cracking, to his embarrassment), faltering slightly when he finally got a good look at her headband (which he hadn't seen before, with him and his sister spending most of the day with their great uncle after what had happened to him in the woods). But when he saw Bill’s grin widen, he asked her frantically, "--What did Bill do?!"

"He sealed off your dimension so no-one can portal into it except him." Miz grinned. "Which is good since it means no one else can get in." Bill looked smug, and very pleased with himself for having done this, to the rest of them. Miz thought it was very nice of Bill to protect his dimension and them from outsiders!

Mabel frowned. "But then, how did you--"

"I didn't use a portal. I used a Door." Miz said simply. The three Pines stared at her, then at Bill.

It was Dipper who put it together first. "So we need Bill's help to get back home, to our own dimension." Dipper had a look of dawning horror once he realized they were all essentially trapped here. "Well--" he was trying not to panic "--use a Door to get us home!" he not-quite demanded of her. (He and Mabel didn't know she was a Bill Cipher yet, to be more wary of asking her for things. They still only knew of her as the dragon from her last visit, who also happened to be the 'human-demon’ who Bill had been talking with online.)

Miz rolled her eyes. "My Doors only lead to Bill Cipher. It's why I keep landing around the Shack." She shrugged. "Opening a Door here would just put me right beside him again."

At that, Bill looked over and up and saw that, yes, the Door Miz had made outside his mind was still there, in the Mindscape... except now it was HERE instead of back in the other dimension. Hm. (...So her Doors followed around the Bills they led to?) _Interesting._ (And good to know!) Bill turned his attention back to what Miz was saying.

"--so even if I took you guys through into my Doors, it wouldn't get you home. And you'd probably have more issues since you'd be leaving your bodies behind HERE--"

"WHAT?!" Pinetree rudely interjected.

"--since my Doors are part of MY _Dreamscape_ , so you can only travel through them as your conscious soul/mind, and leave your physical body behind--" she waved her hands "--hence why I had to create a vessel for Seb to ‘wear’ while he was here with me last time--"

Bill tilted his head slightly. He had guessed that that might be the situation from what had happened last time (and this one) from what she'd said and done, and the confirmation was good. But, the fact that she was sharing the information with members of his Zodiac was even more interesting.

Stan was watching Miz closely. She really was a chatty one. ...Was it because she didn't care that they knew how her powers worked, or did she think it wasn't important enough to hide? (Or did she just have almost no brain-to-mouth filter, except for the idea of her sister maybe telling her not to share?) Stan watched her lecture Dipper and wasn't sure if he should stop her. It didn't seem all that bad, what she was saying, and the kids hadn't asked her to stop yet. And she wasn't talking about other dimensions, she was talking about _travelling_ to dimensions. So it was technically still within the rules.

Stan sighed. While Miz distracted the kids, he kept an eye on Bill. If the kid really **was** the only one who could portal them back home… that wasn't gonna go over well with Ford, _that_ was for sure. (Even in the dimension with the ‘anti-Bill’, the portal hadn’t closed; Bill had set it up to stay open the entire time that they’d been... ‘visiting’. Probably good that Miz hadn’t done that; the thing had closed on them after less than a minute, pretty much right after they’d been spit out onto the beach. Ford had freaked out for a minute about it -- right after realizing that the demons had vanished on them, too -- but Stan didn’t want to _think_ about the mess they’d have had on their hands if a bunch of beach tourists had caught sight of an open interdimensional portal mid-air. Probably try to get themselves a ladder and...)

"How're you doing?" Stan grunted out at the kid. Bill glanced over at him before making a scoffing noise. He didn't respond with anything more than that, so Stan threw out a, "How long?"

Bill leaned back against the brick wall. "Mm. About two days," the kid finally said. Stan closed his eyes and breathed. --Okay. Okay. That was _fine_. (Demon wasn’t playing games like Ford kept getting paranoid about, demanding things, tit for tat. You scratch my back...) Hell, they’d found the kids. The kids were safe. --the demons hadn’t even been trying to hurt ‘em; they’d really just gotten there first. And they just had to wait two days before Bill could portal them back home. ...So Stan just had to keep Ford from killing Bill before they could _get_ home, so they could all get home, and everything would be...

...wait. Hold the phone.

"Hey, kid. There any reason you can't just let your sister portal us back?" Stan asked of him. That had the kid side-eyeing him.

"Well. I _could_ set that up for her from here… tomorrow morning," the kid told him. "Unless you want me to risk permanently damaging my Eye?" Stan grimaced. Yeah, no. That’d be a recipe for the kid kicking him to the curb. "But even if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to test it properly from here," Bill told him next. "She might be able to open a portal from here-to-there after that, but _she_ might not be able to go through it _with_ us. Not without tripping something… _nasty_."

Yeah, no. Stan knew what that meant: that wasn’t happening. Kid wasn’t gonna risk his little sister. Stan frowned at him though, still kind of pissed off at the kid’s little problematic ‘surprise’. (Because Stan had seen it right away -- there was also something of a loophole in there, for another way to do it, that the kid just wasn't bringing up. So _was_ the kid playing games with him, here?)

Hell, now that he had his breath back and thought about it a little more, Stan was starting to feel more than a little suspicious about the whole thing himself, because... "You couldn’t say anything about any of this _before_ we left?" he asked of the kid, frowning.

" _WELL._ " Bill leaned back against the brick wall behind him, and almost casually crossed his arms at him. " _Someone_ didn't seem to have _time_ for anything or anyone else other than leaving _as soon as possible_ , now DID you?" Bill said lightly, giving him a long look. Stan clenched his jaw and _really_ wanted to punch the kid for that one.

("--and that’s why you should NEVER teleport while you’re drunk." Miz finished, folding her arms and nodding solemnly. Dipper and Mabel were staring at her with their mouths hanging wide open. Mabel turned to Dipper and shivered. "I’m _never_ gonna drink alcohol!" she declared. Dipper was nodding slowly with wide eyes. "How did you get your arms back?" Dipper asked. Miz sighed dramatically. "I had to regrow them. And I still don’t know where my original arms went. They’re still out there in the multiverse somewhere…" Miz gazed off into the distance. "I wonder if anyone ever found them… I made sure I was flipping the Shvoxian off before I teleported so wherever my hands are…" She giggled.)

Stan pulled in a breath, forced himself to count to five... and then sighed it all out and rubbed a hand over his face. Well, whatever. He had to get ‘em a place to stay and food to eat for the next few days. And find Ford. ...Well, meet up where he _expected_ to find Ford, anyway, and let Ford find _them_. Wasn’t like it wasn’t gonna be obvious to his twin where he’d gone. Shouldn’t be a problem.

"C’mon, the lot of ya," Stan told the gaggle of kids, demonic and otherwise. They gathered around him and then followed after him (like a little group of oversized ducklings) when he stomped off. --First off, finding and/or meeting up with Ford. Hopefully his brother hadn’t gotten himself arrested. (Ugh, that _would_ just top off the whole day...)

He led the kids towards the beach; he’d told Ford to meet him by the boat earlier if they got separated looking for the demons. ...Well, Stan was pretty sure that this still counted. Stan groaned. He was too _old_ for **adventures**!

...Except for the Stan o’ War II. The boat didn’t count.

\----

"Where are we even going, Sixer?" Stan grumbled as he followed his brother. Sure this was an **adventure** , but… they were just wandering around town and getting weird looks for playing hooky. Ford was peering into all the alleyways, looking around. Stan thought they were just wasting their time, doing that. Why search randomly when they could just make one of Sixer’s ‘estimated guesses’ instead?

"Shouldn’t we be checking down by the pier?" Stan complained, and his brother turned towards him, to adjust his glasses and look at him curiously. "I mean," Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Those cops were the beach cops, right?"

"Were they?" Ford asked, then his eyes lit up at Stan’s nod. "Ah! So you think that perhaps our strange visitors were chased away from the beach!"

_’Strange visitors’_ , right. "...Maybe?" Stan said. He wasn’t all _that_ sure about it. He just figured that was a good place to start. ...That, and, y’know, it was more fun over there, so even if they didn’t find the guys looking for them, they could still have a little fun skipping school that day, and get some grub from one of the food stands.

...aaaaaaand Ford was already racing off. Stan groaned and followed.

It wasn’t long before they saw the trash-covered beach. (It was called Glass Shard beach for a _reason_ , okay?) "Stanley! Stanley!" Ford grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him down behind a large rock. Stan stumbled and barely caught himself against the rock’s surface. _Geez_ , poindexter. the heck? "--What?"

"They’re… they’re here! By **_our_** boat!" Ford hissed, peeking up over the rock and seeing the group of potential dimensional travelers. All of them very were near to each other and either standing or seated by the side of the boat, on the same side of it.

Stan looked over as well. Yup. That was them. (Y’know, _probably_.) He squinted at them. "I can barely see them from here," he complained. (He wasn’t wearing his glasses; he wasn’t a nerd-bot like his twin. He left ‘em at home when he could get away with it, and most days he had boxing after school.)

Ford gasped. "Binoculars!" He grabbed Stan’s shoulder and shook it. "--Stan! Go get some!"

"Huh? Why me?" Stan grumbled out at his twin. "Well, I need to stay here to keep watch on them," Ford said simply, as if it were obvious.

Stan rolled his eyes, and let out a sigh. "Yeah, whatever." Sneak back into the house without their parents noticing and grabbing the binoculars before sneaking back out? ...Yeah, he could do that. He huffed out a breath when he realized that Ford, the nerd, had already turned back to stare at the group of people on their boat, who were all… talking about something. Yeah, ‘talking’. (It must have been important, ‘cause it sounded like the two old men were yelling at each other.)

Stanley sighed as he got up (then sighed again as his brother hissed out at him to ‘stay low!’ and ‘don’t break their cover!’) and made his way back across the beach, past the boardwalk, and… back to the pawnshop. (Hell, at least it was close by.),/p>

Stan snuck around the back of the house and peered in the window to check for his Ma. She would lounge around the house as she made her calls, but she usually sat by a window when she did it. (‘For inspiration.’) To Stan’s surprise though, his Ma wasn’t there. He glanced around, cupping his hands against the window. Near as he could tell, Pa wasn’t there either, even _with_ the closed sign on the front of the pawn shop. ...So his parents were out? Weird.

Well, if they weren’t there to stop him... Stan scaled the back of the house and slid the window to their bedroom open. He easily found their binoculars (they’d actually wanted telescopes, but the ones they’d tried out at the shop had made their eyes hurt after a while), slung the cord over his neck, and slipped back out of the window and down the side of the house without too much trouble. Stan briefly wondered where his parents had gone, but decided it wasn’t all that important.

\--Well, back to spying on people with his brother. Definitely not illegal.

Stan got back to his brother and just rolled his eyes at the way Ford practically strangled him with the cord, getting the thing off of his neck, and immediately started peering through them closely at the strangers. ...Well, as long as they learned anything interesting about those people who might, _possibly_ , maybe be from another dimension. Or time? Or whatever. Then…

Well, either way, Sixer had better share the binoculars with him, too!

\---

"--ou cannot _possibly_ expect us to stay here for _who knows_ how long--!" Ford raged. Stan had to hold himself back from punching his brother. Ford getting mad about normal things was a hell of a lot better than him being weird in the brain. Hell, Stan would even take it over what Ford had done before, when he’d first gotten back to them at the boat -- his brother had dropped to his knees like he had no strength left in him, looking lost and stunned (and kind of like he maybe thought he was hallucinating them again, like they’d never been real), and when the niblings had run up to him, Ford had grabbed them both up in a hug that... well…

Ford had been holding onto the niblings like the world was ending around them, while shaking like a goddamn leaf.

Stan blew out a breath, because in the face of _that_... Ford being a little (hell, a _lot_ ) mad at him about all this was fine. "--Two days," Stan told his brother. "That's it. --It’s not a big deal." Because to Stan, it wasn’t. Not like he didn’t have skills. Worst-case... "We’re together, we can hit the motel strip, find a room," Stan was pretty sure he could sweet-talk somebody into letting him have a room for ‘two nights’ (and skip out after just one) if he had to, find somebody who’d take pity on ‘an old man who’d gotten mugged’ and lost his wallet, waiting on the bank for new ID or some kinda stupid sob story... "-and just wait for Bill to recover." Said demon was sitting in the sand, watching his little sister build a sand castle. Mabel had joined in to help Miz with it after a while, smiling. Dipper was leaning up against the side of the boat, twitching and tapping his fingers against this arms and doing his best to not start pacing, trying not to stress out. (Stan appreciated it. Dipper getting any more twitchy would probably just set Ford off even worse.)

"We should have a moat." Mabel declared. Miz shrugged. "We don’t have any alligators though." The girls tossed ideas back and forth at each other. During this, Dipper looked up and finally said what he’d been wanting to say for awhile, as he stared at Miz’s headband: "Why are you wearing that?" It looked weird; something was off about it.

Miz poked her headband. "It’s a Seal that cuts off my senses so that I don’t get affected by your emotions anymore." She pouted. "It’s annoying but if it makes everyone feel better about being around me..."

Dipper straightened up a bit at getting an actual answer, and was about to ask how she’d made it; Great-Uncle Ford had always said that cloth was too flexible for spellwork because the deformations would shift the stitched-spellword around. But then Dipper hesitated for a moment as the implications of what she’d said hit him, and that had him changing what _would_ have been his next question, to something else instead. "Cuts off your senses?"

"That thing that my powers naturally do, without my control, which apparently doesn’t count enough as ‘magic’ to get blocked by the Weirdness barrier you’ve got around the Shack." Miz scooped out some more sand, strengthening it and making a large tunnel into the castle. "That thing that my powers do makes it so I get bombarded by other people’s emotions." She sighed.

Dipper was quiet for a bit. He wanted a pen to bite on. He’d had a day to think it over, now. When the dragon girl had said she was feeling ‘angry waves’ at the breakfast table yesterday, both Great-Uncle Ford and Bill had looked… upset. (And that had been a big red flag right there. They never agreed on anything!) But with Bill rushing the dragon girl out of the Shack so quickly, and Great-Uncle Ford getting messed up by the two of them somehow... no-one had really told him or Mabel what it had all been about. Grunkle Stan had told them later that it wasn't something that would hurt _them_ (and hadn’t been angry about _that_ , the way he’d talked about Bill and the dragon girl, so that meant that _that_ hadn’t been what had happened to hurt Great-Uncle Ford so badly). But… based on what Miz was saying, and how _Bill_ had reacted in the kitchen (since he did seem to act like he cared about her, even if they fought sometimes), and that headband she was wearing…

"...It hurts _you_ , doesn't it?" Dipper asked. Her feeling their emotions had hurt _her_ somehow. Miz shrugged. "It's not that bad, unless the emotions I'm feeding off of are the type that make rational thought difficult. Though any type of emotion in excess isn't good," she shrugged. Dipper frowned.

"But, was it hurting you?" Dipper asked her again. He wanted a proper answer.

For a while, it seemed like Miz wasn't going to respond. Finally she brushed some more sand aside and answered, "Yes." Dipper hissed in a breath and clenched his hands, knocking his fists lightly against the side of the ship behind him.

Mabel was looking back and forth between Dipper and Miz. "Dipper?"

"So you _can_ feel our emotions?" Dipper pressed. He knew better than to go with a simple ‘yes’, from some of the stuff he’d practically tripped over at previous meals in the kitchen with Bill. (Grunkle Stan had caught him, kind of, but… he couldn’t just depend on that all the time, and he didn’t want to anymore.) "And they hurt you?"

At that point, Bill spoke up and said: "She can. The headband stops that for now, as long as she’s wearing it." Bill looked over at her. "If she doesn’t…" Bill trailed off, and Miz sighed and picked up the explanation again. "Then I feel your emotions, and then I start _feeling_ your emotions. And if I don't filter them out, I can get a little overwhelmed." She looked down, wiggled her fingers, and made the sand castle build up a bit larger all over, moving sand with weirdness. "I don't want to make excuses for what mean things I said about Ford. I know it was mean, and hurtful, but I was annoyed, angry and offended and I just wanted to make him hurt."

Dipper breathed in slowly, while rubbing his face with his hands. "Okay. So that’s going to stop happening if you keep wearing that thing?" he asked her, after dropping his hands. "And you’ll stop taking stuff out on Great-Uncle Ford?" A lot of the stuff she’d been yelling two nights ago in the kitchen had been really nasty. Dipper still didn’t like it _at all_ , but... if she’d been feeling as angry as his Great-Uncle could get about some things -- like Bill -- and hadn’t been able to calm down and stop feeling them because _she_ wasn't the one who’d been angry… that was messed up. Dipper wasn’t so sure that _he_ could handle something like that himself, if he was feeling somebody else’s anger _and_ being hurt by it.

And maybe that explained why Great-Uncle Ford had stopped looking so defensive and mad yesterday morning, and instead jumped straight to alarm and worry instead when the dragon girl had talked about feeding on emotions -- Great-Uncle Ford must’ve realized what had happened and known that maybe she couldn’t help it? ...But that didn’t make it okay that she’d been talking about his great-uncle like that. And it definitely didn’t give either her _or_ Bill a pass for hurting their great-uncle in the woods, _whatever_ they’d done. (The worst part was, Grunkle Stan wasn’t _doing_ anything about it. What had happened to their Great-Uncle when he’d been alone with them in the woods. Grunkle Stan had gone upstairs to talk to Bill and the dragon girl that morning, sure… but nothing had happened. They’d gotten away with it. ...Mabel had even gotten a text from Pacifica that Bill had been spotted out on the lake afterwards in Grunkle Stan’s boat, running around doing stuff like it was nothing -- and that wasn’t okay! So he and Mabel had left their great-uncle with Melody and Stan and decided to handle things themselves. ...Except their two great-uncles had come after them, _with Bill_ , because they’d screwed up and tried using Blendin Blandin’s old broken time-tape before Old Man McGucket had finished fixing it. Pacifica had paid a bunch of people to find the pieces of it for them, and then have those pieces mailed to them; the package had arrived as super-top-express-priority mail at the mansion a couple days ago. McGucket had said he’d work on it for them, along with the rest of the stuff -- and he had. It had _looked_ fixed, and okay to use!)

Dipper and Mabel had thought they could fix things by making sure that their great-uncles had never fought in the first place: if Stan and Ford had never had a problem with that science fair project… maybe they would have still ended up in Gravity Falls, or maybe they wouldn't have -- but wherever they were, Stan would’ve been _with_ him, and Stan _would’ve_ seen Bill for what he was and stopped anything he was trying to do to Great-Uncle Ford cold! ...At least, Grunkle Stan would’ve done that for Great-Uncle Ford back _then_ , when they still treated each other like twins, both Mabel and Dipper were pretty sure. The stories Grunkle Stan told sometimes had sure made it sound that way... even if Great-Uncle Ford had sometimes looked a little uncomfortable when their grunkle had told those stories to them over the video chat. (Mabel had figured it was probably just seasickness, though it didn’t make sense to Dipper that Great-Uncle Ford might still be getting that after weeks out at sea...)

Well, that plan was sure sunk now, especially now that Bill knew about it. (Dipper was going to have to ask Great-Uncle Ford about that whole ‘time locked’ thing later. Maybe there was a way to _unlock_ it?) But what Dipper _really_ wanted to know, at the end of the day, was how likely it was that this dragon girl (who Bill kept calling a sister) was going to hurt either of their great-uncles -- especially Great-Uncle Ford, who’d _already_ been hurt by the two of them _really_ badly. "If you keep wearing that thing, you won’t get mad at our Great-Uncle Ford again?" Dipper pressed.

Miz thought about it. "I can't promise I won't get mad at Ford for any other reason." When Dipper looked about to protest, she continued with: "You know he physically assaulted Bill when he realized you and Mabel were missing?"

The twins froze, eyes wide with horror. (They knew that an attack against him was _not_ something that Bill would just let go, and neither of them had been around to see and complain if he--)

Dipper tossed a glance Mabel’s way at the same time she did him. Great-Uncle Ford wasn’t a complete basketcase, and he wasn’t, y’know, missing any limbs or anything. Bill _obviously_ hadn’t attacked him back. (Not that Dipper was _complaining_ , but _why_ …?)

Slowly, the twins turned their heads towards the dream demon, to stare at Bill. The demon wasn't looking at them, though he had clearly been listening to their conversation. Bill didn’t say anything in reply; he did shrug though. Dipper pulled in a short breath and frowned at the demonic dorito, wanting to ask, ‘ _What’s your game, Bill?_ ’ And what had Grunkle Stan done so that Bill and Great-Uncle Ford--

"They were worried about you," Miz told him first, before Dipper could ask. "Ford immediately blamed Bill. I can understand why he was worried, but I'm still a little upset about that." Miz continued shaping the sand, making the entrance to the sand castle larger. She paused. "So I can understand why you and Mabel are upset that I hurt Ford, too. So… I’m sorry." She sighed. "I don’t know if Ford will accept my apology though. And the thing in the woods… I didn't realize it would break him like that. Brother and I were just talking and he never told us to stop." She continued building up the sand castle’s entrance, taller, wider and rounder. (There had to be weirdness in play because there was no way normal sand would be able to hold up in that kind of shape.)

Dipper looked at her, feeling a little horrified -- because _what_ had they been talking about? Other dimensions, again? --Bill _knew_ he _wasn’t_ supposed to do that!! (...Oh no, hadn’t this dragon girl been talking about another dimension when she’d been explaining about bad teleporting problems when drunk? --Was that what had happened in the woods? Had Miz started talking about dimensional stuff, and then Bill had--!? --Aaah, Dipper needed to be more careful! He _wanted_ to know more about what things were like out there, but not if it was going to hurt his Great-Uncle!)

(But before Dipper could really begin to freak out about that properly, let alone respond to that out loud…) Miz crawled inside the sand castle, vanishing from view. The twins gasped while Bill blinked and tilted his head. It took Bill a moment to recognize, since he himself would never use something as impermanent as shifting sand to try and anchor something like that (too much extra work to stabilize), but that was…

"--What?!" Dipper was distracted from freaking out over asking about other dimensions, by… freaking out over a completely different thing, as he ran over to crouch down and peer inside the huge doorway to the sand castle. He tentatively put his hand in and pulled it out with no issue. Then he yelped and fell back in the sand when Miz poked her head and shoulders out, right in front of him, nearly in his face.

"Hey, I made a place for us to stay until Bill can get us home," Miz told them all simply before she ducked back inside. She had reinforced the sand so it wouldn't be changed or shifted without her say so; she wasn't stupid.

Mabel paused in thought for a moment, and then a wide smile spread across her face. "Oh my gosh! _Magical sand castle!_ " she squealed out, before crawling inside after Miz as well. Dipper screamed: "MABEL!" as she vanished into the sand.

_That_ got the attention of the older set of twins.

"Dipper? Where's Mabel? --What happened?" Stan asked, jogging over the few feet of distance he and Ford had taken, to try and leave _some_ of the arguing out of earshot.

Dipper was breathing quickly as he pointed at the sand castle. "T-they both--!" (He was having deja vu feelings that were just one step removed from a full flashback to Weirdmageddon and Mabel’s prison bubble.)

Mabel poked her head out. "Dipper! You've GOT to see this!!" she squealed out at him in excitement, before ducking back inside again.

"Mabel -- _wait!_ " Dipper, fully panicked now, tried to follow his sister inside this time, but was scooped up at the waist and held back by Stan. Yeah, no. Not letting any more kids disappear inside some magical sand castle thing.

Stan glanced down at Bill -- who was frowning slightly, but seemed mostly calm about all this racket. Stan actually wasn't too worried since they’d seen Mabel looking all fine and dandy, but he _did_ want to know what this thing was. "Kid? What did your sister just build?" Stan asked, looking over at Bill. This thing _wasn’t_ just your run-of-the-mill sandcastle, like that bouncy castle had been.

It was Ford who answered. "It's a subspace pocket! H-how?!" (From _his_ experience, these sorts of things were…) Ford stared at the sandcastle as if it would come to life and eat them. (And if this dragon-demon was a Bill Cipher, it just _might_ do just that!) Ford flinched when they heard Mabel's delighted voice from inside, cheering: "There's a jacuzzi!"

Everyone else was still staring at the sandcastle at her pronouncement, while Bill rolled his eyes and said, " _Stay here_. ...Need a minute. I’ll get them," Bill half-grumbled out at them all before he himself bent down and crawled himself inside. Despite his best efforts to NOT touch the sides, the entrance reacted to his entry, seeming to stretch farther open to accommodate his slightly-wider form.

\---

...Well-well-well, the transition didn’t tear him in half or screw with his anchored-down energy form. That was a good sign! Still not enough, though.

Bill stood up and looked around, hands on his hips. There was… a lot of human-looking _stuff_ in here, but he didn’t see either of them right away.

So Bill brought his hands to his mouth, cupped them, and he called out, "MIZ! SHOOTING STAR!"

"We're over here!" he heard Miz call back, seemingly from down another hallway.

Bill sighed. " _‘Over here’ needs to be ‘out there’ in less than thirty-two seconds, unless you want to risk that Stanford breaking himself all over again!_ " Bill called back to them.

""Awww…"" Bill heard both girls whining, then a worried " ~~ ~~Wait, breaking--?!~~~~ " from Shooting Star, before the quick pitter-patter of their feet echoed down the hallway towards him at a very rapid pace.

When they turned the corner, Bill saw Shooting Star hugging a large stuffed animal; Miz held one as well. They seemed to be… animals but not like any creature Bill had seen on Earth. It also seemed like they were another reference to something. A round pink creature with little dark pink feet and stubby arms.

"Shooting Star first, Miz second, myself last," Bill said, shooing Shooting Star out the entrance-that-was-also-an-exit first. He gave an almost apologetic glance to Miz for the interruption. She pouted but accepted.

"We're keeping the Kirbys though," Miz said as she hugged her own, yellow colored version of the creature. _Just ‘cause she was jealous of how popular Kirby was, didn’t mean she didn’t find him absolutely adorable~…_

"That’s fine," Bill told her, "As long as they’re made of stable matter-- ah, matter that is at _least_ as stable as the external jug you cloned was," Bill added, realizing that he should probably give a touchstone-metric-example for reference, rather than spend a great deal of time verifying the definition for ‘stable’ at that _particular_ moment.

Miz nodded. She made sure her creations were stable enough they wouldn't fall apart. Even her vessels stayed while she was unconscious.

Bill waited as Miz handed her Kirby to him briefly as she went out next (to help keep the sand off of it), before he passed it through to her and then followed her out (as, quite deliberately, the last one out).

\---

By the time both Miz and Bill were out, Ford was already down on one knee in the sand, hugging Mabel to his chest like he’d truly thought he’d never see her again, and the Kirby plushie Mabel had been holding had been relegated to the sand. (...Not that it looked like Mabel had wanted to let go of it, for the mournful look she was giving it, but it was pretty clear that Ford had been freaked out enough by something to do with it that she’d decided that letting go of it was better than holding onto it.)

Bill sighed as he leaned over and plucked the discarded plushie up off of the beach and actually took the time to brush off a bit of the sand from it, before holding it out to Stan.

"Kid?" Stan asked him, as he took the stuffed toy from him. Bill sighed, and turned to his little sister.

"Miz," Bill said. "There is no way that that Stanford is going to walk into _that_ , EVER," Bill gestured at the sandcastle, "And he is going to panic if any of _them_ ," Bill waved at his other Zodiac members, "Go inside where he can’t see them."

Miz pouted, squishing her yellow Kirby in her arms. "So we can't stay in the sand castle?" She was quite sad about that. She'd always wanted an excuse to have a magical sand castle.

(Dipper was waving his hands at it. "What _is_ this?!" He looked frustrated as he walked around it in a circle, because he was really _really_ curious, even though he was definitely afraid about putting himself inside anything that might be anything like Bill’s bubble (which had been way bigger on the inside than the outside, too). But Mabel had gotten to go inside and he hadn’t! Just like the tears left over from Weirdmageddon; she’d gotten to see the multiverse, then! Dipper wasn’t jealous exactly, but part of him really wanted to see what was inside, even as the other part of him _really_ didn’t trust it. He was glad Mabel was alright though.)

"Well," said Bill. "You have to understand, Miz…" Bill began slowly, rocking back on his heels and getting an almost ‘grade-school teacher’-like cant to his tone, as Pine Tree and Shooting Star looked up at him almost suspiciously. "You _really_ don’t want to set up a competing bit of ‘bed’ real estate of your own," Bill told her. " _Sadly_ , it just WON’T compare to the alternative."

Miz blinked up at her brother with an innocent-seeming look. "What do you mean, big brother?" she said, picking up on the fact that he had _something_ going on here, and wanting to set it up for him, to help him out. She hugged her doll closer, playing up the ‘sweet, innocent child’ thing she liked so much.

"WELL," Bill said, putting his hands on his hips. " _Really_ , little sis, you SHOULDN’T be putting up your OWN skills against the _great_ Stanley Pines and his home-making skills!" Bill stopped for just a moment, for just the right amount of dramatic pause, as the four members of his Zodiac behind him stared at him, starting to tick over what he meant in their minds… before Bill said: "--Which we are going to _pirate_ like the WANDERING DIMENSIONAL HIGH-SEAS VAGABONDS that we are, HAHA!" and with that, Bill smacked the palm of his hand right up against the side of the boat next to him, _hard_.

There was a pause at what Bill had just said sank in.

And it really only took the kids a moment, before they both turned towards the side of the boat that was sitting right next to them, and they both lit up. They’d both been so stressed out and distracted from everything that had happened in the last half-hour that they hadn’t realized--

"No way. _No way_. This is the _Stan ‘O War_ …?" Dipper breathed out, completely overwhelmed, as he took a step forward and placed his own hands against it.

"The ORIGINAL!!" Mabel giggled out excitedly.

The younger twins both turned their heads to look at each other, and they both began to smile.

They looked up at Stan next, turning a twin pair of practically _begging_ and very-expectant starry-eyed looks on him, and Stan rocked back on his heels and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. ...Well, at least they were asking first? It was sort of… his...

"Uh…" Stan looked up at the boat. It wasn’t really in shape to live in, yet; that was why he’d been thinking about hotels… He _supposed_ they could make do with using it, camping out on deck, if it was just for the one night…?

And then something really occurred to Stan, and he had to stifle a wince.

"It ain't… really mine. Right?" Stan said. He glanced over at Bill.

"It’s all but identical," the triangle demon told him. "It just wasn’t made by _you_ , personally. --Hence, pirating!" the kid grinned at him enthusiastically. Stan let out a heavy sigh, then turned back to the niblings, who were still looking up at him with those hero-worshipping, expectant looks on their faces.

"Yeah, okay," Stan told the kids, but he wasn’t through the first word before Mabel had grabbed her brother, pulled out her favorite tool of choice, shouted out "GRAPPLING HOOK!" -- and _up they went!_ It startled a chuckle out of Stan.

Ford winced and jumped forward to move under them on their ascent, not entirely sure the railing was _meant_ to support that amount of weight (he hadn’t helped Stan out with any of the repairs to their own since partway through middle school…). He relaxed a bit and let out a breath as they made it to the deck without issue.

Miz made an "Ohh~" sound as she heard Mabel laugh out loudly. She watched for a moment, as the twin girl and her brother scrambled up over the railing and ran off (presumably to check out the rest of the deck), before nodding and turning to Stan. "Do you mind if I moved my sand castle?" Miz asked him.

"Better to move it up up onto the deck," the kid told Stan, adding his own two cents. "Keep it out of the way of any prying eyes, and any inquisitive heads and grabby fingers."

Miz nodded. Even if she had a perception filter up, it would be safer if it was out of the way. Stan looked between the two of them, then nodded at her, giving her his okay. At that, she wiggled her fingers and floated the sandcastle up and onto the deck, using her Sight to help her locate and then figure out a good path to push it into a corner so it would be out of the way.

"Stan! If someone sees--?!" Ford looked around with no small concern, dropping a hand to his holster in reflex as (initial panic past) he belatedly tried to determine if anyone had been watching earlier when three people had crawled inside of a sand castle that really should not have fit even one of them -- _or_ when the _other_ ‘human’ (triangle? _Bill Cipher??_ ) demon had floated said sandcastle up to the deck just now. In Ford's experience, people in other dimensions generally did _not_ react well to seeing things they did not understand.

Miz scoffed at Ford’s reaction. "I put up a Perception Filter. No one even realizes we're here except the other Stan and Ford."

The two older twins turned their heads towards her and stared at her. Stan glanced over at Bill after a moment, reaching out and laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder when Ford gritted his teeth and seemed to be about to object to something at Miz. "Kid?" Stan asked.

"It’s a simple spell," Bill informed them. "Mainly visual with a hard line of what can and can’t be seen past a boundary, with a few exceptions. Though this one has a bit of an audal modifier, too, since cutting all sound would dampen the sound of the waves and the water from the beach," Bill glanced over at Stanley, "Which apparently some humans notice very quickly."

Right. So this was something like that thing the kid had done around his bed for the second time a couple nights ago, that had netted him am attic room the kid could ‘sleep’ in, if the kid wanted to sneak out of it instead. And Miz had set this filter thing to allow ‘Stanford Pines’ and ‘Stanley Pines’. So, technically…

Stan groaned. "Any particular reason you allowed the other versions of us know we're here?" he asked the two demon kids.

Bill smiled enigmatically, and Miz blinked too innocently to be believed. Even _Ford_ was able to tell, if the way his brother tensed at his side was any tell for that. "Well~ I didn't want to disappoint them since they seemed so interested in us…" she toed her foot in little circles in the sand. "And I wanted to see the funny looks on their faces." She blushed. "...like the faces they're making right now…"

She and Bill turned in a too-perfect-to-have-been-choreographed unison, to look off into the distance directly at where she'd Seen the two teenagers huddling behind a rock (and where Bill had simply seen the telltale glint of binocular glass in the sun). Their local counterparts were still slapping each other’s shoulders in excitement over the magical sand castle. Their excited faces were so adorable! They looked so young and… happy.

Stanley turned (and Ford whirled in place abruptly) to look in the same direction, and they all heard a pair of muffled exclamations and saw _one_ of them grab the other one of them to duck down behind said large rock.

Stanley couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, even though he did try to cover his mouth with his hand. Ford just ran a hand over his face in consternation.

" _We’re being WATCHED,_ " Bill said creepily, with a grin, then stopped. "Or should that be, ‘Someone’s _WATCHING_ YOU~!’...?" he tried next, looking to Stanley. Miz sang out _"I always feel like~ somebody's waaaaatching meee~"_

Stanley let out another "Heh," and Bill rocked side-to-side on his heels a bit, before glancing down at Miz.

"Little sis," Bill said, "It’s not that I don’t trust you enough to try and convince my Zodiac to stay in your sandcastle," Bill said -- getting back to the earlier point he’d been trying to make, now that Pine Tree and Shooting Star were effectively out of earshot. "It’s that there can be a LOT of things that can go wrong with dimensional pockets, and you aren’t me. If you’re in there with them," Bill told her, "Then you could probably fix anything you needed to from inside it, but if Shooting Star or Pine Tree went inside when you weren’t there?" Bill noted. "Or someone attacked the outside of the sandcastle and it collapsed?" (Ford gave Bill a long expressionless stare.)

Miz pouted. "I mean, it should be fine. I made Pyronica's twins a little playpen just like this when they were babies."

"I know," Bill told her. "But these are my Zodiac. And you are you. I’d be happy to sleep inside it with you myself, without checking it over myself, but… I don’t know how you do things. And the way you do things…" Bill frowned slightly. "The way you _don’t_ do things sometimes…" Bill frowned at her slightly and lay a hand on top of her head. "You’ve been living for six-hundred-billion years and NEVER tried to find a way to keep other people’s emotions OUT of your insides, even though they _HURT_ you." Bill looked down at her seriously. "Maybe you’d make it safe enough for my Zodiac, because you care about _me_ ," Bill told her. "But I don’t know anymore if you’d make it safe enough for YOU." Bill sighed and leaned forward and down, nearly touching his forehead against the headband cloth encircling her own. "So I don’t want you going inside it without me. Understand?"

Miz nodded. "Ok. I understand." She’d just… never really thought about her own problems in such a way before. Hadn't really cared if she got hurt, since she wasn't gonna die anyway and didn't feel like it was something to worry about. Her friends had never said anything since they didn't really **know** , but Bill DID and he was… worried about her. It made her feel all tight inside… but in a happy way.

Bill let out a slow breath. "Good," Bill said, patting her on the head in that not-quite-awkward way as he straightened up a bit. And then Bill grinned down at her instead and said, "SO! ...Ever stolen a Stan ‘O War before?" very leadingly.

Miz grinned. "Nope, but I'd love to try!"

"WELL!" enthused Bill. And with a wave of his hand he made a wave of sand, which spiraled upwards under her feet and pushed her up until she was just about level with the deck.

Bill waited until his little sister was safely on board, before making a small gesture with a mutter to let it collapse again. He stared upwards for a moment before turning to look at Stan, with an uncharacteristically odd look on his face. Ford realized that Bill’s posture was just a bit off, as well, with the way he was holding himself.

"...Did I… do that right?" Bill asked of Stanley. "Human encouragement?" The old man stared. Kid really was trying to be a good big brother for his ‘human’ sister, huh. Stan wasn't sure how to feel about that. It was good, right? But Stan wondered if Bill would ever be able to pay attention to or care about anybody else in the same way, if he didn’t think of them like they were some kinda brother or sister to him. Stan wasn’t exactly _counting_ on that ever being a thing, but… he hadn’t even thought it was on the table before. Stan had never even considered it.

...And he probably shouldn’t. Stan didn’t want to think about what ‘sibling betrayal’ would look like on the kid, when (the last time Stan had talked with the kid about it) the kid still thought nothing of killing most people outright for even ‘challenging’ him to a simple _verbal_ fight.

"Yeah, kid," Stan told him, of how he’d handled his sister. "I think you did that right."

Ford felt uneasy as he watched Bill untense a bit at Stan’s response, looking almost relaxed (...or relieved?...) at what Stan had told him. Ford glanced over at Stan as his brother said, "Go on, get up to the deck and hey, maybe toss down that rope ladder when you get the chance, yeah?" Ford had to hide a flinch as Bill gave Stan a smile (not a grin, just a smile) and then _floated_ himself straight up and then over the railing, onto the deck.

Ford turned to his brother and opened his mouth, about to say something, when there was a ‘thump’, and he twisted his head around to see a rope ladder next to them, twisting and swinging against the side of the boat. ...His heart was still pounding, as he slowly turned his head to look over at his brother.

Stan just shrugged at him. "Kid takes requests," Stan said.

Ford pulled in a breath, then pinched the bridge of his nose and let it out slowly.

"What _day_ is it, Stanley?" he asked of his twin brother finally.

Stan gave him a long look. "Don’t want you freaking out on me again," he was told.

"Tell. Me." Ford gritted out.

Stan grimaced a bit, then sighed. "You had that talk in the woods with the two of them yesterday," Stan said. "You remember that?" he said, testing the waters, hoping Ford wouldn't break on him again.

Ford pulled in a shaky breath. He wrapped his arms around himself, and focused on his breathing. (Bill was back. That demon was another Bill Cipher. He couldn’t… he couldn’t...) Ford pulled in another breath. (He had to. He would. He _must_. --He _must not ~~give in and--~~_ )

"...Yes," Ford said finally, shakily. He slowly started to regulate his breathing. Because. Because… he could. He could. He was and would _continue_ to-- hold it together for now. (Hold it together, Ford.) He could… he... (Ford pulled in another breath. _Focus._ ) --The kids. The kids _needed_... they _**needed**_ him to...

Ford swallowed, hard.

...they, they _were_ real. Right? This was… real? (But they were so good, so… how could they possibly be real? And if it, all this, wasn’t real, then… was it a nightmare? Or a dream? The kids were perfect, Ford loved them dearly and desperately, but _he couldn’t keep them safe from Bill_ , and--) Ford forced his eyes shut. He felt his breathing start to go shaky. (He HAD to. But ~~what if~~ \-- he couldn’t…)

He felt his brother’s arms slowly encircle him, and **he couldn’t stop shaking** , because this-- _all_ of this felt _wrong_. All of this felt _wr_...

"You’re awake," they both heard Bill call out lowly, from above.

Ford’s eyes snapped open; Stan looked up. Ford didn’t look up. He tensed, he...

"You are in Dimension 46’\\+" they both heard Bill say next, and Ford shuddered slightly, going pale.

"...Ford?" Stan said quietly.

"You are in the Milky Way Galaxy, Orion-Cygnus Spiral Arm, Sol System, Planet Earth," Bill continued, in that calm, almost soothing tone of voice. "Latitude 39.8922 North, Longitude 74.1327 West."

Stan could feel Ford shudder in his arms again, heard him make a slight choking sound. Stan frowned. Ford was actin’ weird, but he couldn’t figure out what the problem was with what the kid was saying. And Stan opened him mouth to say something, but stopped. Because he wasn’t sure if he _should_ stop Bill -- not when it sounded to him like the kid really was trying to _help_ right now. (So Stan continued holding his brother, comforting him in the only way he knew he could, when the problem was inside his brother’s own head, and hoping Ford would calm down and settle into his own head properly again.)

"You are--" Bill began, and Ford ducked his head into Stan’s shoulder and damn near _screamed out_ at the same time, " _ **\--I’M NOT SAFE!!**_ "

And Stan felt himself go expressionless, because Ford hadn’t just overridden the kid there. Bill had said ‘safe’ at the same time that Ford had said it, and there was really only one way that Ford could possibly have known what the triangle demon had been planning on saying next.

From the way his brother suddenly froze up stiff as a board in his arms a good second-and-a-half later, his brother must have realized what he’d just ‘admitted’, too (...hell, really, just _given away_ to him).

And Stan pulled him in tight and did _not_ let him go.

"--Ford, don’t run," Stan told his brother, " _Don’t run_."

He felt his brother shudder violently again, start to try and push him away--

"--Please don’t run," Stan said, feeling damn near like something was tearing apart in his chest as he said it. "Ford, _please_."

...He felt his brother jerk, and quiver in place like a damn scared racehorse, and then--

" _ **RELAX**_ ," Bill intoned above them, with a whole slew of odd undertones as he said it. Stan felt a strange warm shiver go down his own spine, but he felt more than heard his brother whimper at the single almost-distorted word... and Stan barely held onto his brother as Ford’s knees went out on him suddenly. --Stan followed him down, on purpose.

There was barely a second to breath, before… "You’re awake," Bill began again, in the same low, calm tone he’d started in, and Ford was struggling to straighten up again, shaking now. Stan let go of the bear hug to slap his own hands over Ford’s ears (about to yell at the kid for this mess).

But Stan was a split-second behind his own brother, as he brought his hands to his own temples and blurted out: "-- _Stop!!_ ".

Bill stopped.

Stan had to take a few breaths to calm down. (He wasn’t calming down; he was still pissed.) "...Kid," Stan ground out lowly at him, angry as anything (because how the hell had this been helping?!). "Take the kids and _go to the other side of the boat_. **Now.** " Because with how loudly Ford had yelled just then, Stan didn’t doubt that they had a larger audience than just Bill anymore. And if the way Ford had damn near _run_ from him a few seconds before was a thing, then his brother would _not_ want the kids looking down over the side of the boat at him, to see him now.

Stan heard footsteps, and some muttering (kid was probably getting flak from the younger set now -- well, he sure as hell deserved it more than little bit, for pulling this stunt when Ford was already feeling this bad), and Stan waited to say anything more until he was pretty sure they were mostly alone again.

"Ford…" Stan began quietly, slowly lowering his hands away from his brother’s ears, but his brother sure didn’t _look_ like he’d just cracked up again. He just looked like… like he was in complete and disbelieving shock. Shit.

"He… he…" Ford was shivering, on-again off-again, still holding his own six-fingered hands at his temples. Stan waited, and Ford finally blurted out: "He _stopped_." His brother, wide-eyed, looked and sounded like he couldn’t believe it.

Stan frowned as he looked down at his brother. ...Now that he thought about it, Ford had sounded like maybe he hadn’t actually _meant_ to say ‘stop’ out loud before. Like his brother hadn’t expected anything to _happen_ except maybe… who knew what. (Probably nothing good. ...Hell.)

" _Yeah_ , he stopped," Stan told him heavily, which had Ford looking up at him, still in shock, and so very, very confused. "Kid’s _supposed_ to stop at ‘stop’ and ‘no’," Stan reminded his brother -- really, told him all over again, before leaning forward a bit. "With _everybody_ ," he told his brother, and Stan watched with a sinking feeling as his brother struggled _hard_ with utter disbelief, and a little panic (...the hell? why...?), and something like despair.

And then his brother broke down sobbing where he was kneeling in the sand right in front of him.

Stan moved his hands to Ford’s shoulders, and he brought Ford in towards him just a little bit closer. Closed his eyes and touched his forehead to Ford’s own. (Dammit all to hell. When was the last time his brother had felt safe, before all this? ...When _Bill_ had told him to? --Ford had collapsed like a damn rag doll for a moment there; he’d never relaxed that far, even in his sleep, even on the boat, he’d… Hell, had Ford actually _believed_ the demon, there? Whatever the hell the demon had done, it hadn’t made him do more than shiver, but Ford had... --What the hell had been going on in those other dimensions that he didn’t know about?!)

After a while, Ford (finally) nearly collapsed forward up against him again, dropping his hands away from his face to wrap his arms around his brother, instead. ...But Stan couldn’t help but notice that as Ford did it, he’d still seemed to be fighting himself to do it. It was almost like his brother was _afraid_ to hang on to him too tightly.

So Stan brought his own arms down and gathered his brother up in a hug again, trying to make things better. (Mabel was right about that one, hugging things out being a thing. ...Maybe a little more right than Stan wanted to, or would _ever_ , admit.) ...At least _this_ time, Ford didn’t fight him on it, didn’t fight the hug he was givin’ him, trying to get away.

Damnit. Stan’s thoughts were both dark and grim. --That triangle demon had known _exactly_ what he was doing when he’d _insisted_ that Dipper or Stan himself should be able to say something was okay to talk about in some other dimension -- that it _had_ to be a thing, that they _had_ to be able to override Ford’s own wishes in not wanting to talk about something -- before the kid had even begun to think about agreeing to _ANY_ of it. That damn devious demon.

...The worst part was, Stan was both afraid of what would happen if he took the demon up on it, and just as afraid of what would happen if he _didn’t_. Either way, his brother might not trust him anymore. (Which meant that the only way through this was to…)

Damn him. Damn that demon for doing this to his brother, and damn him for putting them all into this situation in the first place, too, where Stan would need to make a decision like this.

\--And damn him _again_ for acting like he thought Stan couldn’t fix this, too. Bill was convinced that Stan would have to choose between breaking the agreement and kicking the demon to the curb -- letting the demon loose to do whatever the hell he wanted -- and the rest of his family’s safety and sanity? --To hell with the demon. Stan would find a way to do _both_.

_And he’d make the kid help him do it, too._ Stan glared out across the beach as he held onto his brother in a hug. ...Because now, hey, _there’s_ a penalty worth slapping on the triangle demon, right there. Showing him how to fix something he couldn’t figure out himself, not in another trillion years. _That’d_ show him. That’d _teach_ him, not to _mess_ with him or _any_ of his family, ever again.

Not **ever**.

\---

After Ford's shout, and Stanley’s ‘request’ (read: demand), Bill had herded the children (including Miz) over to the other side of the boat. Miz took this time to check on something she’d been meaning to. She back against the railing as she hummed a quiet tune and Flickered. How similar was this dimension to the one they'd left? Could they make it so that THIS Stan and Ford wouldn't stop being friends? The more she Looked though, the more confused she became as she Saw something she didn't expect. She hadn't noticed before since she'd only been looking for Bill's past and alternates within this dimensional set. Ford was…

She bit her lip. This was…

She turned her Sight over to the two of them briefly, Seeing them hugging each other down in the sand -- oh no, poor Ford had been _crying_. She wasn't sure what had happened there, aside from Ford shouting ‘Stop’ to something Bill said. Should she Look, to try and understand what had happened just then? Should she say anything about what she’d just Seen before that, looking? At least now she understood what Bill had meant when he told Stanley that Ford wasn't his brother. But… but… she shook her head. It… wasn't any of her business right? As long as Stan was happy with that Stanford...

But…

She bit her lip. If this Stanley loved his brother so much...

Bill walked over to her, his ‘chewing out’ from Pine Tree and Shooting Star for ( _supposedly_ ) having mentally attacked that Stanford again now ‘mostly complete’ (according to them), and he leaned back against the railing next to her.

"Problem?" Bill asked her quietly. He’d noticed her growing distress. Miz sighed. "I'm worried about how Stan would feel when he finds out--" _‘this Ford isn't HIS Ford.’_ (She didn't say that last part aloud, wary of the younger twins glancing at them.) And it was all sorts of tragic, this misunderstanding. That Stanford was from a different dimension; he had a different Stanley back in his original world waiting for him.

Bill (having realized rather quickly where Miz was going when it came to ‘Stan finding something out’ and a ‘worry’) had been about to raise a hand, to her lips to slap it over her mouth and cut her off. His hand hovered at shoulder level for a moment after she’d finished speaking, before he raised it still further and dropped his hand down on top of her head, instead.

"So am I," Bill said quietly. Worry wasn’t quite an alien concept for him, and he generally didn’t feel it under nearly any circumstances, but in this case... "He can’t even _think_ it," Bill murmured out. Stanley could not even consider the _possibility_ of his brother not being there. And if he found out what Bill had done, before Bill brought him back? --Bill didn’t want to risk the agreement. He had a good thing going, and it was contingent on not messing with Stanley’s family! On the implicit ASSUMPTION that ‘Stanley’s family’ was here, there, _with him_ already.

"I’ll fix it," Bill told her quietly. "I can and know how." He could disentangle the energies properly. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been _paying attention_ when... "It’s fine."

Miz nodded, still looking a little sad. She felt bad for poor Stan and Ford. But… brother said he would fix it. And she believed him. Miz leaned in a little against his side.

Bill blew out a breath slowly, and patted her on the head. He knew at this point that Stanley _didn’t_ know. Calling that Stanford his ‘twin’.The problem was… Bill wasn’t entirely sure that that Stanford didn’t know, or at least _suspect_. That Stanford was fairly oblivious to A LOT, but not everything had been EXACTLY the same between the two dimensions. Bill had tried to gloss over the differences, had tried to handle things in such a way that Sixer _wouldn’t_ pick up on it until it was too late, wouldn’t think of trying to leave if it came to that, if it came down to the Rift being his only viable option out of his old decaying dimension and into THAT ONE (-- and it had). Bill had tried to set things up so that Sixer -- in the worst of worst-cases -- WOULDN’T realize that maybe, just _maybe_ , Bill had _needed_ every last one of his Zodiac in exactly the same dimension at the same time in nearly the same place in order to _get out_... (because he _had_ , because of the stupid lizard’s STUPID PROPHECY...)

It had been a balancing act and a half.

Bill glanced over, as Shooting Star finally got up from where she was sitting with her sibling and marched across the deck, right over to him.

"Mister," Shooting Star said, with her hands on her hips, " _We_ have been talking," she told him (while Pine Tree made an ‘ugh’ face from where he was still sitting), "And _you_ are going to _apologize!_ " Shooting Star declared, pointing at him.

Bill blinked down at her and frowned. "...Why." (That also generally encapsulated ‘what’ and ‘who’, Bill was pretty sure.)

Miz raised her hand. "Should I try apologizing too?" She looked over in the direction of the other side of the boat, where they’d left Stan and Ford in the sand. "Do you think he would accept it?"

Dipper groaned from over where he was still sitting, pulling down on his hat. "They don’t know what you’re talking about, Mabel," he told his sister.

Miz tilted her head in confusion. "What did we do this time?"

Mabel let out a huff. "You did something really bad to our _other_ most-favorite grunkle in the woods yesterday!" she reminded them, putting her hands on her hips.

Miz pouted. "I didn't know he would react like that. It didn't seem like it was anything too troubling…" She played with her doll. "I was just talking about my dad." Bill not quite winced and looked away. Dipper was watching this, and narrowed his eyes at them, then said: "What did you say to Great-Uncle Ford."

"Dipper!" Mabel almost hissed out back at him.

"--Don’t answer that," Bill told Miz (though he was grimacing as he said it), which left Mabel groaning. Miz nodded slowly.

"Dipperrrrrrr," Mabel complained. "I almost had it out of them!"

Dipper eyed Bill and his ‘sister’. Dipper had his own way of trying to tackle things with Bill, and after he’d called off their deal… Bill had actually gotten a lot more straightforward with him when Dipper asked him questions. He actually even answered them sometimes, and when he did… it was usually the blunter and way more straightforward ones. So…

"--Why don’t you want us to know?" Dipper asked Bill next, and Bill let out a long breath, looking annoyed.

Miz glanced at Bill and then at Dipper. She didn't personally see an issue with telling them. It wasn't something they could use against her after all. And it wasn't like they would freak out over the existence of other Bill Ciphers right?

"It’s talking about other dimensions," Bill put out there, crossing his arms. Dipper was almost glaring at him at this point.

"...What did you say to Great-Uncle Ford out in the woods," Dipper repeated, watching Bill closely.

Bill looked over at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "I _JUST SAID_ \--"

"--and I’m telling you to tell me anyway," Dipper shot right back. "You already broke it. You had to, if it’s about other dimensions. So tell me," Dipper said, "Or tell me why you don’t want to tell me."

Miz bit her lip and fidgeted in place. She wasn't supposed to say anything but she could… she allowed her tail to unfurl and waved it up in front of her, wondering if the twins would pick up on the familiar brick-like pattern of her scales.

Bill looked highly uncomfortable for a long moment. Then he looked away from Pine Tree and snapped out, "I don’t want you treating my sister any differently!" He shoved Miz’s tail down and out of the way, giving her a small shake of his head. Miz retracted it and looked down at her doll.

Dipper sent an angry look Miz’s way. "So _she_ said--"

"-- **No** ," Bill cut him off, whipping his head back towards him. "It was ME. He didn’t understand it until I made it clear. _ME._ "

Miz buried her face in her doll. "--My existence is what upset him!" she cried out. She was trying hard not to cry. She didn't like having her very existence denied so vehemently.

Bill let out an exasperated chittering sound. (Dipper glanced between the two of them.) "--NO," Bill reiterated, dropping a hand onto her head again and mussing up her hair. "There are plenty of other--" Bill grimaced. "It would have happened eventually," he told her. "That Stanford is stupid for deciding to-- it--" Bill was having a hard time trying to think of a way to explain… "-- _He_ decided to hate me. Understand? He hates. ...He shouldn’t hate me in the first place," Bill muttered. (That got a pair of disbelieving frowns from his Zodiac up on deck.)

Miz sniffled. "I haven't even MET my own Ford yet." And she had been excited to meet him someday. She wanted to meet all of them.

Bill pulled in his breath sharply with a ‘tssst’ sound, realizing exactly what sort of a mistake he’d just made in even letting the subject come up, when Pine Tree said: "What do you _mean_ your own…" (Because Pine Tree _wasn’t_ stupid, and Shooting Star wasn’t--)

Dipper trailed off as he realized not just _what_ Miz had said, but _how_ she’d just said it… he remembered how, when they’d been in the kitchen, she’d called him and Grunkle Stan and Mabel and Great-Uncle Ford all _Bill’s_ , and... "No. No _way_." Dipper leaned back, staring at Miz.

Bill let out a hissing-chittery sound and pulled Miz in a bit closer to him, eyes narrowed into slits. Mabel was just watching them all, wide-eyed.

"...Dipper?" Mabel said almost tremulously. (She’d realized, the same as her brother had, that Miz was a Bill Cipher from how she’d just talked about ‘her own Ford’, but she wasn’t sure if he’d realized something else that she hadn’t.)

Miz sniffled. "I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't tried to kill any humans or… or…" she hadn't done anything EVIL… right? Sure she killed people (and so has Ford!) but she didn't do it for fun! And out there in the Multiverse… things happened. So she shouldn't be hated… right? "I just happen to be who I am. But we're not the same. One of the others was a literal honey bee for fuck’s sake--!"

"--You _met_ another **you** who treated your sister like garbage," Bill practically snarled out at Pine Tree, trying to force him to THINK. (He knew Shooting Star would get it right away -- _and she had_. But Pine Tree--) Bill knew _Pine Tree_ was capable of it, at least. Of stopping, and thinking, and-- "Do you get angry at YOURSELF for how HE treated her, the same way you got angry at _him?_ " Bill demanded out of Pine Tree -- telling them, _reminding_ them of what had happened at ‘Anti-Mabel’s’ house, when Anti-Ford had invited them all over for tea. Reminding them of what had happened after Bill had made a portal there, fully meaning to just toss that ‘anti-Bill’ on back through and nothing else beyond that -- just close it again. How, how and what had happened, had been...

"No…" Dipper said uncomfortably. He didn’t get angry at himself about that. He had defended her! Dipper did feel a little guilty, though. Some of the things that that other Dipper had said… had been a little too close to a couple things that _he_ had thought before, a little _too_ much for him to be able to truthfully say: ‘that’s not me, I would never say or do that’.

"He isn’t you; you aren’t him," Bill told Pine Tree angrily. "He does things; you _didn’t_ do those things, you did _something else_." Bill pulled in a breath. "You both just HAPPEN to have the same name, _and_ a twin sister, _and_ a pair of twin great-uncles, _and maybe_ a few similarities between you, beyond that," Bill told him, and Shooting Star, and Miz.

Miz sighed with her face buried in her doll. Still, it felt nice to get this off her shoulders. She hadn't liked hiding who she was. It was fine in the short term but if she wanted to stay here longer, she'd rather be honest about herself.

Mabel was glancing between them all. "Soooooooo... is Anti-Bill _also_ a--?"

"-- _WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING ‘ANTI-BILL’ RIGHT NOW_ ," Bill said, looking _highly_ uncomfortable.

Dipper crossed his arms, looking at Bill uneasily and a little skeptically. (Especially when Miz snorted in amusement.)

Mabel, not to be deterred, followed up Bill’s revelation with: "Did you two grow up together?" instead. At the pair of confused looks she got from Bill and Miz, who turned to face her, she added, "You said Miz is your sister! Was Miz checking up on you at the Shack because she was worried about you and hadn’t seen you in ages?" Then she gasped. "Did your parents _really_ give you the same name?" Miz twitched. So close, yet so far. It wasn’t the same name with her and Blue, but Liam and...

Dipper slapped his forehead. "Mabel," he complained. "They just _admitted_ that she’s another--" he grimaced and gestured at Bill, "-- _him_ \--" Dipper hissed out, instead of saying ‘Bill Cipher’ out loud, knowing their great-uncle would hear him if he said Bill’s name, "--not _actually_ his sister--"

"Dipper! You don’t know when they could’ve met!" Mabel told her twin brother quite seriously, nearly aghast.

Miz let out a soft giggle at Mabel’s words. "Yeah, well… I kinda named myself Bill because I saw that the other ones were called that. And even if I had chosen a different name, it wouldn’t have stopped me from being the Bill Cipher of my dimensional set," she told them, as she looked up at Bill and leaned into his side. "My Birthers actually never gave me a name. And when I went out to find the others I go by a different name to avoid confusion."

"That… is only half-true," Bill told them. He’d worried what would happen if his Zodiac realized Miz was a ‘Bill Cipher’, because he’d thought they’d get stuck on THAT like that Stanford did and stop listening completely. But... Stanley hadn’t done that before... and Pine Tree and Shooting Star weren’t doing that NOW... so now he wasn’t too worried about _this_.

Mabel gasped. "Your parents didn't name you?" She felt sad about that. What kind of parents didn't name their own kid?

"No," said Bill. "Her ‘parents’ named her before that. Her ‘Birthers’ didn’t." He gave Miz a long look. Did she not want to tell his Zodiac about being human once, before?

Miz played with her doll. "I have a complicated backstory," she mumbled. "Like… it would take ten chapters to explain it all."

"Don’t start writing journals like that idiot down in the sand," Bill said in a monotone, of that Stanford. " _Please_."

"Hey," Dipper complained. He had his own journal, too! (He didn’t exactly feel much better when the next thing Bill did was wave a hand at him and say, "I’ll wait to judge YOURS until AFTER you’ve _finished_ it and I READ IT! HAHA!" If anything, it made him feel worse… and _very_ glad that he’d left it behind at the Shack instead of trying to bring it with him.)

Miz pouted. "I'm not usually the type to keep a diary." She’d only done it back in Flatland when she'd been afraid of forgetting her human life. Now, with her memories set in energy and power she didn't have to worry about forgetting unless she just didn't pay attention. She was still a bit of a spazz. She wiped at her eyes. "But Ford got really upset when he realized WHAT I was… I didn't think he would do that… I didn't mean to break him… but..."

"Are we REALLY going to talk about this RIGHT NOW?" Bill muttered partially under his breath. "It’s bad enough YOU TWO idiots know it. If you say ANYTHING around _that Stanford_ about it…" Bill looked uncomfortable again.

"...What?" Dipper said suspiciously, while Mabel looked worried.

Bill grimaced again. "-- _I don’t know_ , all right?" Bill snapped out. "I don’t know _WHAT_ he’ll do, not for certain," he told them, leaning back against the railing hard. "He gets unpredictable on the details for things like this; it makes it hard to plan," Bill groused, folding his arms again. "What I _do_ know is that anytime he’s ever seen or met anyone who is ‘okay’ with ‘Bill Cipher’, he’s attacked them. Shot at them and tried to kill them," Bill told them, the safety of Stanley’s ‘family’ overriding all else in this instance, because they **needed** to know how dangerous it was to say the wrong thing around that Stanford right now. Bill didn’t want to risk losing any of his other Zodiac to that Stanford’s downright stupidity! "And he thinks-- _thought_ \-- that Miz is…" Bill let out a huff. "So if you don’t hate her like you hate ME…" Bill trailed off, letting the implications sink in a bit. Because Pine Tree and Shooting Star _weren’t_ stupid.

Miz shifted in place. "He might get upset again? We don't know. And he might hurt you." She squeezed her Kirby. "I don't want to see you guys get hurt."

Mabel let out a laugh. "Grunkle Ford’s not going to shoot us!" she said, then looked over at her brother, and her face started to fall. "...Dipper?" she said. "Grunkle Ford-- he--" But Dipper kept not answering, and he had on his thinking face.

Mabel shook her head and turned back to face Bill. No. No! This was just like the portal, and Grunkle Stan! "--He loves us!" he told Bill. "He’d _never_ try to hurt us! Never!"

Bill looked down at her, and told her, quite simply (with the surety of the memories of a hundred dimensions, and the fates of many _many_ more of his _OTHER_ puppets, to back him up…) as he looked her right in the eyes: "He’ll think that killing you is saving you. From me."

Mabel stared up at him, not comprehending. Miz rubbed her eyes. "This is why my existence is the problem…" she muttered.

"No," Bill told his sister. "There are others. It’s better that it’s you, really," Bill told Miz. " _You’re_ not inclined to kill him. Or any of my other Zodiac," Bill noted. Then Bill frowned. "Stanley thinks he can get him through this…"

"You don’t think so," Dipper said quietly, and he watched Bill grimace.

"He’s been fighting me for thirty years," the triangle demon told them. "And he’s finally starting to realize, now that I’m back, that he’s _never_ going to win." Bill moved the gaze of his eyes down towards Dipper -- with a cold look in them that Dipper _really_ didn’t like, as Bill said, "But he’s not able to accept the possibility of killing me or _dying trying_ anymore, because he’s too afraid of what will happen to _you_ if he’s not alive and nearby to protect you." Bill rolled his eyes and shifted in place slightly, leaning back against the railing further (and Dipper kind of wished it would just give out on Bill, because it’d serve the demon right, to have Bill flail a bit and look stupid as he fell to the sand below them).

"So FAILING isn’t an option, and dying BEFORE you two do isn’t an option, but he knows he’s going to do both, and he’s starting to _finally_ realize that HE CAN’T STOP ME." Bill let out a breath. "But he doesn’t want to admit that, so he tries to think of ways to fix that ‘quantum destabilizer’ of his, and the circle, and _EVERYTHING ELSE_ ," Bill waved a hand. "Except along comes someone else who he knows he can’t beat, because they’re like me, only no Zodiac, and he doesn’t even have a prayer of a chance." Bill shrugged. "--He did it to himself."

Miz mumbled, "And I'm not even hostile."

"Yes, _I know_ ," Bill told her. " _Stanley_ knows. _Pine Tree and Shooting Star_ even know it now," Bill told her. "Like I said: **he did it to himself**."

Dipper glared up at Bill from under his hat. Mabel didn’t look very happy with him, either.

"You could tell him--" Dipper began.

"-- _What_ , Pine Tree?" Bill demanded, rounding on him again. "What, _EXACTLY_ should I say?" Bill sneered, standing upright and stalking over to him. "I’ve been trying for YEARS to get him to listen to me properly -- DECADES, even!" He threw his hands out at the sides. "‘Oh, _Bill’s a liar!_ ’ ‘Don’t **ever** listen to _Bill!_ ’ ‘Why, he--’"

"--because you lied to him!" Dipper objected back, getting to his own feet. "You--" Mabel got between them.

"No," said Mabel, "No." Dipper looked angry. "Mabel--" he began, but she looked back at him and shook her head with a strained smile.

She looked back up at Bill who was frowning.

"Did you _mean_ to hurt Grunkle Ford in the woods?" Mabel asked Bill.

Bill glowered. "I didn’t care!" But he also looked away from her as he said it, and-- Dipper suddenly realized that Bill was sounding almost _defensive_. ...And, wait. 'Didn't’? As in, **past tense** didn't?

"What…" Dipper began, but Mabel just patted him on the shoulder.

"Bill," Mabel said, "When you woke up yesterday morning, were you planning on going out into the woods and trying to hurt Great-Uncle Ford?" she asked him again.

Bill’s shoulders came up a bit. His jaw clenched. He _still_ wasn’t looking at her.

Dipper glanced between his sister and Bill, and--

Ohhhhhh… Oh, _wow_. He hadn’t thought...

"--You didn’t, did you," Dipper said, finally picking up on where Mabel had been going with everything. "You and Mabel were gonna go to the _lab_ again, except your… uh… Miz showed up," he said, "And… you _were_ gonna go everyday this week," he said, because he’d remembered that breakfast conversation, but everything had gotten out of whack with Miz showing up and… wait, they hadn’t even been _talking_ about going outside at breakfast, had they?

"You screwed up," Mabel said. "--Poor planning!" she literally pointed out, pointing at Bill, and Bill practically bristled in place, but he wasn’t _arguing_ with her, either, and… woooooow.

If Miz could whistle, she would have because daaaaamn Mabel. And Dipper was practically grinning as Mabel followed it all up with, "And _that’s_ why you should **apologize** to Grunkle Ford! You didn’t mean to do it," Mabel told him authoritatively, hands on her hips.

Bill made a frustrated-sounding series of whistling-clicking noises, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. He did _NOT_ look happy in the least. Miz lightly patted his arm sympathetically. Because damn he just got straight up _destroyed_.

"Nnnnnn -- _Don’t want to!_ " Bill told his Zodiac almost petulantly.

"You’ll feel better!" Mabel told him, and _that_ got Bill rocking back on his feet and turning his head to stare back down at her in something like alarm.

"I will _NOT_ ," Bill said, in tones that sounded almost horrified.

Miz made a snorting sound that made Dipper grin. She said (almost placatingly), "I always feel bad until I apologize. It's why I keep giving Stan stuff."

"No, that’s-- I--" Bill said, glancing over at her, clearly not expecting it from ALL SIDES. His breathing was starting to pick up. Miz took mercy on him: "Take your time."

"You screwed up, and you got your plans all wrong, and you didn’t mean to, so apologize to Grunkle Ford!" Mabel repeated, _not_ letting him take that time herself and bringing the pressure up, instead. "Say you’ll do it!" Mabel pushed him. Bill gritted his teeth. _"Admit it!_ " Mabel repeated firmly, as Bill tried to stare her down, and his eyes… for a second there, Dipper swore he saw Bill’s eyes move side-to-side, just a bit. "Say you’ll--"

" _\--STOP!_ " Bill blurted out, then went almost rigid and wide-eyed with shock. So did the kids. "I--" Bill, still wide-eyed, literally _slapped a hand over his mouth_ , stood up to his full height, and then quickly walked across the deck at a straight-backed march, to then climb hand-over-hand down the ladder at the hatch, to disappear down into the depths of the hold below.

Mabel looked at Dipper, wide-eyed. Dipper looked back, just as surprised. Miz was staring at where Bill had disappeared, down into the hatch.

"Dipper…" Mabel asked. "...What just happened?" Dipper turned to look at the hatch. Bill wasn’t coming back up. He stopped then slowly turned in place to look at Miz.

Miz sighed. "I think… brother doesn't want to admit he did wrong just as much as Ford does," she said quietly. "They're both kinda stubborn…"

"No, you don’t understand," Dipper said, shaking his head. "Bill _never_ uses ‘stop’. He--" Dipper paused. Then he began again slowly, looking over at Mabel. "The only time he’s _ever_ said something like that, was when…"

"...we were fighting him in Grunkle Stan’s mind," Mabel finished the thought.

Dipper frowned. "We were winning, and he yelled... ‘no no no, ENOUGH’," Dipper remembered. "But…" he glanced over at Mabel. "I thought you said _he_ thought he hadn’t lost that time?" Mabel shrugged. And that had Dipper frowning all over again, because… did that mean that there’d been something else Bill had been trying to do just now, that would make him think it was… okay to give up?

Miz frowned. She wasn't quite sure what was happening. Not when she couldn't Feel what was going through Bill right now, with her headband on.

\----

Bill came to a stop at the very bottom rung of the ladder and jumped off. He wasn't feeling quite well as he worked his way to the side of the hold, and sat down to lean his stupid human-ish body back up against the sloping wall, but...

...even as he sat down and all but slid down further to end up lying down across the wooden waterproofed slats that made up the ‘floor’ down there, he couldn’t hold back his grin.

Because maybe he’d gotten it wrong with what had happened in the forest with that Stanford, but... he’d ALSO gotten it wrong with Pine Tree and Shooting Star, TOO.

**They didn’t hate Miz.** They’d actually _ganged up_ on him, _with_ his younger sister. Together. _On the same side._ \--They DIDN’T **HATE** her!

Bill, still shivering from reaction with everything else that had gone wrong, covered his mouth with both hands, to stifle the grin that he couldn’t hold back and the cluster of clicks that bubbled out of him in his glee. --He’d ‘lost’, but _HE’D WON_.

...And they didn’t even _suspect_ it. HA!

\----

(Stan tugged at his brother’s arm. It’d been pretty damn hard to keep him quiet. Ford had almost objected a few times, and damn near let the cat out of the bag when he’d clearly thought Bill was going to attack the kids at the end there. If Stan hadn’t made him hand over his gun first... Stan would've swore they’d gotten caught out earlier when the demons had started watching their words, but after all that…? No. No way.)

(It was probably a good thing that the boat wasn’t completely level, and that there’d basically been that overhang there to keep anybody at the railing from being able to see them. The hard part _now_ was gonna be keeping it from the kids after the fact that they’d been listening in on their conversation from below.)

(He tugged at Ford’s shoulder again, and this time Ford finally started moving. They slowly and silently snuck their way back around to the other side of the boat, again. Only after they were over there, did Ford slowly collapse against the side of the boat and whisper out… "...what…?")

("Yeah, I know," said Stan. "That’s what he thinks of you." Ford turned his head to look at him. "I _told_ you he has you wrong," Stan told him again. "That’s how he thinks.")

("...He’s insane," Ford whispered out, with a touch of shock, and no small growing anger. "I would _never_ hurt--!")

("He don’t know that," Stan said quietly.)

("--He should!!" Ford began, and Stan shook his head.)

("He _don’t know_ that," Stan told his brother, "Because he’s never seen you think otherwise." Ford got quiet, and a little pale. "No, look, _Ford_ \-- that ain’t it!" his brother told him, realizing where he must be going with this. "He was inside your head, yeah, but _he don’t think like we do_. He can’t really predict stuff we haven’t done yet. Stuff we haven’t thought about. And he wasn’t inside your head again, after you got home and met the kids; he hasn't since," Stan told him, and watched his brother grimace. "All he can really do is _guess_ ," he told his brother. "That’s why he keeps on getting surprised by us." That’s why they kept being able to beat him. "-- _He don’t know you._ ")

(At that, Ford stopped to think, and looked a little pensive. ...and then a little ill, as something occurred to him...)

\----

(Meanwhile, in a dimensional set far far away…)

The AXOLOTL twitched when he noticed the Energy levels in the multiverse lessen. As if a great pressure had gone missing. He sighed. **-I keep telling them not to go…-** The salamander shook his head. Still, if he tried to stop them, by force… they would never forgive him. Not if they knew. And since those Doors were a part of their very Being, they would know. It was hard enough to create that Space around all of the 3rd dimension to block Bill from directly accessing it without Bill noticing (it was for their own good) and Ax couldn’t risk upsetting them by blocking off their Doors.

Ax sighed. All he could do, was set up protections in case Bill accidentally led one of _those things_ into this Reality. Really, they should have just obeyed him. Bill listened to most of what he asked of them, why was this so different? From what few strings were left, tying the god of Space and Life to his Alternates, he felt their gazes and attention. They wish to see how this played out. Would this Reality fall as others have? As countless other Realities have been ruined, broken, destroyed, forgotten, discarded and left behind?

The AXOLOTL curled around himself and sighed. It would be easier if he didn’t care for them. It had been so easy the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. Countless Realities created and discarded. Because that was his job. But he’d finally found a Reality he wished to KEEP.

Even just thinking that sent waves of...

~~Doubt. Fear. Joy. Anxiety. Hope. Desperation.~~

...guilt through him.

He was the AXOLOTL. He wasn’t supposed to WANT things.

But somehow, he must have broken. Because he wanted Bill. HIS Bill. The one he had now. He never wanted any of the other Bills he’d worked with ~~created, used, discarded~~ before. They’d been his counterpart. They served their purpose. And they were all ultimately left behind as he Created a new Reality. Tossed aside like an unwanted, broken toy that no longer worked.

And the AXOLOTL knew, that if his Bill ever found out about it...

...they would hate him forever...

That’s why he didn’t want Bill going out there. Meeting one of _them_.

But he wouldn’t stop them. Because that would hurt them too.

The AXOLOTL curled around himself and waited. Waited for his Bill to return to him. Waited as he’d always done. Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait and watch, but never do. He was so afraid. Whenever he’d WANTED something and DID something about it...

_A fracture across all of Existence, an infinite voices screaming out in pain before they were all silenced in an instant…_

...nothing good ever happens if he acts. He’d already been pushing it with what he HAD done. The risk was too great. He would have to wait and hope and dream that his Bill would return to him. That they would be unharmed and unenlightened about what he’d DONE.

That they would still love him.

It was a habit he’d picked up from Bill, the AXOLOTL hummed himself to sleep, the faint, soothing melody rippling across Reality. They weren’t aware of it consciously, but all entities within Reality felt an instant of peace permeate their very souls. None of them would remember it, or even understand that they had felt as such, but for a moment, just a moment, every soul was united. The AXOLOTL slept.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Welp. They're in another dimension now~
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  There's another piece of Mizuuma's AN that's a little more personal. If you want to see it, [go to Miz's fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/42714248#chapter_84_endnotes).


	6. Chapter 75: There are infinite alternate versions of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Many truths were told  
> A backstory unfolds~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 85 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/42937433). It was first posted on Mar 25, 2019.

\---

(MizBill POV)

So… that’s it. I’ve revealed to the kids who/what I am. So far… they seem okay with it? They’re not freaking out or outright rejecting my existence so I’ll count that as a plus?

Oh, who am I kidding? They’re probably gonna be more wary around me. Which sucks, but at least they haven’t run away or broken like Ford did. I still think that’s my fault, somehow? It must be my fault, everything is always my fault… But he seems to be doing better? Still hates me. Even if I DID hurt his feelings that first night… it… was it really that bad? Urgh… I mean, if he’s gonna go around saying shit about other people, he should be ready to accept other people talking shit about him too, right? Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it. But I think Ford’s just more sensitive than I thought?

You know, Seb’s Ford also had a fragile ego. Ugh. What is it with Stanford Pines and being so… easily offended and defensive? Damn fragile egos and low self esteem...

Heck, I have AWFUL self esteem but I'm not the one lashing out to try and put other people down just to feel superior! ...Okay, maybe I'm being unfair. He's got deep set issues that he clearly needs a therapist for. Just like me. Just like brother. And Seb. And probably Stan too. Damn, none of us are well-adjusted entities. At ALL. And really, why is that Stanford so hung up on brother anyway? Sure, brother did awful terrible things to him (most of which I haven't actually Seen yet, I feel like it's the sort of thing I wouldn't like) but brother's been anchored down. And he's learning to be nicer.

Maybe I'm just being naive and dismissive of Ford's feelings...

But what's the point of Ford being so mean to me anyway? I hurt his feelings because I was mad. And that was just one incident! And I haven't done anything THAT bad right? Nothing bad enough that I deserve to be killed? But that's what he wants. That Stanford wants me dead just as much as he wants brother dead, too. He doesn't even care who I am or what kind of person I am, he just knows I'm a Bill Cipher and that fact alone is worthy of a death sentence.

Ugh, we're not the same person. And infinite possibilities means there are GOOD Bills out there too! Doesn't he understand that?!

...not that I'm a good Bill. I'm not a good person. But at least I TRY.

Besides! Ford hates me ‘cause I'm a killer? Well, pot and kettle you asshole! My jobs for Time Baby aside, I don't purposely go around killing people! The few times I have killed on purpose were awful people that I didn't like because they were bad people! And Ford thinks that bad people should die anyway so he can't say anything against that right??

...and he thinks that I'm a bad person. That's the problem isn't it? I KNOW I'm not the good guy. But I'm not the bad guy. There technically isn't any good or evil out in the multiverse anyway. There's just selfishness and selflessness. And I AM a selfish person.

I selfishly want friends. Family. People I can love and care for. And once I've found them, I cling on and I refuse to let them go. I found Xanthar. I found Pyronica. I found Ammy. I found Teeth. I found Hectorgon. I found Kryptos. I found Keyhole. I found PaciFire. I found 8-Ball. I found Sebastian. I found Blue.

I found them. They're mine. I will selfishly protect and love and keep them. That's all it is. I'm selfish and if I love someone, I'll love them wholeheartedly. That's all it is. And I've decided that Blue is my Friend, my Brother. And I'll love him. I know he isn't a good person. But that's the point isn't it?

Most people will side with you when you're in the Right. But only a true friend will side with you when you're in the Wrong. And the arbitrary definitions of Right and Wrong are fluid and changing by the day. Morality is relative and I can't keep track of it anymore. All I can trust are my own opinions and feelings.

And I choose to love my brother.

Because being unloved, unwanted and alone is the worst feeling in the world and I won't let him go through that. He's been alone for far too long already--

\---

(3rd Person POV)

Mabel picked up the pink round doll. Grunkle Stan had tossed it up over the railing and onto the deck earlier. She was glancing over at Miz who was sitting against the railings, looking lost in thought. The brown-haired girl sighed and walked over to sit next to her.

"So. You're… like Bill but not?" Mabel asked her. Miz blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and nodded, waving her Kirby's arms up and down. "Alternative dimensions and stuff. It's not as complicated as it sounds." Miz placed the doll in her lap. "I haven't seen them all yet. Haven't met them all. Doubt I can since, y’know, infinite possibilities and all."

Mabel played with her own doll, thinking about the last time, and how sure her Grunkle had been about Bill having possessed. "So… was that other guy who was with you…" Had he been possessed by another Bill?

"Yeah. That was Sebastian Pines, the Bill of his world, one of them at least." Miz shrugged. Since the word was out she might as well explain. "For obvious reasons he couldn't show up as himself, what with the whole family resemblance thing, so I built him a custom vessel. We met a few other Bills too before we stumbled into your dimensional set."

Mabel paused. _That_ hadn’t been what she’d expected to hear! "Sebastian… Pines?" her eyes were wide. Miz nodded. "In his dimension, Stan and Ford were triplets. Seb was their younger brother. He loves them more than anything in the world." Miz sighed as she thought of how angry Ford had been, thinking Sebastian was the same Bill that was terrorizing them.

"...Should we be hearing this?" Dipper muttered. This was different-dimension talk, and it also sounded _really_ weird and messed up. A Bill Cipher as… _family?_ No way!

Miz paused. "You can tell me to stop anytime?" Miz shrugged. "But I wouldn't know what is or isn't ok. And Mabel asked me first…"

Dipper sighed. "Whatever." Miz glanced back and forth between the two. "So… should I keep talking or stop?" Miz asked. Mabel rocked side-to-side in place, because she wanted to hear more about it. But Dipper seemed like he didn't like it. Mabel wasn't sure if she should make the dragon (demon triangle… who used to be human? --No wonder she said her backstory was complicated!) stop or have her keep going. (--Oh, who was she kidding! She wanted to know about their other family!)

"Dip-Dop," Mabel said, turning to her brother. "Tell her it’s okay to talk about dimensions that Grunkle Ford was never in!"

Dipper looked a little uncomfortable. "I…" Miz and Mabel were staring at him with incredibly similar pleading looks.

Dipper almost said something, but then stopped and turned around when they all heard movement at the other side of the ship. "--We can just ask Great-Uncle Ford," Dipper said, with no small relief. He really hadn’t wanted to have to decide that himself.

The first of their Grunkles poked their head up over the side and grumbled a bit as he got himself up over the railing and onto the deck. "Getting too old for this," muttered Grunkle Stan. Great-Uncle Ford followed him over the rail shortly thereafter, and with a _lot_ more ease. "So, uh…" Grunkle Stan began, looking over them.

"-- _Where’s Bill_ ," Great-Uncle Ford said, cutting him off. He glanced over at the sandcastle. "He went below deck," Miz said shyly, shrinking away from Ford and scooting a little further from him.

Great-Uncle Ford frowned furiously. "What’s he doing down _there_ \--" he began, then stopped at a hand on his shoulder, and Stan shaking his head. "--I’ll go get him," Grunkle Stan said. They exchanged a long look, but then Grunkle Stan squeezed his shoulder and patted his arm, before heading for the hatch and the ladder. "Need to get some supplies, anyway," Grunkle Stan called back to them all, which left Great-Uncle Ford looking a bit off-balance. "...Supplies?" Great-Uncle Ford echoed, looking a little surprised and confused. He turned and looked down at Dipper.

Dipper pulled down on his hat a bit, then pushed it up again and shrugged. He didn’t know what Grunkle Stan had meant.

"Food, Ford," was what echoed up out of the hatch as Grunkle Stan grunted and worked his way downwards. A less loud, "Hey, kid…" echoed up from there, too, as their grunkle descended (presumably) deep into the bowels of the ship.

Miz was glancing over at Ford and squeezing her doll. Mabel looked over and sighed. She reached out to poke Miz's arm gently. "Do you… want to apologize to him?" Miz nodded but still didn't move. Mabel glanced back and forth between Ford and Miz. She hated it when people were upset with each other.

"Okay," Mabel said, "HUG IT OUT!!!" Then she flinched as Dipper slapped her in the arm. "Uhm, _maybe~...?_ " Mabel added a bit more tentatively, smiling.

Miz looked up with wide eyes. She turned to look at Ford and shrank into herself again. "I don't think…" Ford was staring down at her like… and twitching a bit. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, then opened his eyes again and cleared his throat. "Ah, no," Ford told them. "No. I don’t think we’ll be doing that," Ford ended rather firmly, looking _very_ tense.

Miz let out a quiet, "-sorry…

And the mood stayed tense for a long few moments... up until something flew up out of the hatch and hit the deck with a ‘BANG!’

Ford spun in place, ducking down slightly to widen his stance while drawing his gun from his holster-- and stopped, staring at the open-topped crate that was now sitting on top of the deck.

A second one flew up and out, and slammed into the deck nearby, about a foot or two away from the first one. Ford frowned, and holstered his sidearm again, straightening.

Miz crept closer. "You guys had FOOD in here?" She blinked and glanced over at the far off rock where the idiot teenagers were still spying on them. They had started getting agitated when they had climbed into their boat. She watched Young Ford grab and just about tackle Young Stan when he tried to run over at the sight of them taking their food crates.

"I…" Ford looked a little tense. He hadn’t actually had much to do with the boat, not since partway through middle school. He’d thought Stan had mostly just been messing around with it for fun after that, still. He hadn’t realized Stan had put _this much_ work into it. (The deck was in far better shape than he last remembered, well-sanded and varnished; the hull was complete, if not necessarily sea-worthy, having not yet had its final sealant applied; and the idea of there being _actual supplies_ on board...)

Ford blinked as Stan slowly climbed his way back out of the hatch, and Bill followed him up shortly thereafter. "Stan, where did you…" Ford hesitated. "Did you have this…" Stan looked up at him like he almost didn’t understand the question, and Ford shook his head again. " _How_ did you pay for all this?"

Miz glanced over, bit her lip and looked away.

"Uh, from the summer jobs?" Stan said, as he walked over and crouched down next to one of the crates.

Ford stared at him. "I thought you used that money for dates with Carla!"

"Nah," Stan said. "Two of ‘em went to the boat, one of ‘em went to date-stuff." He pulled out a packet of beef jerky. "Just like I had one part-time job for the boat during the school year, and one for the date-money." Stan grimaced. "Probably why Carla left me," Stam added, as he set down the jerky, and pulled a couple bottles of water out of the other crate. "Was spending less money on her than the boat."

"But…" Ford trailed off. (Stan had only started dating Carla in the last year of high school. He’d been holding down part-time summer jobs long before that. He’d always thought Stan had spent the majority of his funds on comic books and candy before that! But, in looking around, and really _paying attention_ to what he saw… Ford realized with a sinking feeling that this must have taken _years_ of effort and--)

Miz opened her mouth, made a frustrated sound and closed it again. She glanced between them all and looked like she wanted to say something but wasn't sure if that would be appropriate.

Bill looked up at her and then sighed. " _You_ ," Bill said to Stanley, "Have BAD TASTE in women."

"Heh, you’re one to talk," said Stanley. "You’ve got ‘bad taste’ in Zodiac." He pulled out a can of beans and a can opener next.

"You say that like I had a _choice_ ," Bill muttered, and that had Stanley stopping in place, to then turn and look up at him.

"Say that again," said Stan, while looking at him dead-on. (Meanwhile, Miz was still making frustrated squeals as she really wanted to reveal the thing she found out from her latest Scan of this dimension and others.)

"Little sis," Bill said evenly, "Do I need to put a curse on you to help you out over there?" as he crossed his arms and looked down at Stanley from where he was standing.

"I wanna tell him!" Miz whined. Bill looked over at her.

"Three days," Bill said. (Ford frowned to himself. Was Bill planning something for the day after they portaled back home? What was Bill up to?)

Stan looked between them. "...Something I should know, kid?" Stan said, straightening up slowly from his crouch into a standing posture.

"It’s fine," Bill told Stanley, still looking over at Miz.

Miz shook her head. "Not about _that_ thing. About Carla," she groaned.

Stan’s eyes narrowed. "You keep your eyes offa her and your hands and junk to yourselves," he said slowly to the two demons on deck. "She didn’t do nothin’ to you."

Bill let out a sigh. "Do you see me doing anything?" he said, rocking back on his heels and raising his palms. " _Somebody_ thinks some things that were ‘never meant to be’ need FIXING," he said. "The same way that, HMMMM, she maybe thought they needed FIXING when she was trying to tell me how I don’t know my own Zodiac _two nights ago?_ " Bill added, with an edge to his tone. "Because that went SO VERY WELL that she’s _still_ trying to apologize over it, because she STILL ‘feels so bad’ about it?" Bill prompted her.

Miz quieted. "Should I not say anything?"

"Take it from someone who has been ‘called up’ on almost COUNTLESS occasions to ‘deal with’ an ‘ex-’ who has cheated on someone else," Bill drawled out. "Generally my client at the time." He grimaced. " _Generally_." He shook his head and continued. "Humans? Are _almost_ THE WORST about all that stuff. _Hormones_." Bill waved a hand and got a disgusted look. " _Try_ to stay away from all of it," he told her. " _Really_ ; do." Bill let out a sigh. "It’s _far_ more trouble than it’s worth." Bill looked off into the distance (while the rest of his Zodiac alternated between staring at him and exchanging glances). "Ended up murdering nearly a whole Russian monarchy in sequence over just that sort of thing, once -- and then the reigning oligarchy, too." Bill looked like he hadn’t actually enjoyed it, which had even _Ford_ wincing -- especially since _he_ had an idea as to what particular chain of events Bill was referring to...

Miz rubbed her face and took a few deep breaths. "Ok. I won't say anything," she conceded. (Which got her a "Thank you," from Bill.) She didn't want to upset Stan by accident. Even if she really thought she should clear up the misunderstanding from the Stans’ childhood. She sighed. Why did she have to be such a busybody?! She paused. "But wouldn't Dipper and Mabel have done something along those lines to try and 'fix’ things too?" she asked.

("What, like they did trying to go back in time and write themselves out of existence?" Bill muttered out, which Stan didn’t seem to hear, but it sure as hell caught Ford’s attention.)

Stan raised an eyebrow at Miz. "What are you even talking about?"

Dipper put it together first. "Wait, did Carla have something to do with Grunkle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford--"

Stan frowned. "No," Stan said. "The hell did you get that idea?" he asked the rest of them, looking around.

Bill let out a deep sigh. " _Someone_ has an underdeveloped sense of causality," Bill announced. "And has not looked at _nearly_ enough dimensions to get a sense of how things GENERALLY go with these two." Bill leaned back a bit, and looped his arms behind his back. " _Go on_ ," he told Miz. "Go look at some of the _others_. Feel _free_ ," Bill said dryly -- because the cat was out of the bag, as it were, in Miz being able to See into other dimensions. After all, Miz had done that right in front of that Stanford in the dimension they’d just been in before this one. Bill wasn’t about to suddenly act as if that was something she COULDN’T do; that would just make that Stanford suspicious.

That Stanford obviously knew and remembered and _believed_ that Miz was a demon. And that Stanford had seen her use an Eye to See across dimensions not more than an hour ago. So either Bill could proceed as if her also having an Eye -- which was rare, but not unheard of in other demons -- _might_ have been a deciding factor in why he’d chosen Miz as a little sister... or he could give it up right then and confirm to that Stanford AGAIN that Miz was a ‘Bill Cipher’ like him. (...That said, Bill _certainly_ wasn’t going to go with the second one of those.)

"My world only has one set. I have no experience with this." Miz sighed. But she leaned against a railing and Flickered, backing out of the conversation as she tried to _learn_. Her expression was confused. "I am so glad my world only has one set to keep track of… this is so complicated…" she muttered.

(Ford frowned at her, wondering what she meant by ‘one set’...)

"Welcome to ‘Nightmare Mode’," Bill said blandly, with a half-snickering smirk and an amused sideways glance at her.

Stan looked annoyed. "Well whatever it is, I don't care." Stan squatted back down and pulled out some more food. "Water under the bridge, anyway. Doesn’t really matter."

Dipper frowned and looked over at his sister. (He didn’t get why Miz had brought up being able to See things if they were trying _not_ to remind Great-Uncle Ford that she was a Bill Cipher. But, more importantly just then, knowing that wasn’t just a thing that might mean something to Grunkle Stan...) "It might matter to--"

"--Wait," Ford cut in. "What did you mean, ‘write themselves out of existence’?" Ford protested to Bill, looking down at the two niblings.

"What the kid said," Stan said without even looking up, which left Ford looking startled. "It’s pretty simple, Ford," his brother told him, pulling out another can of beans from the crate. "No broken science fair experiment means you get to go off to your fancy school. _That_ means you probably end up someplace that ain’t Gravity Falls; someplace bigger and better, that keeps you so busy that you have even less time for your family." The twins frowned at each other, while Stan set the can down on the deck, and reached back into the crate. "Meanwhile, _I’m_ who-knows-where on my boat. Maybe I’m doin’ okay, maybe not." The kids looked startled at that pronouncement, and exchanged glances. Stan grimaced, pulled out a final box of crackers, and then slowly lowered himself down to sit on the deck properly. "Either way, neither of us are taking care of Shermie when that pregnancy scare happens, and guess who probably doesn’t get born after our ma and pa are finally done talkin’ them out of things?"

"...What?" said Ford. He hadn’t realized… _what_ had happened with their little brother?

Stan sighed and looked up at Ford. "Couple years after you, y’know… with the portal?" Stan grimaced. "Shermie showed up on the doorstep of the Shack. I took ‘im in," Stan told his older twin brother. "Took care of ‘im. Shermie was a _mess_ ," Stan said. "Me not being there? Shermie not having anybody on his side back then? Means no nephew, and no grandkids."

"Because Stan's a good man." Miz smiled gently. She gave Stan a soft look (and the old man twitched at the awe and admiration in her gaze).

"Uh, heh. Nah," Stan waved off, looking hugely uncomfortable. "He’s family. Ma and pa just didn’t get it, is all," he frowned. "Too much crazy Jewish stuff, and the community, and ‘what will people think’, and all that noise. Like I care about any of that," Stan huffed out. But then his frown turned into a glower as he looked over at the niblings. " _These two_ know the story. They knew _exactly_ what they were doing, coming here. Tryin’ to do what they were doing, tryin’ to go back in time." Stan did not look very happy with either of them, and they both wilted and tried not to squirm under his gaze.

Ford turned towards Dipper and Mabel, absolutely aghast. ...No, not just aghast. He looked _gutted_. (Whether or not Stanley was correct in his premise that neither of them might have been around, let alone able to take care of, their little brother at the time was, to Ford, not the issue. The point of the issue _at-present_ was that...)

"Dipper, is this true?" Ford asked of his young protege. "Did you two think it possible that you might cease to exist, if you had been successful?" Had the niblings really believed they were putting themselves and their own existences in jeopardy in this way, in attempting what they had?

Dipper pulled down on his cap, looking down. Then he looked up again, and the look in his eye was combative. So was Mabel’s; the glint in her eye and her hands-on-her-hips stance said it all, and then some. (He and Mabel _had_ talked about the dangers. They’d decided the risk was worth it. Helping their grunkles, stopping Bill; it would have been worth it! If they’d been able to pull it off--)

"Grunkle Stan wasn’t doing _anything_ about Bill," Dipper said adamantly. He looked over at Stan. "You’re not doing _anything_ about--!!" Dipper protested, and Miz twitched, unhappy with how Dipper wanted Bill to have _stuff_ done to him. Did he want Bill to be punished? Like, a proper punishment?

"Yeah, I am," Stan said suppressively, staring Dipper right in the eye.

"You’re _helping Bill!_ " Dipper complained. "And Great-Uncle Ford _keeps_ getting _hurt_ \--!!"

"--I’m fine, Dipper," Ford reassured him, stepping forward, hands outreached, palms forward, and it hurt his heart to see Dipper take a step back, and Mabel looking so very very worried. (He could hardly imagine how very wrong things had gone, that the niblings had gotten the idea into their heads that potentially _writing themselves out of existence_ was preferable to him-- Ford knew he had to do better. ...Somehow.)

"No, you’re not, you-- you--" Dipper grabbed at his hat again with both hands. "You don’t even know what _day_ it--!"

"June 30th, 2013," Ford said as firmly as he could. "Ah, in the dimension we just came from, forty-six-apostrophe-backslash." And while the two of them were looking shocked (and the two demons were left blinking, wondering what _that_ meant for what Ford thought of them), Ford took another few strides forward and squatted down in front of Dipper. "I’m sorry, my boy," he said, "Mabel," he sighed, looking over at her also. "I…"

While their not-quite argument was happening, Miz glanced back over at the younger versions of the Stan twins. They were trying to sneak closer now, probably getting bored and wanting to do more than watch them stand around talking without being able to hear what was going on.

"HEY!" Bill yelled out, stomping forward and starting the two younger Pines that were out there. "Bill, don’t--" Stan started to growl out, but it was a bit too late, as Bill grabbed two small objects out of a pocket and whipped them with unerring accuracy -- one after the other -- at both of their heads.

The younger ‘grunkles’ ducked, but the objects rebounded off of the ‘covering’ rocks near them (because _physics_ \-- Bill hadn’t been aiming at where they _WERE_ , he’d been aiming at where he’d been sure they were GOING TO be) and then cupped his hands and yelled out, "PAYMENT FOR SERVICES RENDERED! AND YOUR BOAT!"

"No, it ain’t, and _we AIN’T TAKING the boat!_ " Stanley called out, then let out an "Ugh," as, to Bill, _that_ apparently translated to: "STEALING YOUR BOAT FOR TWO DAYS!! WITHOUT BURNING IT AT THE END!"

Miz grinned wickedly. "We’ll give it back later thanks~" she called out, then added, "I'll even refill the food stores!"

"NO, SHE WON’T, THAT’S FOR THE FOOD, TOO!" Bill called out himself, giving her a quelling look. She needed to stop giving people stuff! Bill made a mental note to explain to her about that sort of thing later.

"Hey, this is gold!" came an exclamation from behind one of the rocks, and Bill grinned as Stan let out a groan.

Ford and the niblings were startled out of their own talk at the mention of gold, and Stan’s groan. "What?" Ford asked, then frowned. "Where did you get--!"

"Wait, that really was real gold?" Mabel asked next, looking over at Bill, as he smugly walked back over to them from across the deck.

"Yes!" said Bill, while Ford said, "Mabel, where did he get--"

"--I made it," Bill cut in before Mabel could. "I _told_ you to take your time with the spaceship," he not quite teased Ford (and there was an undercurrent to his tone that made it clear he was pissed off with him for some unknown reason). "But did you listen to me? --Common refrain: NO! You did _not!_ " which got him a glare out of Ford.

"Sixer, they've got gold!" Young Stan practically squealed out. "They’re _real_ pirates!" A quieter voice echoed out in wonder, saying, "These look like real Spanish doubloons…!"

Ford’s shoulders dropped and he gave Bill a long, hard stare. Bill just grinned.

"Kid," Stan said tiredly. "I _told_ you I was paying for stuff."

"Paper money could get wet or blown away; they might never find it belowdecks," Bill said breezily, walking over to him, to turn in place and sit down cross-legged next to him. "You can make it up to me when we get back, with a ‘ _nice_ ’ easy two-man con," Bill told him almost conspiratorially.

"...Kid," Stan started to say, in tones that made it clear what he thought of _that_ idea (that he was about to shut Bill down), when Bill said next: "Unicorns."

Stan stopped and eyed the kid sideways, especially at the "Ugh, _unicorns_ ," produced from Mabel.

"And treasure. By _scamming_ them out of it," the kid said next, looking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (without a tail), and out-and-out excited and excitable.

Stan continued to eye him sidelong. After a beat, Stan said, "...I ain’t saying ‘yes’ until I know exactly what’s going on, and even then I ain’t saying yes unless I say ‘yes’."

Bill grinned, and Ford dropped his head into a hand and looked like he wanted to collapse on the spot, because _his brother…_

Miz slid down the side of the boat, wanting to check on the young twins up close. She hugged her doll and called out to them. "Hi~" she said. "Are you gonna spy on us all day or are you actually gonna say something?"

This was enough to have them looking at each other, and then Young Ford straightened up from behind the rocks, about to speak--

"OH! LOOK! ISN’T THAT THE BEACH COPS COMING!" Bill called out next. "GUESS WHAT’LL HAPPEN IF THEY FIND YOU WITH THOSE COINS ON YOU!!"

Young Ford jerked his head over towards the pier, looking frustrated as hell, but Young Stan didn’t even wait to check -- he practically grabbed his brother and then ran off, dragging him along behind him.

Miz pouted before she sent a frustrated look her big brother’s way, once she’d made it back onto the deck. But to this Bill simply said, "This is dinner. Then we need sleep. We can play with them tomorrow." At the absolutely _angry_ glare he got from Ford, and the dark look he got from Stanley, Bill then amended that to a: "...Maybe."

"Fine… but we WILL play with them, right?" she pouted. "I'm not gonna do anything bad."

"Mmm... depends on your definition of ‘play’?" Bill told her slowly, as he got another new set of glares from the younger twins. "But I have a feeling that we might be seeing them again before we leave tomorrow night."

"Doubtful," was Ford’s one-word contribution to the discussion, as he picked up a can of beans and (instead of handing it off to Stan, who had the can opener), pulled out a vibra-knife and used _that_ to open the lid (to the tune of a muttered "...overkill…" from Bill, as the demon opened up the box of crackers for his own meal).

Miz’s tail was out and wagging. "I wanna see them make funny faces!" They were so cute~ the young Ford was like a baby owl! "Like… maybe showing little Ford some cool magic stuff and listening to him squeal at decibels only dogs can hear!"

"Maybe," Bill said rather evenly, almost conditionally, as he pulled out and handed over one of the stacks of crackers to Miz for consumption. She nibbled on them with a happy sound.

"You’re really okay, now, Grunkle Ford?" was Mabel’s quiet question to him at his left. Ford pulled in a careful breath and let it out slowly. "I’m better than I was," he admitted lowly, not letting his voice carry. "But I’m afraid I’m not going to be ‘okay’ until Bill is dead for good," he murmured to her and her brother, almost under his breath. (Ford hardly let himself think of the problem of the other demon(ic Bill Cipher?), at-present. The Bill he knew himself was so much of a threat that, truly, he dwarfed all others until he had been ~~dealt with--~~ destroyed for good--) He handed over the can to his grand-niece, along with a utility spoon from his pocket.

Ford hardly wanted to admit how very much of a tightrope of sanity he felt he was walking just then. Really, the only thing that had kept him from… ‘losing it again’... was the idea that, with the possibility of infinite Bill Ciphers, there was also the possibility of infinite Stanleys and Stanfords like himself and his brother. And the Axolotl was merciful. If there was any justice in the world… each and every Bill Cipher would be killed eventually by their own Zodiac… even the younger one sitting in front of them, if she really was one of them (and not simply a lying demon trying to help Bill drive him insane). It _wasn’t_ a losing battle, so long as he didn’t give up. So long as all of them _never_ gave up and simply-- The Axolotl was merciful.

Miz twitched. She picked up his words and turned her eyes onto Ford with a glare. Dipper and Mabel saw her dark look and shivered. Mabel quickly stood up to hopefully talk her down. "I-I'm sure Grunkle Ford isn't--"

But Ford put a hand on Mabel’s shoulder and pushed down gently. "I can speak for myself, Mabel." He looked over at the young so-called ‘Bill Cipher’, the demon in disguise at present -- or at least thinking s/he perhaps was, still, somewhat in-disguise. "Bill will die and stay dead. I will see to it. ...And I will at least make sure that it is quick," Ford told her. "You have no idea what crimes he has committed, and if you truly don’t believe that people should die if one can possibly prevent it..." He flicked his gaze over to his brother for a moment. "As Stanley has suggested that you might." (Not that Ford would hold his breath for that one, with _any_ demon in existence...) He turned his gaze back to her. "Then if you took the time to look for yourself, you would know that he must be stopped before he kills anyone else. He has already killed far, far too many." Ford’s gaze stared holes into the older Bill -- or would have, had Bill looked anything like concerned at this pronouncement.

Miz stared back, unflinching. "I've decided he's my brother. And I love him. So I won't be happy if he dies."

Ford frowned at her, because that hardly made sense to him at all. If she’d ever been anything like human once, as Bill had said (weeks ago) that she had been, then... "How could you possibly love him? He’s a mass murderer, and delights in causing other people pain."

Miz opened her mouth and then grit her teeth. "I'm not supposed to attack you, verbally, so there's a thing I really want to say but I'm not supposed to," she grit out.

"Very convenient, but I’m not a part of this ‘agreement’ of Stanley’s, and neither are you," Ford pointed out, as he finished carving open another can of beans with his knife. This one he handed to Dipper, along with a utility fork.

Miz straightened, and Stan stepped in, dropping a hand on her shoulder. "Don't," he told her. "Don’t go lettin’ him bait you."

Ford sent Stan a dark glare, and Miz hissed. "So I'm supposed to sit here and let him talk about murdering my brother--"

"Your big brother look worried to you, kid?" Stan asked her. She looked over at Bill, and no, he did not look worried at all. "There anything my brother can say to make you change your mind about the kid?" Stan added.

"...no…" Miz muttered. "But it still makes me unhappy." She was clutching her doll tightly. But she WAS backing down.

"It’s a waste of time, kid," Stan told her, and he felt a bit more relieved that Bill had raised a hand to pat her on the head, and Ford wasn’t saying anything more for the moment, at least. "You’ll just get more unhappy, the more you try and convince him the other way around. My brother keeping you feeling all defensive about it is halfway to winning for him."

"Stanley--" Ford began.

"No, look," Stan said, letting go of Miz's shoulder and gesturing with the water bottle in his other hand. "These two smacked you in the head so hard yesterday afternoon that you were still feeling it tonight so bad, you ended up practically concussing yourself on that barrier the kid’s got across the attic staircase, not thinkin’ clearly." Both Dipper and Mabel winced in sympathy. "Don’t go pickin’ fights you _know_ you can’t win."

"Stanley--" Ford began again, jaw clenched.

"--and don’t go pickin’ fights _I_ know you can’t win, either," Stan told him. "This? Is one of those."

Miz huffed. "You always defended Ford when people spoke bad about him." She looked away, more annoyed than angry now about him having stopped her own defense of Bill. "How is this any different?"

Stan looked down at her, with raised eyebrows. "What, with you wanting to defend your brother?" Besides the kid just not needing somebody to defend him on stuff like this? "--I was bein’ stupid about it back then," Stan told her. "I had no idea what I was doin’, and because of that, they kept on doin’ it." Stan took another drink from his water bottle, then said, "Best way to win a fight is to _never_ have to have it in the first place. You gotta pull out the guns? You’re already bein’ stupid." Stan eyed her. "You want a bully to stop? You hit ‘em where it _actually_ hurts, instead of takin’ swings that won’t connect and are just gonna get you shoved down and stomped." Stan sighed. "There’s a time and place for that, yeah, but this? Ain’t one of those, Miz. Not even a little."

(Ford stared at his brother, somewhat aghast. Stan was… actually trying to help the demon? He could think of no other interpretation for his brother words and actions, just then.)

Miz thought about his words. Stan was secretly relieved she really seemed to be considering it. (He wouldn’t have told her any of this if he thought she was a born killer, to go for the throat. This was the ‘hey, bring it down a notch’ stuff. ...And yeah, Bill hearing it too was probably not that great -- especially since the kid might actually spend more time thinking about the ‘where it _actually_ hurts’ part instead of the ‘avoid it in the first place’ part -- but it wasn’t like he thought it was the kid’s first introduction to the concept of digging the knife in.)

Finally Miz sighed and let the tension drain out of her. "So, ignore the bully and don't feed the troll?" She asked. Yeah, she could do that. She knew Bill had killed a lot of people. But so had she. So had countless other people, organizations and monsters out in the world. But Bill was her brother. She decided this. And she would still want to be on his side. Because she wouldn't let him be alone anymore.

"Stanley," Ford said quietly, " _What_ are you _doing?_ "

"Helping the kid and his sister not get into fights," Stan told him evenly, over the top of his bottle of water. He took another drink, and Ford looked frustrated.

Bill let out a huff of laughter, and Stan glanced over at him. "Not helping, kid."

"It’s just funny," Bill said, then paused. "Well, _hilarious_ , really," he self-corrected.

"Kid…" said Stan, but Ford’s eyes were already narrowing, even as the niblings were glancing between them.

"--What’s that supposed to mean?" Dipper cut in, just as Ford was about to demand it himself.

Bill switched his gaze over to Dipper.

"Kid, don’t," was Stan’s firm response to this. "Do. _not._ "

"Oh, but he asked so very… _nicely_ ," Bill all-but-breathed out, pupils dilated slightly, the corners of his mouth starting to turn up in a--

"---aaaaaCK!" Bill protested, as Stan brought a hand down on top of his head and started mussing up his hair. "STAN--lllee--" Bill complained. (He wasn't whining, oh no, definitely not!)

"Nope," said Stan. "You think I can’t see that coming a mile away? Not doin’ that today, nope. Save it for _later_ ," he told the kid. "I am tired of all of your antics, every last one of ya’, and we are not doing any more of this tonight," Stan said unironically, in the full daylight overhead. (It was nighttime at home, and Stan wasn't _about_ to let _any_ of them get away with not eating or sleeping like it wasn’t -- especially not the kid, or his own brother.)

Miz looked down when her stomach growled. Stan promptly handed over the jerky packet without even looking at her. She ate it quickly -- way, way too quickly -- before glancing over at the ocean. Stan noticed and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Got nets and fishing poles with line down in the hold, if you want to go fishing," Stan told her.

She wiggled. "Can… can I go swimming in my dragon form?" she asked.

Stan glanced over at Bill for clarification and input. Bill responded with, "As long as she tosses on an ‘invisibility bubble’ and a ‘keep away’ ward for humans and cryptids, she should be fine." Bill looked over at her. "Just remember to clean off before transforming back? Scales to skin can end up with some very itchy residue still, especially from seawater!"

Miz nodded. "I learned Prestidigitation ages ago for cleaning stuff." Ford and Dipper perked up at the mention of one of the spells from D, D and more D. Bill just rolled his eyes and called out "Sparkle Fever!" (the name of another DD&MD spell), raining glittering light over the two nerds (...and then Bill blinked and looked vaguely taken aback when Mabel started demanding, "Me, too! Me, too!" while bouncing in place, grinning).

"...Yeah, okay," Stan said, ignoring the prank spell and turning back to Miz. "Don’t go stayin’ out more than an hour, and… I want to be able to see you from here. Me and Bill, in case you run into trouble. You can do that selective spell thing, right?" Miz nodded. "Go for it."

"Thanks mister Stan." Miz grinned before she put her doll down and… shimmered. Stan blinked in surprise as her form shifted longer and larger before the golden creature slithered off the boat and toward the ocean. "Uh…" Huh. That was pretty neat. ...And also kinda a little disturbing. Speaking of which… "She that big before out at the lake?" Stan got a nod out of the kid as he kept munching on his crackers. "That why she eats so much?" A shrug. "Right…"

Mabel was staring in awe. The triangular head with the single eye was kind of creepy but the rest of it was almost pretty. And now she had confirmation that Miz really WAS a Bill Cipher from another dimension. And a dragon! _And_ a dragon girl! "Dipper, look!" Mabel said enthusiastically.

Dipper’s jaw dropped open. "W-wha-ah… Ah?!" He pulled on his hat as he stared at the large serpentine body, antlers and… tentacles?! "Oh, man!"

Ford frowned, having only seen a shimmer in the air and then nothing. He couldn’t see anything that the rest of his family was seeing. At best, he was able to make out a sort of shimmering haze as he stared.

He looked over to Bill, who just _smiled_. "Wouldn’t want you losing your mind again, now, would we Si--" Bill stopped, then looked away.

"I can’t see her," Ford said slowly, as the rest of his family realized something was wrong.

"You can see plenty," Bill said. "Enough to tell if she’s closer or farther away. She won’t sneak up on you."

"You modified her spell?" Stan asked him slowly.

"No, not hers," Bill said. "I tossed a modification to the ‘invisibility bubble’ that’s already been cast on the boat; a Miz-specific modification, as it were." He shrugged. "It works on things -- well, a _Miz_ ," Bill said with a smile, "--Both when she’s inside it and not. The modification goes inactive in a little more than an hour," Bill told them, looking unconcerned. "He’ll be able to see her again after that, unless I renew it."

"Say something before you cast," Stan told the kid. "I shouldn’t have to tell you that."

Bill rolled his eyes. " _Fine_ ," said Bill.

But when Stan grunted out next, "How’m I supposed to tell if it’s you or somebody else," _that_ actually seemed to give Bill pause for a moment. Stan glanced over at him. "What, you thought I was bein’ _arbitrary?_ " Stan sounded almost amused, and Bill pulled a face at him.

Mabel was leaning over the edge of the boat, watching the dragon twist around as she chased down and devoured some unfortunate fish. "Can YOU turn into a dragon?" Mabel asked Bill.

Bill looked over at her. "With my anchor unmodified?" Bill asked her somewhat-rhetorically. "Not a good idea. ...Could make myself LOOK like one easily enough, though, by casting an illusion," he told her. "Or I could create a robotic exoskeleton like Glasses is oh-so- _very_ fond of doing, if I really felt like it." It was pretty clear that Bill wasn’t all that ‘fond’ of the latter idea there, though.

Dipper’s hands were twitching; he really wanted to write down his observations. He wondered if he could ask Miz to let him inspect her when she got back? _Alien dragon!_ ...Who was also a Bill Cipher, sort of, but-- okay! He… probably needed to think this through a little more, but he really _really_ wanted to know, and knowing more about triangle demon transformations _could_ maybe help against Bill later… aaaaand he was just trying to justify this to himself again, wasn’t he. Wow. He was (still) _really_ good at that.

Miz stayed out, playing in the waves a bit as she snagged a fish from time to time, and Mabel and Dipper eventually let their grunkle shoo them back to the crate, to finish eating dinner (though they did keep stealing glances when they could from time to time).

Once Miz had eaten her fill and even caught some other fish in her tendrils, realizing she COULD sting like a jellyfish if she wanted (that's pretty neat. Her powers did such cool things when she let them go wild), she swam back to the shore and crawled up out of the water, with several paralyzed fish curled up in her mane. --She’d even caught some food for everyone else!

Bill kicked back and relaxed on the deck himself, laying flat, once he was done eating (and drinking a bottle of water -- yes, Stanley, he wasn’t stupid).

Once the kids were done, Ford cleaned up after them and pulled out and ate a few things from the crates himself. He felt a bit odd about it (and particularly did not like that Bill had apparently _paid_ for it in gifted gold coins of dubious value to their younger counterparts), but with the way Stan was glaring at him, he had a feeling that not eating (or refusing to eat) would lead to a fight that he was not up for at present, and very much did not want to have with his brother.

"Does anyone want some fish?" Miz asked as she walked back to the boat, dripping sea water.

"Heh," said Stan. Because this was really a thing for her, wasn’t it? "Gimme a minute," Stan told her.

Stan got up with a grunt, and made his way down into the hold below via the hatch again. Sure enough, it was only about a minute before he was back up with a strong-looking rope and some hooks. "We can hang ‘em up on the deck, save ‘em for later," Stan told her, tying up the line between two eyelets. "They can dry out a bit up here."

Miz's tendrils extended, holding out the fishes she caught. "Thanks," Stan told her, taking them from her one at a time and jamming them onto the hooks. Ford watched this carefully. He still couldn’t quite see _her_ form, but he _could_ see the fish she was carrying.

"I only see floating fish," Ford told Dipper, as the boy looked up at him with questioning eyes. "A bit of a shimmering outline of the rest, but nothing more." It seemed somewhat large, whatever this other Bill’s form was.

Mabel was already reaching her hand out to touch her. "Can I pet you?" she asked. She remembered how much Miz had enjoyed being petted by her before, the last time Miz had been there and looking anything like dragon-y.

"Mabel!" Dipper hissed out, and Ford straightened in alarm. --They weren’t at the Shack, there was no barrier that could keep her out anymore, and this Bill had no real reason to pretend anymore to be able to lure them out into the open to get at them. They _were_ out in the open, already.

Miz cleaned and dried herself. "Head pats?" She wagged her tail eagerly, the long limb whipping through the air behind her. "Yes, please!" She wiggled her body back and forth. "I love head pats!" and Shooting Star was safe! Miz lowered her head against the railings and stared at Mabel like a pleading puppy (granted, a one eyed puppy with a mouth large enough to swallow a man whole...).

"Miz, size down first?" Bill called out almost lazily, sunning himself across the deck. "Make it easy for Shooting Star to reach." Miz’s eyes widened, then she shook herself in a full body shiver and Mabel stared in awe as she shrunk down to the size of a large python instead of a bus. She climbed onto the boat, claws skittering along the wooden planks in her excitement as she curled up quickly and sinuously in Mabel's lap.

Ford shivered as, sure enough, the time on Bill’s spell ran out, and he finally got a good look at Miz in her new form. Dragon. Man-eater. Bill Cipher. She--

...was practically purring as Mabel started patting and petting her on the head. Miz went limp in seconds, draped over Mabel's legs as she stroked a hand along Miz's back and scratched behind her antlers.

Ford’s mouth dropped open slightly.

(Bill was side-eyeing Ford carefully, watching his reactions like a big-brotherly triangle demon… by using the sensors in his suit, and activating the privacy-mode interface that beamed information directly into his eyes. To anyone watching Bill, it would have looked like he’d been lazily staring up at the sky...)

"Thaaaat… is not like Bill at all," Dipper noted under his breath, as he stared at his sister and Miz. Because Miz was acting… pretty much exactly like she had before, the last time she’d come to visit, and Bill... pretty much hated to be touched, as far as Dipper had been able to tell so far. Bill definitely never looked _comfortable_ when he was sitting there in Grunkle Stan’s chair, doing the whole ‘hand on the head’ thing. Dipper was actually pretty sure that Grunkle Stan usually did that mostly just in the evenings, because by then Bill was just straight up getting too tired to put much energy into arguing with Grunkle Stan over it, or slapping him off (and then risking facing the consequences for doing _that_ that same night, when he was already so tired).

"So… you… like being touched?" Dipper asked Miz, as he warily got up and approached his sister and the small dragon lying across her lap.

Miz purred softly, a rumbling sound that reminded Dipper more of a motor than a cat. "Only by people I can trust…" she mumbled sleepily. "Shooting Star is safe. She's nice…" --And only because Miz knew Mabel would never willing hurt someone who was helpless. And a cute animal? Bonus points!

Stan was finished puttering around with whatever he’d been doing with the fish over at the other railing, still. He was ambling back casually, wiping his hands off with a rag. The sight of Mabel petting the smaller dragon-Miz didn’t even seem to really register with him as anything like weird or out of place, Ford realized; his brother just seemed to note it, and move on.

"Could use some help with the bedrolls on the second deck," Stan said as he walked over, and it took Ford a moment to realize that his brother was talking to _him_.

"Why not get Bill to help you with it," Ford told his brother almost caustically, glancing over at said triangle demon. Bill wasn’t doing anything really, just lying flat on the deck in the sun, his head tilted back as he stared up at the sky. But then Bill turned his head and his neck, to look towards Miz and the kids, looking perfectly relaxed and at ease, with a smile on his--

Ford was up and had taken three steps, before Stan intercepted him and forcibly steered him towards the hatch.

"No," said Stan under his breath.

"Stanley, he--" Ford’s voice was shaking. _He_ was shaking, because _Bill looked_ \--

"You hear me? _No_ ," Stan said, practically shoving him down.

"The kids--" Ford began, still staring at Bill.

(-- _happy, Bill didn’t **deserve** to look happy, to look safe, to--_)

"--Are safer with you down on the second deck right now _with me_ ," Stan said. "Don’t _argue_ with me right now, Ford," Stan said.

(-- _look and feel **safe** , not when **he** didn’t, when **he** didn’t feel safe, he didn’t get to, Bill shouldn’t get to, he_\--)

Stan shoved Ford down further and barely stopping short of _kicking_ him down the ladder, as he pushed himself down after him.

Meanwhile, Dipper was slowly reaching out his hand towards Miz, before Miz opened her eye to stare at him, and he flinched and froze in place. "Ask first," Miz said firmly.

Dipper blushed. Right. "Um, can I study you?" he asked.

Miz narrowed her eye at him and Dipper was about to back off before she said, "Nothing invasive, right?"

Dipper sputtered. "O-of course not!" She peered at him, clearly not trusting him as easily as she did Mabel but finally nodded. Dipper reached out his hand, acutely aware that Miz was watching him closely, and placed his hand along the side of her long body. He blinked. She was _warm_. He noted that she was incredibly smooth, the lines of her bricks being the only real texture he could feel. She was firm, too; Dipper pressed a little to feel her side compress slightly but not much. Miz was still watching him closely.

Dipper's hand moved up her body slowly, and he noted that it didn't matter which direction his hand was moving; her bricks felt the same either way, unlike a snake or a shark that had scales facing one direction. He finally reached her head and squeaked, freezing in place again, when one of the black tendrils curled around his fingers.

"Um… can you let go?" Dipper asked. Miz forced her tendrils to release him and they swayed lazily. Dipper took one between his fingers and pinched it lightly. Miz gasped and pulled her head away. Dipper pulled his hands back quickly. "Sorry!" he cried out.

Miz shook her head back-and-forth. "That felt really weird," she grumbled.

Mabel laughed. "You're doing it wrong Dip-Dop, like this!" Mabel placed her hand among the tendrils and wiggled her fingers as she moved her hand up and down, brushing against the black appendages. At this treatment, Miz let out another purr, going limp once more.

Dipper started petting Miz the way Mabel showed him to, and he felt a small smile grow on his face as he made her purr and stretch out, relaxing and growing less wary of him. This was... pretty cool.

Bill watched them all gently playing together with a smile.

\----

The first thing Ford expected to hear out of his brother as he was forcibly shoved down onto a bench was ‘ _Ford, keep it together._ ’

The first thing he _actually_ heard, after Stan finished lighting a lantern and hanging it off of a nearby hook that, quite frankly, looked like it had been made, sized, and installed for the very purpose of holding that particular lantern, and after Stan sat down right next to him on that bench, was: "Ford, you don’t have to keep it together all the time. Just… maybe try to not fall apart while you’re _right_ in front of the kids."

Ford stared.

"Stanley, this is a wooden boat," he said. "You should _not_ be lighting candles or anything _else_ on fire down here in a contained hold, and _you know this._ "

"Nice to see you’ve still got a twenty-track mind, Ford," Stan said almost grumpily. "You wanna tell me why you almost lost it up there with the kid, just now?"

Ford clenched his hands in his lap. "You shouldn’t be leaving the kids up there alone with--"

"Miz is up there with ‘em," was the next thing out of Stan’s mouth, and it left Ford wondering for a moment if it was he who had begun hallucinating all of a sudden, or his brother who had gone well and truly insane. "--Don’t look at me like that," Stan told him. "That girl may be a demon, but I’ve been talkin’ with her. There’s no way in hell she’d hurt those two kids, or anybody _else’s_ kids, either."

"You…" Ford shivered. "She _just admitted_ that she’s a--"

"--Bill Cipher, yeah," Stan said. "But the kid, Bill, wasn’t lying about her being a ‘human’ demon, either." The ‘and you know it’ was implied. Ford had heard Bill say it, and while Ford had known that Bill had been holding back _something_ (...and oh Axolotl, now Ford knew what that _‘something’_ had been, angels of logic and mercy help them all...), he’d also recognized himself that Bill had not been lying about that.

"--She used to have _sisters_ , Ford," he was told next. "Human sisters, younger than her. Somethin’ happened, she ended up a triangle, then a ‘Bill Cipher’. She’s six hundred billion years old or somethin’, now. Life ain’t fair."

"That’s…" _not possible_ , Ford wanted to say, because... Well. It didn’t make any sense. It was dream logic, at best. --He had to be dreaming.

...But Bill had said he wasn’t dreaming. And Bill hadn’t been lying. Ford let out a shaky breath. (Except Bill usually said he _was_ dreaming, when he…)

(But that wasn’t really Bill. It had never been Bill. It had just, just been an _idea_ of Bill, a _kinder_ Bill, after he’d had the plate put in, after Bill had stopped being able to visit him in his dreams. After Ford had trained himself well-enough to keep Bill out, using the plate. He had to want it badly enough -- to not want Bill inside his head, _no matter what_ \-- and the plate would take care of the rest.)

\--It was all fine, regardless. Bill couldn’t get inside his head anymore. Really, Bill hadn’t been inside his head again since-- since--

...and then Ford felt himself pale all over again. Because Bill had visited his dreams the first night he’d been back in Gravity Falls. He’d had the plate in _then_ , and he hadn't wanted him in his mind or his dreams, then. ~~(...Had he?)~~ But that hadn’t kept Bill out.

And Bill had jumped out of his ‘three dimensional’ body, his physical form, when they’d been in the Fearamid. The ‘Penthouse suite’. Planning to jump into his _own_ head and just read the equation, take what he wanted. -- _Ford_ had been the one who’d said, ‘not so fast’, while Bill…

... _Bill_ had acted like he could have entered his mind, right then and there. While he was _still conscious_. **Without** having gained his permission.

Ford slowly raised a hand to his head.

...Bill had shook Stan’s hand and proceeded to jump right into his brother’s head without reservation. He’d thought Stan was him. --The metal plate was _supposed_ to keep Bill _out_. Simply _shaking hands_ shouldn't have been enough. It was literally supposed to be the equivalent of a physical and mystical barrier, to _keep Bill out no matter what_ , so long as he didn't want Bill inside his mind.

Even though he’d wanted to save the kids, he didn't want Bill inside his mind. Before Stan had offered up his desperate ‘hail Mary’ of a con, Ford had steeled himself to trying to convince _himself_ that he really _wanted_ to let Bill back into his mind. For the kids -- to give Bill what he wanted, in order to save them. That it was what he wanted; that saving the kids meant wanting to let Bill in.

Bill should have at least thought if the possibility that Ford might try to go back on his own end of the deal, or simply have trouble following through with it… shouldn’t he?

Ford had been sleep-deprived and still half-delirious from torture and pain when Stan had offered up his suggestion. And with the way Bill had been acting earlier, insisting that Ford let him inside his mind… Ford hadn’t questioned _why_ Bill had thought that that was even possible, when Bill knew about the metal plate, and knew that while Ford didn't want him inside his mind, there was no doorway or gateway for access to his mind. Bill _should have known_ that Ford would not have been able to have changed his mind so easily, after so many years of consistent and constant effort otherwise.

Unless…

No. No. No.

"...I’m not safe," Ford said shakily, raising his other hand to his head and clutching at it.

"Huh?" said Stan, as Ford swallowed hard.

"My mind… isn’t safe…" Ford felt strained, like he was being stretched to his limits, and beyond them. "I can’t…" He felt his breathing go completely off, but he couldn’t calm down, he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t--

"It doesn’t _work_ ," Ford barely got out; he was bent over nearly double. "It doesn’t-- it doesn’t keep him--" out, and BILL WAS HERE _RIGHT ABOVE THEIR HEADS--_

Ford felt an arm around his back and a hand at his waist, and he was nearly pulled backwards off of the bench. The next thing he felt was a ‘CLANG’ as Stan rapped his knuckles against his forehead.

"Knucklehead," Stan told him, as Ford gasped for breath as the vibration ran through his skull. "Don’t worry about it."

And by this point, Ford was feeling fairly hysterical. " _Don’t worry about it?!_ "

"Yeah," said Stan. "No way in hell the kid’s gonna fall asleep without a barrier up that’s at _least_ as good as your unicorn voodoo stuff," he was told, in tones of practicality. "I’ll just get the kid to make it a little larger. You can sleep under it with him, do that ‘hold his hands and mouth’ thing again, or whatever. It’s fine," his brother told him, as he literally _shrugged it off_.

Ford stared at his brother. And then Ford let out a stuttering giggle, as the world started to tip sideways on him again.

"C’mon, Ford-- ack!" said Stan, and then Ford felt a rush of breath leave him, and--

\--he was a mess of limbs against a hard surface and trying to catch his breath and--

Ford was blinking up at the ceiling. Which was the deck of the boat above them.

"Stanley?" Ford asked faintly, continuing to lie right where he was. "Did we just fall off of the bench?"

"...Ow," came the reply from his brother.

Ford thought about this carefully, giving it all the due consideration and weight it deserved.

"...Apologies," Ford finally said to his brother, rather carefully. "I don’t believe I’m feeling particularly well."

"Yeah, Ford," was the slightly muffled reply he got right back. "Kinda noticed."

"I…" Ford swallowed. He stared up at the ceiling. (Bill was _right above the heads_ , and...) "...I think I’m just going to lie here for awhile, if that’s alright with you," Ford told his brother

Ford heard a soft sort of grunt, that almost sounded more like an exhalation of breath, really. 

Ford frowned.

"...Stan?" No response. Ford turned his head and looked to the side.

For a moment, Ford felt a lance of panic run through him, reaching for his brother, worried for a moment that Stanley might have hit his head, or worse--

But then Ford realized, as he stared at Stan’s head on his shoulder...

...his brother was _asleep_.

Ford stared at this. " _Stanley_ ," he said, almost scandalized. (It wasn’t _that_ late at night back home… was it?)

\---

"Say ‘Ahh’." Dipper peered into Miz’s mouth as she opened it wide. He was making so many amazing discoveries! She could swallow things much larger than herself, mouth stretching impossibility wide so she could dig into whatever it was with her sharp little teeth. Dipper had fed her another fish, watching the process with the same fascination he had for watching those nature documentaries about wild animals. He even had a brief thought that Miz would be the coolest pet! …until he remembered she wasn't an animal and he berated himself for even thinking something that stupid.

"Ahh…" Miz said. Or rather, didn't say. Dipper had quickly discovered that Miz's mouth didn't move when she spoke. In fact, Dipper was pretty sure at this point that she didn't even have the anatomy required for speech.

"--How are you speaking?" Dipper asked.

"Telepath," Miz responded. "I'm projecting my words outward and you're picking them up." She closed her mouth and shook herself. "It's another natural thing my powers do. It's not a sense, it’s communication when I don't have a mouth." She flopped down again in Mabel's lap. "I'm more used to speaking like that than using a mouth."

Dipper stared, eyes going wide in alarm. "Wait, you're in our minds?" Great-Uncle Ford would have a fit--! But Miz just scoffed at his question.

"No. Projecting my thoughts doesn't need me to be inside someone's head. I send it out and you pick it up." Miz rolled her eye, and Dipper paused to think about that. …Wait. Did that mean that… normal humans were all at least a little bit psychic, then? If they were picking it up...

\--Wait. Better question: "So… could you project dreams to people? Without going inside their Mind?" Because Dipper was pretty sure that Great-Uncle Ford would have an even _worse_ problem with that.

"Yeah." Miz blinked at him. "It's how I run my cooking show." Aaaaaand, that was NOT the direction Dipper had thought this conversation would go. "Cooking _what?_ "

"Oh, back in my dimension, I run a cooking show that I just project out into the multiverse inside the dreams of sleeping people. Like a satellite dish. It's great because I don't have to pay a network for a time slot." Miz shrugged, then her eyelid drooped low and she started kicking a leg when Mabel switched over from 'just' petting her to giving her a belly rub. "Ooooh~"

Dipper waited until Mabel was done with distracting Miz like that so badly, making her feel so good with the petting (on purpose), before asking his next question. "So… is there a way to block these projections?" (Because if there _was_ and they could get it out of her--)

Miz nodded. "They can tune out of my dream if they wanted, just… leave and go back to their normal dream. Though, a lot of people don't seem to realize they can do that."

Okay, good. They could just warn Great-Uncle Ford, telling him that, and he'd be okay. (Dipper exchanged a glance with Mabel, and got a small nod from her. Yeah, okay, she'd do it.) At least, that was assuming…

"Can you project your thoughts to anyone?" Dipper asked next. "What if they didn't want to hear your thoughts?" ...or tried to block it with a mystic barrier or metal plate or anything else, because he was sure Great-Uncle Ford had said his metal plate should keep Bill out of his mind, but he still heard Miz speak. So there had to be something going on there. (Same thing with the barrier; had she been doing it underneath that, too? She'd been able to eat emotions or whatever underneath it... --They'd definitely have to test this telepathy thing out with her inside the Shack, once they were back…)

The dragon stretched lazily. "I'm not going inside their mind. I'm allowing them to hear bits of mine. If they really didn't want to hear me, they can just _not_ listen. Once again, they don't seem to realize they can do that." Dipper winced at the 'once again’. (Okay, so that made it sound like it was all the same thing?)

"So if I wanted to stop listening to you…" Dipper asked slowly. Was it really that easy? Miz looked at him. "Well, try it?"

Dipper frowned and squinted his eyes. Nothing seemed to happen. He sighed. "Nothing's happening," he complained, and was startled when he heard Mabel laugh. "That means it worked, dum-dum!"

"Huh?" was Dipper's eloquent reply. Bill spoke up from where he was lazing on the deck: "Miz has been singing this whole time."

Dipper blinked. It was that easy? "So how do I turn it back on--"

 _"-ou will make payments for your filthy delusions~ with all the dirty money you have~"_ Dipper heard Miz's voice singing. He shook his head. "Okay. So… I just… want to hear you and I'll hear you?"

"Yup. It's that easy." Miz giggled. "Sometimes though, I have to FORCE people to listen to me because they're jerks who don't listen to what ANYONE says," she grumbled. "Or I'd have to shapeshift some vocal chords capable of pushing out air in the vibrations needed for audio speech… or simply vibrate my bricks into a facsimile of it to hit their ear drums and be registered as speech." which is what created that weird echoey effect.

"That's…" really cool, but also really scary, Dipper didn't say aloud. (Because if she could just _force_ her way into people's heads, no matter what… yeah. Great-Uncle Ford wasn't gonna like this at all.)

But all this left Dipper wondering, though… "Why are you answering all my questions?" Dipper asked her. Because why was Miz was so much more upfront with information than Bill was? (Besides Bill being a jerk, that is.) "--Don't get me wrong, I like that you're telling me stuff, but…" Heck, even when Bill _did_ say things, half the time Dipper swore Bill was saying stuff weirdly on purpose, just... _teasing_ them with stuff that the triangle demon jerk _knew_ they wouldn't get, and--

Miz seemed to notice his confusion. "I actually wanted to be a teacher when I was younger," she told him. "I really liked explaining and teaching my little sisters… and eventually my little brother, about all sorts of stuff." She sighed. She missed it. She'd loved teaching Pyrone and Pynelope when they were younger. Quackers always listened when she explained things. And Ammy could listen to her talk for hours and hours without getting bored.

"Sisters and a brother?" Mabel asked. She turned to Bill. "Did you have siblings too?"

Bill went a bit rigid, but he laughed as he said, " _Did_ I? --I have a little sister _right now!_ HA!" The twins glanced at each other, realizing that Bill hadn't actually answered the question, yet again.

Dipper frowned and was about to ask Bill again, a little differently -- because sometimes that actually worked? -- but Mabel put a hand on her brother's shoulder, shook her head, and asked instead, "Bill? When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up? Did you want to be a teacher like Miz, too?"

Bill let out a short chittering laugh. "No," he said. "There were no teachers in my dimension," Bill told them, in a brittle tone of voice that made Dipper feel a little uneasy to hear.

Miz said softly, "I don’t think he wants to talk about what things were like for him back then." The twins looked at each other. Miz rolled onto her side. "Can we talk about something else?"

Mabel had been about to ask Bill anyway, but after Miz asked her not to… Bill usually said _something_ when she asked him things, even if it was horrible most of the time. But... maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ask him this time after all, if Miz really thought it wasn’t a good idea?

"Okay, so… in your dimension, you're a dragon?" Mabel asked instead. Miz scoffed. "Naw, I chose to be a dragon because dragons are cool." She wiggled. "I mean, what's the point of being able to craft a vessel into whatever shape I want and NOT be something cool?" (Mabel nodded in understanding. She'd want to be a mermaid sometimes if she could! Then she'd be able to visit Mermando, under the sea, and meet him and his new wife… they’d all be able to go on undersea adventures together, if she could do that!) "Of course, even as a triangle I'm really cool, but the rest of the multiverse doesn't seem to think so."

"You have a triangle form too?" Dipper asked. Miz nodded. "I think I should avoid using it though. Ford doesn't seem like he would appreciate it." She hung her head, crawling off Mabel's lap and shaking herself as she grew back into her ‘human’ form. "It's like that with Jessie too. She can't stand to look at me when I'm a triangle. But when I look like this--" she gestured to herself "--she's fine with being nice to me."

"That… that feels unfair," Mabel said with a frown. Because sure, they'd treated Bill bad, back when he'd looked like a triangle, but that was because he was a jerk! Not because of how he'd looked! She sent a troubled look Dipper's way, and he nodded back grimly, in agreement: Bill was a jerk, no matter what he looked like.

Miz shrugged. "It's fine. People judge others by what they look like. I've long since gotten used to that. Heck, Jessie didn’t even realize it was ME like this even though I didn’t change my behavior at ALL. I had to actually give myself away by dropping hints for her to realize it was me." She sat on the railing of the boat, kicking her legs and trying to hide how unhappy that fact really made her feel.

Dipper rubbed his arm, feeling awkward. When he and Mabel had body swapped with that carpet, they'd both been acting nuts, and Grunkle Stan hadn't seemed to realize what had happened. He and Mabel **still** weren't totally sure if he'd given the key to that room to her on purpose, because he really _did_ like her better… or if he'd really wanted to reward 'Dipper’ for _insulting_ him. (They hadn't talked about it until after, and… Dipper hadn't exactly felt comfortable ever trying that out? It just felt… _wrong_ to him, to think of doing that. _Especially_ after...)

Dipper shook his head. "Is that why you chose to look like a small teenage girl?"

"...Eh, this form is special." Miz placed a hand to her chest. "But I have made other humanoid forms that were purposely crafted to be pleasant and nice looking… so that people would like me…"

Mabel and Dipper looked upset. "But that's not fair. You shouldn't have to change what you look like just so people like you!" Mabel protested. People were… supposed to be themselves! That's what she'd always been told by her parents.

(Bill stayed rather quiet on this point.)

Miz shrugged. "That's not how the world works. People judge others based on appearances. And people just don't like what I look like." She waved her hand to float her Kirby back to herself and hugged it. "I've had over 600 billion years to get used to that."

Mabel and Dipper glanced at each other. That was… too sad. "Did… everyone hate you when you were a triangle?" Was that… something that had happened with Bill too? Is that why he was such a jerk? (Mabel glanced over at him, but he was looking away from all of them… almost like he was _refusing_ to look at any of them. Mabel frowned.)

"Pretty much… but then I met my friends! And they didn't care what I was. They still wanted to be my friends!" Miz smiled fondly. "I wonder if I can contact them while I'm here…" She looked down at her hand and there was a swirl of sand and suddenly a smart-phone looking object appeared. (Watching this, the twins found her casual use of her powers a little startling. They both glanced over at Bill, who by comparison… generally made a big deal out of _everything_ that he did.)

Miz tapped on her newly-created Com. "Oh hey, the chat room works…" She frowned. "But I'm not time synched…"

"It’s a mess," Bill noted easily, staring up at the sky. "Not sure if _your_ connection was attracted by the tangle I found, or if it happened the other way around."

Miz frowned at her Com. "Well… I can drop off a message anyway…" she began to mutter softly as she typed out her message. "L irxqg… d eurwkhu… zloo eh vwdblqj zlwk klp iru d elw… grq'w zruub. L fdq wlph wudyho wr jhw edfn ehiruh brx hyhq nqrz L'p jrqh…"

"You do that, and it’s going to lock at least a few things into place," Bill reminded her, sitting up a bit, using his arms as leverage, to look over his shoulder at her. "I’m pretty sure that it should pop out after you left, with the way our messages have gone, but _how much_ later is…" Bill frowned. "Might want to add a time-of-delivery to it, if you can. Automatically self-destruct it if you think there might be problems with the time-of-arrival." He let out a soft laugh. "Last thing you need is to get caught up chasing down nonlinear time loops BETWEEN doors…"

"I’ll set it to arrive right after I left. I've staggered texts to arrive at different times before." Miz shrugged.

Bill nodded. He knew her Eye was working, but… the timing for when and where they’d come out _here_ had been… close. He had a suspicion that he tended to be a bit more conservative in his own timings that she was.

...Then again, maybe some beings _would_ consider having one billion years after deciphering the very last part of a long, long prophecy a lot of time to enact it. (HA!)

"Oh hey, I got some Asks on my blog." Miz played with her Com a bit, before putting it away.

The twins resettled next to each other on the deck in the meantime, and glanced at each other as Miz finished up what she was doing.

"So… you… have friends? Like--" Dipper glanced over at Bill. "--the Henchmaniacs?" he asked.

"My little sister’s definition of ‘friends’ is not my definition of ‘friends’, Pine Tree -- let’s get that out of the way right now," Bill pointed out almost lazily, as he lay himself back down flat on the deck again. Miz herself placed her hands on her cheeks and wiggled side to side happily.

"They're not my henchmen," she told them gleefully. "They're my friends. The way that Candy and Grenda are yours. Except with more…" She tried to think of a way to describe it.

"Though they do have the same names, and may even look the same," Bill noted easily, eyes closed.

Miz nodded. "Yeah, but I think my versions are younger than yours. For one thing, they hadn't been arrested yet when I met them."

"Younger? Maybe right now," said Bill. "Never asked." Bill hadn’t thought it all that important. He wasn’t sure which arrests Miz was talking about, though; they’d all been arrested DOZENS of times well before he’d met any of them. And that was just _this_ iteration of them as demons. ...Well, after Ronnie had found _HIM_ and started pulling in more of them. "My most recent set of Henchmaniacs has only been with me for the last three-hundred-million years or so. Ronnie’s the oldest hanger-on of the set, at six-hundred-million and counting." Bill himself hadn’t really been planning on trying to put together another set and trying again, given the timeframe he’d been working with at that point, seeing it as a distraction more than anything, but… she’d made it fun.

And after awhile, he’d gotten into it and started keeping his Eye out, and picking out a few more himself. "I didn’t bother looking them up much before that, only the most recent ten million years or so before that," Bill added. That was usually all the time he needed to get a good sense of what type of demon he was dealing with there, start-to-finish. Even the best liars out there couldn't manage to be that consistent for that long! And it gave him enough of a recent and up-to-date pattern to actually work with. "I _know_ Ronnie’s been bouncing around from place to place _much_ longer than that, though." He wouldn't be surprised if she'd been around for a couple hundred-billion, at LEAST!

"Well I don't think my dimension's version of them are demons. The best I can tell, when comparing mine and yours," Miz said, and Bill nodded, almost to himself, eyes still closed. Miz glanced over at the twins almost shyly. "Do you want to know about my friends?" she asked them. Dipper wasn't so sure, but Mabel nodded enthusiastically, with a just-as-enthusiastic "YES!!" and Miz grinned and wiggled her hands and formed a tiny little Xanthar plushie.

"I got Xanthar through a Deal," Miz said, showing the plushie to the twins. "I was summoned by this baron who thought to butter me up before the Deal by bribing me with food. Would have worked but then he brought out Xanthar… and started slicing him up right in front of me…" Miz's eyes flashed red. "He was in so much pain. I couldn't stand it. So I demanded to have him so I could take him away from that awful man." Miz picked up the Xanthar plush and hugged him.

"Slicing him… _up?_ " Mabel looked ill. So did Dipper.

Miz nodded and held out the plushie again. "See how he's got this flat face? His bread face was sliced off. And eaten by that asshole."

Bill opened his eyes at the uncharacteristic quiet from the twins, and looked over. "Better stop, Miz," he said, closing his eyes again. "That’s cannibalism, almost. They have cryptids as friends. They _get_ smart non-humans not being something that should be eaten, even when they’re edible."

Miz blinked and then looked up at the twins. She gasped. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't think…" She squeezed the doll to her chest. "But he's safe now! He's mine and I protect him so no one can ever hurt him again!" **EVER.**

"R-right…" said Mabel, with a strained smile, clutching at her Kirby doll, which she'd managed to ‘sneak back’ from the side of the deck earlier. "Good to know?" Dipper said, pulling at his cap slightly, but still looking like he was trying not to puke.

Miz looked down. "My other friends weren't as bad off. But they weren't in the best of situations when I met them either." She sighed. "And I swore to myself I would make sure they could stay safe and happy." _No matter what it took._ She didn't say that out loud but the twins could hear it clearly in her tone.

The twins exchanged a glance.

They had a sinking suspicion that while this version of Bill Cipher was actually… nice(?) sometimes(??), she was _also_ perfectly willing to do some pretty bad things if she thought it would keep the people she cared about happy. --And that made her dangerous in the same way their Grunkle Stan could be dangerous, when it came to protecting family. Because if she cared about these friends of hers _that_ much, all it would take was someone threatening or hurting one to...

Bill himself, thinking about how Time Baby in her world had essentially tricked her into his service via blackmail over her friends for eons, blew out a breath and said: "I still think you should take Stanley’s advice. Grab ‘em all, and get out while the going’s good. -- _Before_ you get tangled up in a prophecy someplace where your lizard can still reach you and try to haul you back in." Bill shifted in place. "Saves me some trouble. Don’t feel like having to figure out that pillar thing whenever I end up having to vaporize that Time Baby of yours!" Bill had a feeling that if he ended up in her dimensional set, he’d end up doing it _eventually_ , sooner or later.

Miz looked over and nodded. "Should we change the topic?" she asked. "I'm still trying to figure out what is and isn't appropriate to talk about." She paused and tilted her head. "I think my sister is almost Stan level of things she's ok with talking about. Or at least, they might upset her but not that badly?"

"Stanley can take a lot more than Pine Tree and Shooting Star can," Bill murmured out, eyes closed. "That Stanford’s not worth trying to talk to; gets mad too easily, never thinks anything more multi-dimensional than flat these days," Bill not quite grumbled out.

"Yeah? Whose fault is that," Dipper muttered out. He didn’t get any happier when Bill’s response to him was to the tune of: "His."

Miz and Mabel exchanged a look. "Change the subject," the two of them suggested.

"You don’t like my subjects," Bill murmured out almost loosely, his tone meandering up and down the scale almost musically.

Mabel’s eyebrows went up, and she and Miz glanced at each other with an expression like ‘ugh, brothers,’ before Mabel thought quickly and asked, "So you like to eat stuff. Bill is super picky."

Bill let out a soft humming sound on the next breath, and his breathing evened out. Miz hummed along absently. "Well, I like tasting things and the feeling of chewing things. It's a visceral pleasure."

Dipper frowned. "Why?" he asked. Great-Uncle Ford had said that Bill had used to be… two-dimensional? The Xylians hadn’t sounded like they… did stuff like that? Enjoy food? (He really had to ask Great-Uncle Ford what they ate. Mabel was starting to get waaaaay too creative in her ideas of things she’d ask Bill if he wanted to eat at mealtimes...)

Miz shrugged. "Probably a remnant of my feelings from when I used to be human."

"--Woah, wait-wait-wait. _What?!_ " Dipper said, as Mabel’s eyes went wide. "When were you _human?_ " he asked her. And why would she want to be human when she could be a dragon, or anything else? He and Mabel had thought Bill must have been lying about her being a ‘used to be human and human again sometimes’ demon, when Bill had gotten caught out talking to ‘a demon’ on his blog. He and his sister had put two-and-two together about the supposedly ‘human demon’ he’d been talking to being _Miz_ , but… "A _human_ human? Not some human-demon, where you were always sort of… at least a _little_... demon-y?" Dipper trailed off at the look he was getting from Miz.

Miz tilted her head at him. "So… I was born as a triangle… with memories from a human girl. Who had human parents and a human family. And I AM her… I think? I don't really know. It's all sorts of confusing. But if you take the idea that who you ARE is determined by your memories, then I **am** her. Was her. I was 林趙尊欣. But now I'm a Bill Cipher." She moved to lay down on the deck of the boat. "And I still get weird quirks that I'm sure are from her, me, who I was, still am?" She looked confused. "I'm not her anymore though. I'm sure she wouldn't have done most of the things that I do now." She can’t possibly have? She didn’t think Zyun-Jan would have done what she did.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged glances. They didn’t really know _what_ to think.

"You don't have to be 'her’…" Bill murmured out, opening his eyes slightly. "Not if you don't want to, and really aren't her. You can isolate it." He was thinking of what had happened to himself, when he'd tried to Look forward at himself, and instead had Seen…

Miz nodded slowly, still frowning. "I don’t mind many of the parts of her. She was a nice person. I want to be a nice person. I can just keep the parts I like..." … not that she would be comfortable throwing any of it out, she kept them all, both good and bad, because BALANCE was a _thing._

"All or nothing; you don't want to piecemeal things," Bill told her quite seriously, with a sigh, closing his eyes again. Because if she did try to cut off and keep just pieces of herself... "It causes problems."

Miz sighed. "I’m keeping it then. There’s more good than bad in here. I like my memories of her, me, so much of who I am now was built upon these memories. And despite everything, I like the person that I am." Heck, she wasn’t 100% a dick, that’s got to count for something? And she had considered it before, simply erasing what little humanity she had left, to try and hurt less… but she wouldn’t do it. Never. Her memories of her siblings, family and friends were FAR too important.

To this, Bill just hummed out an even tone for a beat or two, in acknowledgement of her choice. (He certainly wasn't going to choose FOR her!)

"Did…" Dipper ducked his head slightly, glancing over at Bill, who was being quiet. "Did _Bill_ used to be human?" Dipper asked Miz. He had to ask it, but he couldn’t _imagine_ that really being a thing, though. Bill was just too… demon-y.

"Doubt it," Miz commented, and Dipper let out something of a breath of relief. That would have been too much.

"No. Never human," Bill offered up quietly, leaving Dipper wincing at having been heard.

"How do you end up becoming a Bill Cipher?" Mabel asked, confused. "You said… you picked the name?" She didn’t get it. Did Miz _choose_ to be a Bill? She’d said she was a triangle like Bill, though.

"Well, I already sort of knew I was Bill because I sort of knew bits and pieces of the future from stories I read back when I was human… but after I accidentally destroyed the 2nd dimension and met Ax, he called me Bill. But he also said I wasn't what he was expecting." She shrugged. "So either I replaced the Bill that Ax was originally trying to get or I just didn't turn out how he wanted me to."

"...I need to write this down," Dipper complained, tugging at his hat. He couldn’t get his thoughts straight on convoluted stuff like this without writing things down; he needed to get things out of his head and down on paper so he could sort everything out in front of him. He _missed_ stuff otherwise, or it just didn’t really make any sense. "Who’s ‘Ax’?" he asked. And knowing bits and pieces of the future from stories? What the _heck?_

"The god that created all of reality." Miz shrugged. "The AXOLOTL. Ford swears by him all the time." (Okay, Dipper recognized the name now.) Miz frowned and turned to Bill. "Does he worship Ax?"

Bill was quiet, which was weird. The twins had noticed that he pretty much always responded to his little sister. When Dipper looked over he was shocked to realize the demon had straight-up _fallen asleep_ on them, right on the spot!

Mabel just stifled a giggle. She’d come out to the picnic tables at the Shack _lots_ of times to find Bill dozing! (Even though he really wasn’t supposed to; he was only supposed to sleep in his bed indoors. ...Okay, or maybe upstairs in the attic, now, too.) She and Grunkle Stan were pretty sure which times he’d actually fallen asleep outside and which times he hadn’t. It was kind of funny to see him yell and flail a bit when he woke up and tried to pretend that he hadn’t.

Meanwhile, Miz cooed softly before materializing a blanket and gently placing it over him. 

Mabel got an uncomfortable look. "You shouldn’t do that," she told Miz quietly.

"I’m not gonna touch him." Miz stepped away.

"That’s not why…" Mabel started to say, but it was too late. Bill got restless, and flailed a bit. He kicked it off violently, and rolled over onto his side and onto it, breathing heavily and not quite clawing at it a bit haphazardly in a clearly-reflexive motion. He slowly settled again as they all watched.

Miz blinked. "Oh. Ok. That explains why he never uses blankets up in the attic."

Mabel nodded. "Grunkle Stan says he doesn't like gravity."

Miz pulled a face. "Well gravity kinda sucks." Then she giggled. "Get it? Suck? Because it’s an attractive force?" She snorted quietly, rolling across the deck.

"Uh, wouldn’t that be gravity _pulls?_ " Dipper asked, a little confused. "It’s not a vacuum."

"You obviously have never met a Black Hole before." Miz said blandly.

Dipper glanced over at his sister. He was pretty sure that that was a pull, too? Or… "Gravity bends?" He’d thought there were time dilation effects and things. Still not a ‘sucking’ kind of thing!

Miz rolled around and whined. "Don’t pick apart my awful pun!"

"But it’s not even a pun!" Dipper objected ("That’s why it’s awful!"), then stopped and went, "Okay, fine," at Mabel elbowing him. Miz grinned at Mabel -- finally, someone who doesn’t ruin her fun!

Bill let out a huff and an odd mumble, twitching in place.

And then the rest of them heard movement at the hatch; somebody was coming up the ladder. They all turned to see Ford, who pushed himself up onto the deck, and looked around. He blinked when he saw Bill, then frowned. Miz huddled a little behind Mabel. The brown-haired girl noticed and frowned. It didn’t feel right for Miz to be afraid of her grunkle. Miz wasn’t Bill. Even if she was apparently an alternate Bill Cipher.

Ford’s frown became slightly more pronounced as he took a firm step towards Bill across the deck and then stopped, when he realized Bill hadn’t moved. He tilted his head slightly to the side, and he laid his right hand across his holster. Ford rippled his fingers across the hilt experimentally, a motion that seemed to match his mood and expression as he started moving again and paced a half-circle around Bill -- not quite giving him a _wide_ berth, but watching him with a great deal of attention. (It wasn’t quite predatory, but… he was almost approaching his observation of Bill the same way he would any other potentially dangerous cryptid or alien being.)

Miz was starting to growl softly, eyes locked onto Ford’s movements. Mabel and Dipper glanced at her quickly before Dipper spoke up. "Ah, Great-Uncle Ford? Maybe you could take your hand off of your gun? Bill hasn’t been…" Dipper bit his lip as his Great-Uncle completed his walk, and Great-Uncle Ford’s frown changed in character slightly as he came around Bill’s side enough to see his face. His hand relaxed on his holster slightly, but he didn’t let go of it yet.

He glanced over at the rest of them and said, "Bill is… asleep?"

"Yes?" Mabel said slowly. Then she sat up straight as she realized that her Grunkle Ford hadn’t actually seen Bill asleep before. Not in-person. --He’d seen Bill half-awake blinking at the TV before with Grunkle Stan once, and he’d woken up next to Bill that one time on the floor (except Bill had fallen asleep after him and woken up before him), but...

"I told you, Grunkle Ford," Mabel told him in a huff. "Bill sleeps." Mabel explained. "A lot. He falls asleep in all sorts of places!"

"Yes, but…" Ford not-quite objected under his breath, glancing between Mabel and the apparently-asleep Bill Cipher. Was it a trick? It had to be, didn’t it? Except…

He’d seen Bill with what looked like to be his eyes closed on the surveillance footage of the outside of the Shack many times at this point; the places he’d most often noted this behavior were the roof of the Shack and (most-often) one of the picnic table tops, for some odd reason. But he’d thought that was some sort of ruse, not…

"...He’s actually _asleep_ ," Ford realized. He straightened, feeling a bit off-balance at the thought. Bill… wasn’t supposed to sleep. He’d never slept before, had he? Demons--

Ford blinked. Demons didn’t sleep. But Bill was...

He frowned again. Was it possible that, after one trillion years, Bill had managed to _learn_ a way to _trick_ people so well that he truly _seemed_ to be… Ford shook his head. That didn’t make sense.

Ford, watching Bill grimly, raised a boot and slammed it down onto the top deck **hard**.

He watched Bill’s eyes shoot open and Bill himself shove his body upright in a quick _jerk_ of motion.

He heard Bill let out some sort of whistle-click as he came upright, then a garbled gargling mix of Galactic Standard, but he wasn’t through two syllables of _that_ before Bill went straight to _accented_ American English -- "WH’A,T" -- still clearly thinking in Galactic as he spoke in English, before just as quickly transitioning to ‘native’: "THAT-- I-- _CAKE!!!_ I HEARD YOU YES!" Then a slight pause from Bill, who was swaying in place where he sat, slightly. "...What."

Ford stared down at Bill Cipher, who was _still_ swaying in place a bit side-to-side (and using his arms as supports to stay mostly upright), blinking rapidly, and then...

He saw Bill frown slightly and his eyes refocus, and then jolt his head around in small motions to look at them all. Miz was groaning.

"Why’d you have to wake him up? He looked so cute, asleep like that." Dipper looked like he was going to choke at the idea of Bill being ‘cute’. (Unfortunately, Mabel had to agree with the consensus of ‘cute’; Bill did actually look almost cute when he was sleeping, especially when he was female. She’d come out of the Shack and sat down at the picnic table to watch him one or twice. He’d seemed almost… _normal_ , like that.)

Bill swiveled his head over at Miz, then turned towards Ford and narrowed his eyes to _glare_ up at him. ...He was _clearly_ awake now.

Ford took a moment to formulate what he wanted to say. "...Demons don’t sleep," he said aloud to Bill, staring down at him, hand still on his holster.

" _Dream demon!_ " Bill snapped out, looking annoyed and angry, as well as tense.

Miz raised her hand. "Well, I didn’t figure out HOW to sleep until I realized I needed a Dreamscape to sleep IN."

When Ford started to turn his head towards Miz, Bill spat out quickly, " _\--There’s more than one type of demon!_ "

Ford paused in place, checking his motion.

He slowly turned back towards Bill, who was glaring, and tense, but also looking a bit… _defensive_.

Ford worked his jaw slightly. Then he said, "You _were_ asleep. Weren’t you, Bill."

Bill didn’t answer but he looked _livid_. Miz pouted. "Why’re you so interested in brother’s ability to sleep anyway? I fell asleep when I got drunk the last time I was here and you haven’t freaked out over THAT yet."

"I’m not ‘freaked out’ over you being able to sleep," Ford told her, still looking Bill in the eye. "I’m actually rather relieved." He got the smallest of smiles. "Demons don’t dream. And--"

Bill snarled out something in ‘alien’ at Ford, but Ford, undeterred, continued with, "--generally, anything that sleeps is properly killable and _will stay dead_ if you actually kill it _completely_." He rippled his fingers across his grip again. Bill’s shoulders came up a bit. Neither of them broke their staring contest.

Miz coughed. "I dream all the time, my last dream was about this really long hole made of lines and pudding. It was really weird." She narrowed her eyes at Ford. "And if you shoot my brother, I will count that as you breaking whatever Agreement Stanley’s got going on."

"I’m not part of the agreement," Ford informed her dryly. "Bill will ‘happily’ be the first to tell you that. ...Lovely creative mind you have there, though. You’re a _much_ better liar than Bill."

Miz tilted her head. "Well then, if there’s no Agreement or anything, then I guess I can just--"

"-- _Don’t_ ," Bill cut in, cutting Miz off, not breaking eye contact with Ford.

Miz scowled. "I don’t want you hurt," she said simply.

"Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Miz," Bill said, slowly getting to his feet, not taking his eyes off of his most idiotic Zodiac member. Bill made a twisting gesture with his wrist, and the full bodysuit he was wearing under his clothes came into view again. "Nothing this idiot can do about it, now, _now, can you, Sixer_?" Bill drawled out the last, with the beginnings of a smirk.

Ford worked his jaw again.

"There’s no such thing as a dream demon, is there?" Ford said slowly, and Bill’s smile widened a bit.

"I am what I am," Bill said, spreading his arms out at his sides and straightening in place to his full height, rocking back on his heels. "If I say I’m a ‘dream demon’, I’m a dream demon!" His eyes were alight with an odd spark. He bobbed his torso from side to side slightly, on top of his legs.

"And if you say you’re a ‘triangle demon’, you’re a triangle demon?" Ford asked lightly.

"Yes," Bill said darkly, losing the smile as he slowly dropped his arms. "Don’t worry," Bill said just as darkly, "You’re too _stupid_ to really _get it_." Ford felt the side of his mouth twitch up in almost a sneer, before he managed to control his reaction and level out his expression again.

Miz leaned over to Mabel and whispered, "Do they always fight like a divorced couple?"

 _That_ had Ford straightening and twisting in place to stare down at Miz in something like disbelief and horror. " _What?!?!_ " he managed to choke out, his hand sliding off of his sidearm as his arms went a bit slack in shock.

Miz blinked. "Well, that’s what this is sounding like to me right now. No offence." (Mabel was making an odd snuffling sound as if she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or gag. Dipper was clutching at his hat, pulling it down hard and looking like wanted to use it to take an express trip to Sweater Town.)

Bill let out something that was half a huff of breath, half a snort. "Oh, Sixer would _be_ so lucky if my preferences ran that way." He wasn’t anything _close_ to linear enough, to start with. _Or_ smart enough. He smiled cheekily at his ‘Sixer’ as Ford whipped his head back around to glare at him again.

"I _don’t--!_ " Ford began hotly.

Miz shrugged. "One of the Bill’s I saw in another dimensional set was drinking himself into a crying mess because his Ford had broken up with him… it was super sad." She frowned. "That Ford was super mean about it too. Who breaks up with their boyfriend using a goddamn BINDING CIRCLE anyway?!" She huffed angrily.

Ford looked disgusted at the thought of having… _Bill as a boyfriend?!?!_ But Bill just looked vaguely amused as he told Miz, "No other-dimensional talk in front of the idiot, remember?"

Miz blinked. "Oh right. I keep forgetting…"

"I know, I know, _very_ restricting!" Bill commiserated. Ford twitched.

Miz rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Ugh, that’s like… 90% of the funny stories I could tell, gone, just like that!"

"You--" Ford began, then stopped talking as Bill stepped up to him and got right in his face. His hand moved reflexively back to his holster again. (He did manage not to step away.)

"I’ll tell you what, Sixer," Bill said, not quite nose-to-nose with him. "Since you’re _SO SURE_ that killing me will leave me DEAD-DEAD-AND-MORE-DEAD?" He tilted his head sideways at Ford. "Why don’t I just… DROP the defenses," he said, tapping his own chest. "You TRY to kill me, and we’ll all JUST SEE WHAT HAPPENS." Bill grinned up at him. "How about it, Sixer?" He leaned forward just that little bit more. "Double-or-nothing? ...Won’t get just my _hat_ this time. RIGHT?"

Ford was staring down at Bill throughout all of this.

He was looking a little pale as he said, "You think you’ll come back."

"No," said Bill, eyelids drooping a bit, as he not-quite purred out, "I _KNOW_ I WILL."

Ford pulled in a slow breath and seemed to gather himself up.

And then Ford took one very deliberate step backwards, away from Bill.

"I see," said Ford. "More than one type of demon. Interesting." He dropped his hand from his holster, just as deliberately. Bill stared after him, all expression dropping off of his face.

"...what?" Bill said, blinking.

"Dipper, Mabel, it’s time for bed," Ford said next, turning away from Bill. "I believe there are enough bedrolls down in the hold for you two to sleep on."

Bill looked between that Stanford, Shooting Star, and Pine Tree. He eventually settled on looking back at Stanford. "...Where’s Stanley?" Bill asked slowly, eyes beginning to narrow again.

"He fell asleep," Ford told him, as he held out a hand and helped Mabel upright. He barely spared Bill a glance. "He was tired after all of the running, and your antics earlier."

Miz hummed. "Should I give him a back massage?" Stan was old and she worried over his health. That had Ford turning back to her to give her another rather disturbed look.

"No," said Ford, curtly.

Miz stared. "Then, will YOU give him a back massage?" she asked.

"I’d rather not wake him up at the moment," Ford told her quite honestly, as he shooed Dipper and Mabel towards the hatch. "He seemed rather soundly asleep, and I don’t think he’d wake up to hands on him well."

Miz nodded in understanding. "Well, when he wakes up, you should give him a back massage. His back’s been hurting him for a while," she told him.

Bill let out a yawn, then slapped a hand over his mouth and not quite growled out through it.

Ford gave her a sidelong look. "I’ll take it under advisement," he said, the same way most people would say, ‘I’ll consider what you say when hell freezes over and the devil starts handing out pairs of ice skates for a nice winter holiday of fun.’

Miz rolled her eyes. "Well, ask him first, of course. I’m just saying, if Stan’s in pain, you should try to help. And since I’m probably not allowed to help, I figured maybe you would."

Ford straightened in place and turned back towards her, after the niblings had descended.

"With all _due_ respect to someone who thinks _Bill Cipher_ is a brother one can love," Ford said, with both sincerity and extreme sarcasm in equal measures, "If you _truly_ believe that I have _not_ tried to convince my own brother to let me recreate and use several medical remedies for back pains and musculoskeletal problems such as he has, to his benefit, _well_ , then…" Ford met her eyes. "You might want to listen to Bill when he says he knows me better than you do, and you really _don’t_ know me _at all_." And with that, Ford turned and made his way down the ladder himself.

Miz sighed. "Why won’t he accept the help? I… don’t understand?" She glanced over at her brother.

Bill was rubbing at the side of his head with one hand, tired. From his drooping posture, that had worsened pretty quickly after Ford had descended out of view, it was clear that he was having trouble staying awake, not quite swaying in place. "Mm," was his contribution to the conversation.

Miz shrugged and decided to put that topic aside for now. She dropped down onto the blanket she’d created and curled up on it. "I’m gonna ask him tomorrow." She yawned, snuggling into the soft blanket.

Bill blinked hazily down at her.

He stood there swaying for a moment, before habit (not reason) took over, and he walked over to drop down next to her on top of the blanket. He was out like a light-switched-off shortly thereafter, drifting off to her soft humming.

\----

(???’s POV)

Reaching. Searching. They're not there. Reality placed into a standstill. No moving forwards without them. A quiet Void with no sound or light. Infinite and yet a realm without depth. No time. No space. No energy. In any of its forms. Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING. But they couldn't give up. They couldn't turn back. There was nothing back where they came from.

Circle around. They aren't there. Reaching. Clawing. Desperation. Falling apart at the seams. If they could just find them. Find the other. Cling to them for sustenance. The Void ripples. They're asleep. They dream.

But they're not HERE. Not here. Not here. Not here. _Not here. Not here. **Not here. Not here. Not HERE. Not HERE. N̟̪̩̗̣̒̏͒̏̑O͙̣̘̰̭ͬ̊T̛̑͂ͨ̋ͭͪ ̴̹̭̲͚̤̽H͌̋ͪͤ̿ͦE̬̠̟̳̦ͅR̼̰̘͈ͨ̕E̠̓͐̌̔ͯ.̶̗͓̺̻̅ͭ͌̓͒ ̙̲͙̯̹̪̽̑̒̈́͊̚N͔̍̆͗̿̎̈́O̘̞̤̞̝T̝͉̦̩͋̾͒̓̽ͦ̽ ̼͍̬̖ͣ͒ͩ̍H̠̹ͥ̄ͪͥͮ̒ͅE̩̙̜͍̩̹̘ͩ̊͒ͪ͛̈͐R̓̆ͪ̐ͧ̓̚͏̮͕E̜͇͚͈.̳ͭ͠**_

Clawing. Screaming. Desperation. Why weren't they here?! They were sleeping. Dreaming. They should be HERE!

Breaking apart. It was getting harder to hold themselves together. They needed another. They needed more power. Enough to keep together. Enough to survive so they could--

But they couldn't open it on their own. They couldn't get inside! They needed them. Needed them HERE. If they were together...

L̛ ̛g͜rq͠'w zd̡qw w͞r ̵g̡lvd̕ss͟h͝d͜u.͟..͝L̴ grq'҉w z̧dqw̧ ̨wr eh̛ ҉wkurzq͢ dzdb̵...soh̨dv͡h̢.̵.̡.so͢hd̡v͏h͡..̛..

A desperate scream  even though they knew that no answer would come.

_**"⅃...T...O...⅃...O...X...A..."** _

The Void shook and rippled.

But nobody came.

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: The BlueBill Arc is getting to be much longer than we expected.... we....kinda had too much fun writing ＼(Ｔ∇Ｔ)／  
> For everyone looking forward to the TripletAU crossover, I'm sorry it's gonna take longer than we thought...  
> ...  
> .....  
> .......  
> .........we've written around 5 more chapters and have 3-4 more planned out for the BlueBill Arc omfg...
> 
>  **My AN:**  
>  …
> 
> …
> 
> _*looks at the final chapter and word count*_
> 
> …
> 
> _**AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA--** _


	7. Chapter 76: I might have overstuffed my resume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Items lost and found.  
> Some ice cream goes around.  
> Truths are said but not believed.  
> Yet somehow brother was relieved?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original AN:  
> A/N: I was tempted to make an April Fools chapter but noooo, I'm not gonna do that to you guys :D  
> But~ I DID make an April Fools post on me and Kei's Adopt account on Instagram XD  
> https://www.instagram.com/succulent_meats/
> 
> My AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 86 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/43100606). It was first posted on Apr 1, 2019.
> 
> Pics by Mizuuma!

\----

Miz groaned when the noise woke her up. She rolled over and reached for a pillow but realized there was none. Just Bill’s back. She blinked blearily and looked around. She spotted her Kirby doll a few feet away. Must have rolled away. The Xanthar doll had also been knocked away and was up against the side of the railings. Miz yawned and got up to get her dolls back. She blinked and looked around. Ah…

A quick Flicker and she sighed. Right, school just let out and there were kids and teenagers playing all around the beach. She crawled over to peer down at them. Huh… were young Ford and Stan going to come back? The dragon looked around and then up at the fish where they were hanging on the hooks. Good thing she’d put a Preservation effect on them. (It even kept the smell to a minimum!) She picked one off a hook and swallowed it. She didn’t NEED to cook it, what with the way her stomach worked, but she was a little sad about the taste. Probably should have cooked it first, but she was feeling lazy!

Bill didn’t so much as twitch as the noise picked up around them. He’d fallen asleep to far more and worse near the Shack when the museum had been open and there had been tours going on, and _here_ he’d fallen asleep well up away from the commotion, much farther up and away than just a measly three feet and a dozen yards or so.

Luckily, the barrier did its job, and the locals stayed away as they usually did, thinking the boat empty. Miz took this time to people-watch. She really hadn’t been paying enough attention to the Stan and Ford of Bill’s world, or the other humans in it. She needed to get better about that…

It was only when the crowds started to thin, and transition from teenagers having escaped from school, to adults who were wanting to get in some time on the boardwalk before dinner, that Miz heard a stirring of sound from below deck echo up through the hatch. She looked over. Were the others waking up? She watched as the hatch opened and Stan climbed out. Miz waved. "Good mor-evening?"

Stan grunted, glancing over her and Bill, to make sure they’d both made it through the night okay. Then he headed over to the railing to stare out across the beach, looking around at the people, to get a feel for things. While he was doing this, Miz decided to ask bluntly, "How come you don’t want things to help your pain go away?"

Stan looked over at her, to frown at her in minor confusion before he finally caught on to what she meant. "Eh…" Stan shrugged, not really responding or wanting to put it into words. Most people… he was just uncomfortable with the idea of just some random person touching him who he didn’t know, who didn’t care at all about him. (Why would he pay some random person to do something like give a massage to him, when they could do a lousy job of it and really screw him up instead? No, thank you! And even if it was somebody he _did_ know, who wanted to help him out, would they even be able to do it right? It was easier to just not worry about it all that much. He was old; he was used to it. Besides, he had his orthopedic back pillow for the really bad days. That was really all he needed.)

"If it’s like… you don’t want to be touched while you’re vulnerable… I can kinda understand that." Miz mumbled when it seemed like Stan wasn’t going to give her a real answer. "I haven't been able to get a proper massage in eons. I used to really like going to the spa for that…" She stretched, groaning at the way her spine popped. Sleeping on the ground probably wasn’t good for her physical body.

Stan gave her an odd look. "Used to?" (She get thrown out or something? How many spas did you have to get thrown out of before the entire multiverse banned you?)

Miz nodded, not looking his way, staring out past the railing. "I stopped being able to let people touch me like that after one guy drugged me with an aphrodisiac while giving me a back rub." She missed the horrified look on Stan’s face. "It was while I was in my triangle form… so it’s not… like he w-would have been able t-to do anything… but…" She trembled lightly. "And I’m still trying to get over it because I miss getting a back rub and sometimes my bricks feel a little out of place. Dropping my vessel helps a bit, but it’s just not the same, you know?" She reached a hand back to rub her shoulders. "One of my friends offered to give me a massage once. And… it was… ok? I let him push a brick back into place but not much more than--"

"--Kid." Stan interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You _really_ need to see someone about your issues."

Miz groaned. "I know. But where would I find a human therapist who would be willing to work with me?" She leaned back to lie on the deck. "I guess, when we get back to your dimension I could try finding and entering the dream of one? Maybe ask them in there if they would help?"

Stan kind of winced, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh," he began, looking a little uncomfortable. "Turns out, uh, apparently most people… _don't_ control their dreams? Like, uh, some kind of you-lucid-clid-ean-something?" He wasn't so sure he'd gotten that right. (Ford got incomprehensible sometimes when he started talking dreams and math when he was half asleep, the big nerd-owl. That had sure been a couple of long, rambling, half-asleep conversations on the boat.) "Eh, anyway. Most people don't take dreams seriously." Not like his brother did. "Better talk to somebody when they're awake." Especially since she'd probably have to start all over again every time she did it, if she did. Even Stan didn't always remember his dreams. Stan paused, staring out over the railing, thinking. "...Could talk to the multibear, maybe. And hey, he knows a good Shiatsu. So, y'know, one or the other?"

Stan glanced back over his shoulder at Bill, who was still sleeping. "Just, uh, be careful what you ask for from the kid," Stan added. "Make sure you both really know what you want and don't want, if you go askin’ him to help you find some human-help." Not like the demon could help with human stuff like that himself, Stan figured. Kid would probably _try_ , but he’d probably get it all wrong if he did. And Stan wasn't so sure the kid might know of somebody else who _could_ help, either. If there was someone the kid could've talked to, who he could’ve trusted enough to help _him_ , the kid probably wouldn't be such a mess. So Stan wasn't so sure there was anybody the kid didn’t trust _himself_ , that he'd be willing to trust with his kid sister instead; Stan kinda had a feeling it would be the opposite. (--Definitely. Definitely the opposite.)

Miz nodded. "I could look it up… maybe do that while I’m here, in a dimensional set that actually has therapists?" She kicked her legs over the side of the boat. "I used to go to one back when I was human, when I was a child. I didn’t realize until I was older that the nice lady who talked to me was some kind of therapist. I’m not sure what I was in for though? My parents never told me."

And that was further confirmation for Stan that this kid wasn’t all there even as a human. He seriously doubted being turned into a triangle had helped with whatever problem she’d had, either. Probably made it worse, to be honest. ...Well, at least she sort of came across as human _most_ of the time, without even trying. She was better than the kid at it, even when the kid _was_ trying. (...At least, she did fine with it, up until she got riled up or anything and started talking about--)

"Hey mister Stan?"

"Yeah?" Stan grunted as he began setting up breakfast, squatting down to root through one of the crates.

"When I’m old enough to get my own Ford, I’m gonna try not to break him." (That had Stan pausing in what he was doing again, to look over at her and to listen to her more carefully.) "So I wanna learn what is or isn’t ok for me to do. Because a broken Ford just seems too sad." Miz leaned onto the bottom rung of the railings, and Stan let out a slow breath. (Looked like she was past wanting to hurt his brother on purpose, at least. Good.) "I just wanna be friends with my zodiac… well, maybe not Gideon. If my Gideon ends up being ANYTHING like yours I’m not sure I would like him…" she muttered.

Stan snorted in both amusement and horror at the last. Yeah, no. He didn't want Gideon ANYWHERE near this kid. Especially not when she was so willing to do stuff for people without thinking. So as long as he kept her away from… aw hell, hadn't the niblings told him that Gideon had actually summoned Bill for a Deal, once?

"Don't make any Deals with your Gideon if he's anything like ours." Stan told her, hoping he could cut that one off at the pass. She nodded but didn't really look like she was gonna listen. Stan sighed, and tried again. "I'm serious. He's…" Ugh. There was a lot Stan _could_ say, but he just settled on: "A little pint-sized jerk."

"... I'll be careful. My Deals don't work like brother's." Miz looked back at Stan. "If he summons me, I'll at least listen to what he wants. Whether I do what he wants or not is a different story."

Yeah, that wasn’t gonna fly. Not when Stan had seen the little brat sweet-talk people a lot less gullible than her (read: the kids, at first) into doing stuff for him. ...And Bill himself _had_ made Deals with him before, too. And not liked the aftermath either time. Hm. Stan glanced over at Bill, who was still fast asleep. Probably should let the kid weigh in on that one, then, once the kid woke back up again. Maybe he'd get through to his little sister better.

"Why do you even want your zodiac?" Stan asked Miz, finally. From what he could tell, she wasn't trapped in her Nightmare Realm like Bill was. (Stan was half-convinced that the only reason the kid had ever made any deals with the little glad-handing brat had been because he’d felt he _had_ to, as a backup or somethin’.) _She_ didn't need to escape from there, so why…?

"I just want to meet them. I've seen them in other Bill's dimensions. And I started getting curious. I want to meet my own. They're mine after all," she said simply, as if claiming people as her own was perfectly natural. Which it was! Ax promised her a zodiac! So she’ll get a zodiac! Though, when she asked Ax about it, he got all… deflective about who her Zodiac actually WAS.

"...There really ain't more to it than that?" Stan asked her. Because the way Bill talked about it… and y’know, carefully talked _around_ it as much as he could without sayin’ much of anything… kid didn't sound like that was all of it for him, not by even half. Because 'not having a choice’ about any of them? That had thrown up a red flag when the kid had muttered that one out. Because the kid was all about _getting_ what he wanted, which… had kind of led to triangle demon _doing_ what he wanted _most_ of the time, Stan figured, except that the kid _did_ seem to recognize that there was a difference between those two things sometimes, right when you were doing them. (...Oh hell, who was he kidding, of course the kid knew that. Stan was starting to realize that that had probably been the whole deal, and problem, with the triangle demon and Ford. It was pretty clear to Stan that the kid had felt forced to go along with that deal with Ford, because the kid had thought going along with it had been his only way out. And now that the deal was off… the kid still wasn't being real honest with how pissed off he was about it. --Not that Stan was looking forward to that one, when that happened, but maybe if the kid would just freaking _admit_ it, then...)

Stan shook his head. "This one of those things that's real different between you two? Or the same?" he asked of Miz, as he rummaged through the crate and pulled out a pan and a small propane tank and camping stove stand.

Miz hummed. "Our dimensions work very different. Because the rules our Ax's set are very different." She frowned. "I'm not sure what that means though. My zodiac is just… my way out in a different way." She paused. "Is this something I should tell you? It's one of those upsetting to other people things."

Feeling a little like he didn't want to know, Stan still responded, "Eh, if you think you want to tell me." Miz drew her lines differently than he did. He didn't really have an idea what she was getting at... unless she was talking about something from the list Bill had walked her through earlier on 'upsetting’ things. (If it was something she’d remembered to ‘ask’ the memory of her sister about, then it could be just about anything, Stan figured.)

Miz was quiet for a bit before glancing over at Bill, making sure he was still asleep. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My zodiac circle thing _might_ actually kill me. In a way I can't come back from. So, they're my way _out_."

Stan pulled in a slow breath, feeling like he'd been dunked in ice water. --Hell, now he knew why she had glanced over at Bill first. The kid would have a damn fit at what she was implying, with what she had mentioned about trying to kill herself dead _before_ … "Then why would you _want_ to meet 'em?" Stan managed to ask her, trying to keep calm. Maybe this wasn’t really some suicidal thing that’d get the kid all riled up (and messed up) over later if she went through with it. Was she… worried that if she didn't, they'd circle her anyway, even without knowing her? She'd said earlier to Bill that she wouldn't 'leave him alone’ when the kid had asked her, but…

Miz was still looking away. "Well, if I'm not an entirely bad person, then nothing bad would happen, they would have no reason to do it. And if I DO grow up to become a bad person…" She seemed to deflate, looking so weary and tired. "... then I would prefer that I was stopped." Stan stared at her. "Because I don't want to hurt people. But if I do, if I get worse…" than she already was. Than she already _thought_ she was.

Stan tried to hold down a groan. Why _him?_ "It's too early to deal with this right now," he grumbled. He also found himself _angry_ at her lizard dad for ‘letting’ her have this ‘way out’. With how the kid talked about the lizard here, and from what he’d been piecing together from what Miz had said about her current situation over _there_ , Stan figured that this circle-thing for her was a setup. Stan figured that if Miz hadn’t come here and talked to the two of them… maybe it could’ve taken another 400 billion years for her to finally wise up on her own? And once that jerk baby wasn’t able to make her kill people for him anymore, with that lizard wanting her to ‘get along’ with him? Having a circle like that would be an easy way to off her, once she started causing more trouble than just _evacuating_ some people some places; eventually, she’d probably give up on trying to ‘fix’ things inside the system, toss shit to the wind and take the fight straight to those Federation jerks. --And then that lizard and jerk-baby would want her gone for trying to kick the status quo in the head, whether she ~~was suicidal anymore--~~ liked it or not. (Stan had seen this kind of shit before in the mob families. Never ended well.)

...Not that any of that was gonna register with Miz, or was anything Stan really wanted to push the point on now. There was a way to get across what he wanted to without having to try and tackle any of that, though. (So Stan came at it sideways, just like he did it with Bill.)

"Kid," Stan said to Miz, rubbing a hand over his face. "You’re already hurting people. And if ‘your Ford’ is anything like my brother…" Stan let out a breath. "If yours has got some kinda ‘morals’, he’s already gonna have a problem with you working for that jerk-baby as his hitman, from what ya told me before," Stan told her, straight-up. "Especially if you were doin’ it to get off a bunch of sometimes-mass-murderers who you call friends. Besides," Stan looked over at her, "Thinking you’re not gonna have something bad happen to ya because ‘you’re not a bad person’ ain’t a thing. People do a whole bunch of horrible shit to each other everyday, for no good reason. Good or bad. --You should just stay away from ‘em, your ‘circle’," Stan told her.

"Oh…" Miz looked a little saddened by that. "But I just wanted to make friends…" She kind of understood what Stan meant, but it was still sad. She really wanted to make friends with her own Mabel. And tease her own Dipper. And hang out with her own Wendy...

Stan _almost_ said, 'define friends', but he kind of knew that one with her already; probably treated them more like family, from what she’d told him before. So instead Stan went with: "Yeah, great, but if you end up with a Ford in your dimension that’s anything like _my_ brother, he _won’t_ want to be friends with you, once he knows about however many people you’ve killed. And yeah, maybe you try to explain," Stan let out a sigh. "But he either ain’t gonna listen, or ain’t gonna care. He’ll think it’s just some kinda excuse you’re tryin’ to throw at him," whether she meant it that way or not, "And get more mad at you, instead."

Miz wilted. "Even if it was for a reason I thought was good?"

"Your ‘good’ and my brother’s ‘good’ don’t match," Stan told her. "I might be fine with it, ‘cause I don’t really care what happens in other places a billion years ago, or whatever," Stan waved off. Kid had told him a couple things already that Stan knew his brother would have a problem with if he knew about ‘em (and hey, maybe Ford did). "And maybe that other _me_ might feel the same way _I_ do about junk, if he ends up havin’ to deal with the same people I did? But…" Stan shook his head, looking grim.

"What would he consider good?" Miz asked of Stan. "The Federation send down soldiers to gun down helpless citizens and that's considered fine, but when I get ordered to do it by the head of the Federation's council, it's apparently not fine?"

"Hey, some Federation ain’t gonna be tryin’ to make friends with him," Stan pointed out, sitting back on his heels. "That’s you." And Ford would probably have a problem with these Federation mooks, too, if that’s the kinda shit they were really pulling over there where Miz was from.

Miz folded her fingers together. "That doesn't feel fair… I know the world isn't fair but… why can't it be?"

"Heh," said Stan, looking back down at the crate. "You sound like the kid," Stan told her, as he rummaged through said crate for the box of pancake mix and powdered milk he knew should be in there, if this boat really was anything like the one he’d had back home, way back when. Not that the kid used _that_ word for it, exactly, 'fair', but the kid sure circled around and back to the concept constantly.

"Is it wrong to want the world to be fair?" Miz asked quietly.

Oh sure, toss him an easy one, why dont’cha? Stan sighed and sidestepped that big old landmine partially, by tossing a ‘hammer thought’ at her head instead. Not like he was gonna get stuck down in _that_ kind of quagmire like an idiot.

"Easiest way to make things ‘fair’ is to make everything dead," Stan told her, "Hardest way is probably whatever the kid’s going for." Stan shrugged. "I figure I’m okay with the second one, whatever it is," as long as he got a say in it -- but hey, guess what? He _did_ get a say in it, because… "The kid actually listens to me mostly."

"Brother wants to kill the AXOLOTL and take over as god. Then he gets to set the rules and he said he would make it so everyone would be happy." Miz told him. "I don't really want him to kill dad, but he said that he would leave my version of dad alive once he becomes the new god."

Stan considered this for a moment as he stared at the can of powdered milk in his hand. "...Sounds like somethin’ the kid would do." Stan set it down on the deck. "And screw up, because he don’t get ‘happy’ right," Stan said with a sigh, and rubbed his hand over his face. "And everything in-between." He dropped his hand and looked up at her. "He really say that he’d leave your lizard alive, though?" That was new. He was pretty sure the kid straight-up hated the thing. If the kid was even considering doing _that_ for _her_... that said a hell of a lot about what the kid thought of his little sister.

Miz sighed. "Yeah, because I love my dad. Even if he isn’t the best dad. He still made it so I wasn't all alone until I met my friends." She paused and added, "I don't think it's possible to create a world where everyone is happy. Not without destroying free will. And I _don't_ want a world with no free will."

Free will, huh? Did the kid’s little sister really think that having no choice about anything at all ever would make people happy, somehow? (Even if she didn’t want to do it, because she’d made it pretty clear the last time ‘free will’ had come up that she thought it was ‘super important’, as Mabel would put it…) That didn’t sound right to Stan.

"Well, making everybody happy forever without destroying stuff sounds insane, and the kid is insane," Stan told her with a shrug. "Could maybe take somebody insane to figure that one out, I guess. Depends on what the kid’s thinking of doing. Never asked him to define ‘happy’ to me; not yet." He was definitely going to do that pretty damn soon, if this was actually a thing -- and it sounded like it was one, that Miz wasn’t lying to him about this stuff. (He didn’t want to think about what might happen if Miz convinced Bill that the only way to get what he wanted was to turn everybody into puppets. The kid had seemed kind of invested in the whole free will thing, too, when Miz had brought it up, but… definitely not as much as her.) Stan frowned a bit. "You tell the kid how you feel about what he’s tryin’ to do?" Stan asked her next, figuring it was better to hear how bad this might be already.

Miz checked to see if Bill was still asleep. "I won't stop him from trying." She rubbed her face "Bill's mad at the AXOLOTL because he COULD have stepped in to right any wrongs, to stop injustices… he's god after all. But dad DOESN'T step in to help. He doesn't interfere. And Bill hates that. The fact that he COULD help, but chooses not to."

Stan let out a long breath. Okay. Probably the kid wasn’t planning on doing anything drastic right away. ‘Not stopping him from trying’ meant the kid must not know what he was doing yet, still. ‘Trying’ was way too uncertain for a direct action from the kid. That said…

"Kid’s got a funny way of showing it," Stan muttered, about the kid hating somebody who ‘could help but chooses not to’. Wasn’t like the kid had a leg to stand on there, for most things. And hell, ‘righting wrongs’ and ‘stopping injustices’? Didn’t sound like the triangle to Stan, either. This all was the kinda junk that was up _Ford’s_ alley, though; Stan was pretty sure that Ford wouldn’t have any kind of problem with the triangle if the kid was _actually_ doing that. But the kid wasn’t.

Miz leaned back against the floorboards. "But I realized that _my_ dad can't step in because he wants us to do it ourselves. Make our own decisions. Retain our free will. If dad interfered in a conflict, he would need to pick a side. And he can't do that because he's supposed to be a neutral party, you know?" She closed her eyes and groaned.

Stan frowned at her at that. "Y’know, you can stop fights without taking sides," Stan put out there. "I do it with the kid all the time." Stan looked at her oddly. "That don’t got nothin’ to do with ‘free will’, or whatever." ...did it? That didn’t sound right to Stan, either.

"Dad, at least the one in my world, is in charge of regulating life and souls. He creates them and sends them out to be born and grow and die and return to him so he can recycle back into the system." Miz rolled onto her side. (Yeah, this was all pretty far out of Stan’s experience again already.) "And he watches what every soul does in their life. He can control their souls easily, because he created them. So if he thinks about wanting two people to stop fighting, he doesn't provide a solution, his will would simply alter their souls so that they were no longer in conflict. It's just how his powers work in my world." Miz sighed.

Stan snorted at that last bit. "What, like how you feed off emotions, unless you’ve got that headband on? It 'just happens’?"

"Yeah." Miz looked over.

"So? Make him a headband, then have your dad talk to whoever like everybody else and their dog, instead," Stan told her, folding his arms. "Not really seein’ the problem here."

Miz blinked. "Would closing his connection to souls cause the cycle of life-death-rebirth to halt?"

"You’re askin’ me?" Stan asked her, sounding almost amused. Because how was he supposed to know that one? Not like _he’d_ ever met her crazy soul-lizard-dad.

"Well, I've never thought about this before." She looked up at the sky. "I can ask him when I get home. See if maybe he'd go for it."

"...If he actually wants to do it," Stan said, crossing his arms and thinking hard. Lizard was supposed to be a mob-ish kinda guy, right? (So if he didn’t want to go for it…) "He ever had problems with altering souls or whatever, without meaning to, like you did with feelin’ people’s emotions?"

Miz frowned. "He refuses to talk about it. But I think he _has_ done something like that before. I can't feel anything off him so it's hard to tell but he seems really sad sometimes. And spends most of his time moping in his own section of Reality." She snorted. "I go and bother him just so he doesn't sleep forever."

"So then, your dad ain’t all that impartial then," Stan told her. "He’s thought about it at least once, to know about that thing being a thing, to tell you about it. Right?"

Miz nodded slowly. "He seems to think it was bad for him to have done that."

"Okay." Well, that was… probably a good thing, right? The same way that Miz didn’t really want to kill people if she didn’t think she had to. Free will _was_ a thing, right? "Hey, does your dad have a pillar thing going on, too? That halting thing sounds kinda like that jerk-baby time thing."

"Yes. He's the pillar for Reality. If he dies, all of existence goes with him. Space collapsing in on itself, an infinite dimensions wiped from existence in an instant."

Stan blinked. "Uhhh…" He stared at her. "That sounds like a thing that is definitely not good."

Miz frowned. "It's a scary thought." She shivered. "So if anyone takes him out, they'd have to be really quick on propping that pillar up.

...Or the whole place would come down? Stan stared at her. What if that was what they wanted? To bring down… Ugh. Stan rubbed a hand across his face under his glasses. ...How was this his life?

"...You maybe think it’d be a good idea to come up with one of those curse-things for, uh, automating that pillar thing he does, too?" Stan asked her tiredly.

Miz looked confused. "But he stays in his own Space between Spaces all the time."

Stan looked up at her. "And you can get in there with him."

"...yeah?" Miz wasn't quite getting it.

"Aren’t you havin’ a problem with a broken-Bill Cipher chasing you around?" Stan asked her, because the human-demon here hadn’t _forgotten_ about that, had she? "What happens if it gets into your dimension? You don’t think it couldn’t get at that lizard like you can, too?"

Miz paled. "Oh. I… I didn't even think about that… huh, is THAT why dad keeps telling me not to mess with my Doors?"

Stan shrugged at her, as he pulled out a bottle of water and upended it into the pan, then added some of the powdered milk and pancake mix. "Hey, if you can get places, opening doors and stuff, other Bills probably can, too." The kid certainly talked like he thought he could figure it out, the way she did her Doors thing. "If the kid thinks he can kill the lizard here, and is only talking about leaving yours alone for _you_..." Stan shrugged again. "Maybe there’s another Bill out there who _wouldn’t_ get along, but could kill it like the kid, and get around like you, too." What with that whole 'infinite places’ thing that was sort-of(?) a thing.

Miz frowned. "Well I'm definitely having a long talk with dad when I get home." She tapped her headband again. "And see about the headband thing for him too."

Stan nodded. "Might want to think about what you’ll do if he says no," he warned her. Miz nodded, eyes far off. 

...Aaaaand she still wasn’t listening him, not really. Stan stirred the mixture in the pan, thinking about how he might get through to her. After awhile, he added, "Does your dad control your soul, too?"

Miz rolled back into a sitting position. "I… don't know? When he first found me, he told me that I wasn't what he was expecting. Brother says it's because I'm more powerful than a Bill Cipher was supposed to be. 'Cause I have created my own dimension, by accident, and I keep 'breaking molds’ as he puts it. So I don't know if dad can control my soul or not."

"Heh, pretty sure that’s a compliment from the kid," Stan told her, as he finished mixing the ‘pancake mix’ up, and set the pan to the side to set up the propane stove. "Might want to figure that one out before pushing things too far. Or find a way to block it," Stan told her. "Because if you tell it about something it doesn’t want to do, and it decides that it wants the opposite… what happens when it decides what it thinks about that thing? Yeah?" Hell, maybe she could just surprise it with the headband thing, toss it on its head first, _then_ say something later.

Miz nodded. "The Ax in this world is very different from mine. I wonder how he does things. All I really know is that THIS Ax can block my Sight. And he's even more elusive than mine. But from what I can See, he doesn't have the same problem mine does… which is why I think brother hates him so much for literally not helping him even when he probably could… unless he's got something going for all this."

"If the lizard that’s here is just sitting back and letting ‘injustices’ happen ‘cause it doesn’t care," which is what Stan was getting from this, "Then the kid's probably got a good reason for being so mad at it, maybe," Stan grunted, thinking of how the kid’s entire dimension apparently burned down way back when, before completely destabilizing and becoming one big prison-like trap for the triangle demon. "Pretty sure that the kid wanted it to help him, from some of the junk I’ve heard him say." The only two things Bill had raged out about the lizard on were the thing not talking to him, and not doing anything -- refusing to help him, or anyone else.

Then again… "What are you talkin’ about when you say ‘injustice’, though?" Because that was the one thing Stan really didn’t get out of all this, and it had come up twice, now. Bill had never used that word with him. And Stan had no idea whether Miz had the same demon idea for it as the kid did or not -- probably not if she was right about Bill here, because that had never been what the kid had said he was mad about any of the times the kid had yelled about the lizard to him -- but even the normal-people definition of ‘injustice’ was kind of… vague. "You wanna define that for me?"

Instead of answering, Miz kicked her legs over the side of the railings for a bit before asking, "If… if your brother was killed for having six fingers, if there was a LAW that said that he HAD to be killed for not being ‘normal’, how would you feel?" she asked suddenly, making Stan do a double-take at the sudden change of subject. And Stan got a sinking, sick kind of feeling as he realized that she wasn't just talking about hypotheticals here, and... it wasn't some kind of threat against his brother or anything, he was pretty sure, yeah, but... he still _really_ didn't like what she was saying, there.

That only left Stan with one question, really. But before Stan could ask it, Miz continued. "And, if the government came to take your brother away so that he could be killed for being BORN _looking_ like he did, and your parents had LET them take him. If they didn't even try to fight or stop them, because they thought obeying the LAW was more important than FAMILY… how would you feel?"

"Kid…" Stan said slowly, feeling a chill go down his spine, but Miz continued on, voice wavering and cracking. "W-wouldn't you get angry? Wouldn't you just want to burn that whole, aw-ful world i-into the ground because they took the person you cared about away from you because of a STUPID law that was **unfair** and…" Stan reached out and placed a hand on top of her head. Miz jumped a little before quieting. She was crying though, tears streaming from her eyes as her shoulders shook at the glimpses she'd seen of Bill's past, at the past of multiple other Bills who'd had it so much _worse_ than her and--

Stan let out a long sigh. He was well and truly pissed off. He really wanted to punch someone. (Maybe whoever the hell had made that stupid law Miz was talking about. Though, if Stan was reading between the lines correctly, one of these two demons had already taken care of that. And then some. By a _lot_.)

"Kid," Stan said heavily. "We talking about you? Or the kid, instead?" he asked her. Because this wasn’t the kind of thing Stan was gonna leave to a _guess_ at the implications, here. He’d guessed that the kid had a brother, sure, with how the kid knew what brothers were supposed to be like, in how the kid defined them. But _this_ was...

"...Bill," Miz confirmed, wiping at her eyes. (‘Aw, hell’, thought Stan.) "My dimension had the same stupid hierarchy but they didn't outright kill the Irregulars, just gave them the worst, most underpaid jobs that could get them killed working it. Unless they were high enough on the social ladder. And if they were lucky enough to have normal-shaped mating parts they might even be allowed to marry and produce children."

Stan pulled in a slow breath. He wasn’t liking anything about this at all.

"So, you’re tellin’ me that Bill had a brother that… was different, kind of like my brother is different… and he got murdered by… the government?" Stan said. "And that their parents were okay with it. And Bill wasn’t." Stan stared at her. "This was a thing that actually happened. To Bill."

Miz looked miserable. She rubbed her eyes. "Liam wasn't an equilateral triangle. And triangles were ALREADY the lowest caste in the system. No-one was ok with it, but it was ‘normal’ for irregulars to be gotten rid of. That's just how it was. That was just a fact of life. Circles were the ruling caste and triangles were the lowest of the low. Because that's how the world worked. Irregulars had to be destroyed. That's just how the world worked. The government and its laws had to be obeyed. That's just how the world worked." Miz trembled. "But Bill refused to accept that. So he destroyed it all… but it didn't make him happy. It didn't fix anything."

She breathed carefully. "So Bill wants to make a world where things like that won't happen. Where everyone is immortal, no-one dies, and everyone is free to do whatever they want without any rules or laws, if they don't want any. And I don't know if such a thing is even possible." She frowned. "Bill has the power to bring Liam back. If he rolls things back far enough, he'd be able to pluck him from the past and bring him HERE."

She clenched her fists. "But according to Bill, Liam would be really upset if he found out Bill destroyed their dimension. So Bill can't, won't, bring Liam back until he fixes it. Even if Bill doesn't want to. Even if Bill wants the circles to stay dead, he said that if Liam would want them to be brought back to life too, then he would."

Stan had that walking on a knife's edge feeling again. When that purple square had shown up, calling Bill ‘sad’ and ‘angry-sad’, and had started to ask the kid if he'd been thinking about 'Lee--’ and Bill had started screaming ‘--AAAAAAAAAAH’ to drown the square out as he'd grabbed it, and then yelled a bunch of other random junk and raced away upstairs with the square? It hadn't been 'Lee’ it had been saying, was it. _The square had been about to say 'Li-am’._ ...And Bill had _not_ wanted a one of them to know a damn thing about him.

Stan looked over at Miz, who was checking to make sure Bill was still asleep.

...Yeah, probably a good idea. Stan was pretty sure that _this_ was the thing that Bill had behind all those drawbridges and lines. Endgame.

And Stan could've stopped and waited, tried asking the kid about it all, direct and upfront, once the kid had woken up again. Kid wouldn't be all that happy with him for 'cheating' like this, making an end run around him with his little sister's help, Stan was pretty sure. If he stopped right now…

But Stan didn't wait this time; he asked his next question out of Miz, anyway, knowing _exactly_ what he was doing. "Miz. Kid. Was this Liam, the kid's brother… Bill's twin?" Because with a name like that… and the way that Ford talked about the kid and threes… it’d make sense if the kid was _supposed_ to have another set of twins as part of this whole Zodiac-circle-thing, somehow.

Miz laid her head down on the railings. "Liam wasn't a twin, just a brother and he was really nice." She frowned. "A Bill from another timeline brought back his Liam… and he was so upset at what that Bill had done, they had a fight and that Bill lost control of his powers and accidentally…" She went quiet. "That's why brother wants to fix everything first. But he doesn't have the power to do that yet. Not until he can usurp Ax and take his place. So he needs to keep the Nightmare Realm from collapsing… so he can try and fix it." (Okay. So that explained a little better why the kid had pitched such a fit about that before, with the place maybe collapsing sooner…)

Miz paused again before she clarified. "Bill was really young when they took Liam from him. And no-one ever tried to help him grieve. They all just ignored it, like they were trying to forget about what happened."

Yeahhhh… that wasn’t good. Stan stifled a wince. "This Liam. He older or younger than Bill when that happened?" Stan asked next, though he would lay bets on ‘older’. (It'd explain a hell of a lot. ...Hell, it'd explain _everything_ he'd been seeing with the kid. Why the kid hated rules and laws with a vengeance. Why the kid sorta knew what an older brother was supposed to do, but not actually how do to it, and got kind of confused about the whens and hows for offering praise of his own for things. Why the kid hated parents. Why the kid was so big on control and not doing things by accident. Why the kid responded so damn well to somebody actually looking out for him, positive reinforcement, all of it. Maybe even why the kid got so chatty with him so easily when it was just the two of them together, alone. _All of it._ ...Shit.)

"Liam was the older brother." Miz sniffled. "He took care of Bill. Taught him stuff, read to him…"

Stan ran a hand over his face and blew out a breath. (Shit. --He'd tripped over that one completely by accident, hadn't he? Taking care of the kid kinda, and teaching the kid stuff with the whole ‘learning’ thing… He'd known it was a thing, but this? Damn. Almost made him feel guilty about it. … _Almost._ Not like he was gonna stop. Just meant he knew why it was working so well for sure, now.)

Stan dropped the hand and asked next, "How different was it for you? --I know, your brother wasn't _irregular_ or whatever, they got treated different in your place. But was there other stuff just as bad? A different kind of bad?" Stan needed to know if she was going to need help with any of it. If the kid couldn't handle it… then Stan would have to step in, though Stan didn't really know what either of them could do about it. He was pretty sure the kid would half-kill himself trying if she let him, or if Stan didn't step in and try to stop him by giving the something else to try, instead. (And who knew what that would look like, how bad _that_ could get. Stan didn't want to know what the kid running off the rails looked like; hell, it already looked pretty bad even when the kid was actively trying to stay _on_ the rails, with the agreement that was in place.)

"I was the older brother… who wasn’t born… normal." Miz said quietly. "It was different in my world where you could be Irregular on the outside or Unnatural on the inside. I was unnatural. The Council took me away from my family and little brother, Will, forbid me from ever seeing them again. See, in my world, producing children was different from Bill’s world. Your inside shape determined the shape of your kids and normally that meant your insides and outsides matched. But my insides were _round_ and… that meant I could birth circles…"

"Okay, hold up," Stan said. Girl to boy, fine -- he got that. But… "Without getting into, uh, triangle sex and junk. What's the bottom line we're talkin’ here." She'd lost him there.

Miz took a deep breath and let it out. "The council wanted to use me as Breeding stock once I was old enough. Lucky for me, I was still too small for them to do so before everything went to shit and I accidentally burned the whole place down… hah, that’s what they get for starving me when I was a baby! I didn’t grow up big enough! Hah!" Despite her words, she was shivering, glad that she hadn’t been forced to mate.

Stan was staring at her, trying to wrap his head around all this, starving her and... "...What? Breeding… stock, like… _dogs?_ " Only time he'd ever heard anything like that kind of talking was with the pug breeders, and...

"They would have Paired me with some other circle and made me produce children for the rest of my life if they could." Miz scowled. Thank Ax for her stunted growth.

"--Okay, no, stop, I hear ya!" Stan said quickly, very much feeling what Mabel would've called 'squick' already, even _before_ the feeling of alarm really hit him. ...And then the thing about them starving her as a baby really registered, and then how happily vindictive she sounded about ‘burning the whole place down’. "You, uh, you were the only one they did this to?" he asked, really not wanting to. "Or were gonna do it to?"

"I think? I haven't Looked into the other other worlds that were like mine. Generally the council wouldn’t be so drastic since most Unnaturals were only one rank up on the hierarchy, but I was a TRIANGLE that could birth CIRCLES. It was a really big deal." She sighed, rubbing her face. "Burning the place down was an accident. But aside from feeling bad that all the innocent people were killed… I’ve just… gotten kinda resigned to it all. It happened because I fucked up and I don’t know if I can fix it. Bill seems to think I can… but I’m not so sure."

Right. Because all that happening to her was _her_ fucking up? ...Maybe she just meant the ‘burning down the place’ part. (Hopefully.) Stan let out a long breath. At least she already knew about that little issue of 'maybe innocent’ people dying when she’d done that? (Stan hadn’t really been looking forward to bringing up the possibility to her, if she hadn't thought of that herself.)

"Sounds like that ain't gonna be an easy place to fix," Stan told her, in what was probably the understatement of the century. "You're actually thinkin’ about tryin’?" It hadn't exactly sounded like she was, the way she'd talked about it up until that point.

"Bill has a better chance at fixing it than I do. His dimension became the Nightmare Realm… my dimension became the 3rd Dimension… so trying to fix mine would end up reversing the creation of Earth and all that stuff. I don’t feel right doing that. Especially now that humans have evolved and… I don’t want to wipe them from existence just to bring back that old world I hated so much." Miz was quite frustrated about this. Maybe she COULD simply recreate the entire 2nd Dimension from scratch, but that would require more power than she currently had.

"Yeah. Pretty sure stuff in a place like here? Ain’t as bad as all... _that_." Some stuff here was bad, but it wasn’t like _everyplace_ was… well. "Fixin's usually supposed to mean _not_ breakin’ a lot of other shit, right?" Stan said, shifting gears and trying to reach for something maybe slightly less insane than… reversing entire universes? Shit. How was this his life?

"If I got Time Baby and Dad to work together with me, I might be able to recreate the 2nd Dimension, but Time Baby doesn’t like changing the past. ‘A fuck up is a fuck up and we need to accept it and move on.’ That’s essentially how he feels about it." Miz kicked her legs again. "And it’s just all sorts of unfair."

"Heh." Stan felt a little weird saying what he was gonna say next. Probably get him in trouble, too. But… he was trying to be honest with the kid, and he was pretty sure that lying would just get him into trouble later with one demon or the other, for not really being able to back his own shit up…

So Stan rubbed the back of his neck, and said: "Y'know, I didn't give up on getting my brother back. Didn't accept that, or move on. ...Maybe you don't have to bring the whole place back or nothin’, but maybe you should think about what you really want and if you want it bad enough to go for it? I mean… when I was tryin’ to get Ford back, I had a choice to keep on pretendin’ to be him, or to try and, well, stay me?" he told her, sitting back, and checking to make sure she was following what he was saying.

...Well, she _was_ still listening to him, so Stan kept on going. "I chose bein’ my brother, instead. Trashed my old life so I couldn't change my mind or get distracted by any of the rest of it. I had to be all-in," Stan told her. "Couldn't really do what I needed to do if I didn't. Cut every last tie I had with every alias and name I ever took." It hadn't been easy. Not all of it had been bad -- a _lot_ of it, yeah, but not _all_ of it.

And settling down? Trying to stay in place after so long on the run? It had been hard. No more running. No running away from _anything_.

...Not even his own reflection in the mirror, the closest thing he’d had to his brother, staring back at him.

Miz glanced over at him. "... and that’s pretty much how Bill feels about Liam too. He doesn’t want to give up on trying to get him back. Even if he had to keep collapsing dimensions into the Nightmare Realm to keep it alive long enough for him to get the power he needed to make it happen…" She looked down. "I know that what he did was horrible and he hurt a lot of people, but he thinks that once he’s the new god he’ll be able to fix everything. Bring back all the people he’s killed, fix all the dimensions he broke… and then get Liam back." She wiped her eyes again. "For him, it all would have been worth it, to get his brother back…"

Stan's eyebrows went up. He stared over at her for a bit.

"That's really what the kid's planning on doing?" Stan asked her. That was... a surprise. Because sure, sometimes the kid talked about ‘fixing everything’, but... Stan hadn’t thought that the kid might have meant, y’know, _everything_. Like, _everything_ -everything, the whole Belgian waffle stack, everything the kid had _ever_ done wrong. (...Did Ford know anything about this? Was Miz _right_ about this?)

Miz nodded. "I want to support him, even if I don’t quite agree with his methods. He’s just doing what he can with what he has. He told me he would fix everything and I’m sure he really means it. But he’s broken and I don’t think he fully knows **how** to fix things."

Damn. He’d still have to talk with the kid himself, make sure that the human-demon hadn’t misunderstood Bill, or was misexplaning the kid _now_ , but…

Stan thought about this. And...

...Stan’s surprise slowly morphed into a frown, because something _really_ wasn’t adding up here.

"...Why’s Ford got such a problem with the triangle, then?" Stan asked, almost suspiciously. If that was really what the kid was trying to do, then... that was the kind of thing Ford would be totally on board for, one-hundred percent. Ford _lived_ for that stuff, fixin’ stuff and saving people, didn’t he? Acting all 'heroic’...

Stan shook his head. None of this made sense. Not at the kind of scale Miz was talking about. Not if all the kid wanted was his brother, and his dimension, back. Besides: "Why was the first thing the triangle demon did once he got out… --the first thing the kid did was try and wreck the place," Stan pointed out. Bill hadn’t tried to fix his own dimension; the triangle demon had only gone off and tried to wreck _theirs_. "That don't jibe." And Stan had still never really gotten a straight answer outta the kid on that one, yet, either. (Not one that didn't fall flat when the kid said it.)

"You’d have to ask him for that. I think some of it might have been how messed up he is, both from the eons spent in a collapsing dimension and whatever mind-altering Deal he made with Ford. And there’s that prophecy your Ax gave him that I still don’t fully understand. Ax is blocking my Eye about that." Miz groaned. "But I don’t know the details of how brother thinks. We’re both insane but in different ways. And I don’t always understand what anyone’s thinking, even if I can feel them," ...like how she apparently couldn't fully understand what the heck Ford was about. He acted like a jerk to Stan but he _did_ like him? But he also didn't trust him? She didn't understand.

Stan sighed. "Yeah, okay." He'd just have to work with the kid to get him to the point that the kid would talk about it all with him. Because becoming a _god_ of… everything? Seemed a hell of a lot larger than… just fixing one dimension? Stan knew he was still missing one hell of a lot; had to be.

"... probably shouldn’t talk about Liam with him though. He’s really sensitive about that. Loses his temper over it at even a mention," Miz warned him. "He freaked out at Stitched Heart’s parents over being ‘parents’ too."

"Yeah, I think I got a preview of that one," Stan said. "There was this purple square--" Stan stopped. "Wait, the kid freaked out at _who?_ " Stan asked her with a frown. "--Define 'freaked out’," Stan ground out. Because, shit, had the kid gone off on somebody in town? Ford was gonna _kill_ him...

"Robbie." (Okay yeah, right, the Valentino kid, not just some random person. That was probably--) "His parents were being super-pleasant and Bill just told them that he hated them, kinda yelled at them before storming away so he wouldn’t hurt them. And then I gave him a doll to bite and scream into until he calmed down." Miz blinked. "I think Bill did really good in leaving before things got bad."

"...When did this happen?" Stan asked, glancing over at the hatch as he heard a slight creaking noise, and then he nearly did a double-take at spotting Ford’s partially-hidden form peeking through the gap in the hatch. (...Shit. How long had his brother been listening in on them there?) "This thing with, uh…"

"A few hours before Ford stormed up to the attic to try and assault Bill. We snuck out to go to the cemetery so Bill could play their piano."

Stan blew out a breath. "Right. ...Well at least the kid's still listenin’ to me on the avoiding-fights stuff." He glanced back over at Miz. "He has a real hard time walking away from fights, still," Stan explained to her, mindful of how Ford was listening in just then. "Thinks it makes him look weak, and that he's just settin' himself up to get attacked worse later. Really has a hard time turning his back on people, too; same reason. ...The kid really did that for a couple of somebodies who weren't part of his Zodiac?" Stan had thought Melody might be the _exception_ , because Soos liked her, sure, but the kid seemed to (kind of?) like her too? Stan hadn't been holding his breath to think that maybe giving a pass to non-Zodiac that the rest of them cared about might be more of a _rule_ , instead. (...Maybe he should've? Kid kept surprising him.)

Miz nodded. "He stood up and stormed out of the room." He'd been so upset he'd even forgotten he was leaving her behind. But that was fine. She hadn't been in any danger.

"Huh," said Stan. "Heh. Remind me to pat him on the head for that one later," he told Miz, with a ghost of a smile.

Miz paused, then added, "Robbie tried to come after us to tell brother off but it was resolved peacefully."

Stan's eyebrows went up. "Make that three head pats," Stan said, sounding bemused. The Valentino kid could be a little shit sometimes.

Miz looked a little down. "I’m surprised. He… controlled his temper a lot better than I do…" She hung her head. "I feel like a failure on that end."

"Kid doesn’t always," Stan told her. "But yeah, he can. ...Kid's also a hell of a lot older than you, right? Probably has a hell of a lot more practice under his hat to go along with that," Stan told her. After a moment of thought, and remembering a couple of things Miz had said about ‘her own humans’, Stan added, "With other humans, even."

"Yeah. I’m not even a trillion years old yet. But you’d think I’d be better at it since I used to be human. Even if I haven't really interacted with other humans again until recently."

"Well, you've been doin’ a lot better with the headband on, yeah?" Stan said, making a gesture with his thumb at his own forehead. "And hey, you even stopped when Ford tried to bait you earlier. Maybe I had to ask ya to, but you _were_ able to back down. I've met a lot of guys who wouldn't be able to do that; you did a good job there." Stan gently mussed her hair as a sort of reward. She seemed to enjoy it. "You ain't doin half-bad, kid. Just try keeping that up. Yeah?" Stan told her, leaving his hand on her head. Miz nodded. "I'm going to try harder."

Well, with the whole ‘her feeling other people's emotions’ thing fixed now… probably should be easier for her to keep her temper, Stan figured. She'd even said things had felt more distant, right? Maybe she wouldn't get as mad, even when she did. "Well, you’ve got that--" Stan gestured to her headband, "--to help out with it, now. Just keep it on when you're around other people."

Miz nodded. "It should help. I just still get angry about stuff." That was probably a problem with being a being of pure energy, she felt emotions with her whole being, which got hard to handle sometimes...

Stan snorted. "Everybody gets angry about stuff." Stan shrugged. "You just gotta find ways to deal that don't mean punching somebody in the face right away." And Stan spoke from experience on that one. (The number of times that had gotten him into trouble…) "It ain’t wrong to feel mad. Sometimes, you should! Just, y'know, don’t go doin’ stuff without thinking first and bein’ sure about what you're gonna do, if you ain't _right_ in the middle of that fight and got no choice but to go all-out swinging, yeah?"

Speaking of which... "Heck, you can probably get out of fights a hell of a lot easier than the kid can right now, get yourself some breathing room to do that thinking. Right?" Stan was all for more thinking, less ‘destroying’, here. _Especially_ because... getting the kid distracted and removed from things? Getting him past the initial rage and actually _thinking?_ Usually made it possible for him to actually handle stuff with the kid. (And nine times outta ten, once Stan got the kid to that point, he didn't even have to explain to the kid why he shouldn't jump right back in and pick up that fight himself again, himself; the kid already knew enough to figure it out himself, thinking through the agreement and everything else. He just needed the reminder sometimes.) "Think about what your sister would say about things, gettin’ back in that fight, before you do somethin’." That oughta cover the 'second human opinion’ part for her there, in case none of them were around the next time that happened somewhere.

(Hey, just ‘cause Stan didn’t care about other dimensions didn’t mean he was against things maybe going not so bad over there in other places, or anything. Besides, it would give the dragon-lady more practice at getting along with other people better, anyway, so she could do better when she was here and visiting the kid again.)

"Ok…" Miz mumbled. She perked up when a distinctive jingling tune reached them though, echoing across the beach. Stan looked up to see an ice cream truck trundling down one of the roadways. Miz was up and alert, staring at the vehicle as it finished its journey to the end of the road, and pulled up right beside the beach. "Ooh! Oooh!" She seemed to bounce in place. Stan snorted. Easily distracted, this kid. Just like the other demon, only more cheerful.

"You want some ice cream?" Stan asked kind of rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet. Probably break the bank on her, with how she ate, but after everything she'd just told him, it'd be more than worth it to keep her on his good side. (Or, uh, whatever. Ford didn't think "Stan's side" or whatever was good enough for triangle demons to want to be on, apparently; so what.)

Miz nodded, staring at the truck with an eager expression. Stan was about to pull out some cash when she spoke up. "Your money's from another time and dimension. I can just scan and copy the ice cream I want."

Stan looked down and grimaced. She was right; he only had those new funny-money looking bills on him. Damn. (So much for that idea. Made Stan feel a little useless.)

Miz glanced at him. "Should I get some for the kids too?"

"Naw, that's fine." Stan sighed, putting his wallet away. (He'd have to figure out something for money for the next, what, two days? Shouldn't be too hard, though. The beach was easy.) He saw Miz slip down and slide over the edge of the boat to run towards the truck. He waited a bit.

And as soon as Stan was sure she was out of earshot, Stan turned towards the hatch. "Ford," he called out lowly, and he watched his brother emerge from belowdecks. "...How much did ya hear?" Stan asked.

"‘Jerk-baby's hitman’?" Ford stated, not actually a question, and Stan visibly winced. _Shit._

"...You don't know the half of it," Stan told him warningly, as Ford approached. Because Ford hadn’t been in on any of those conversations he’d had with the demon-kids up in the attic. Not in any way, shape, or form; Ford couldn’t spy on the triangles up there. The kid had set it up that way when he'd first ‘taken over’ the attic, right from the start. "Seriously, you don’t."

"Do I need to?" Ford asked him, and Stan grimaced.

"There’s a _lot_ of junk you don't know--" Stan tried again, not quite a reference to his own issues with the mob. But Ford just frowned at him.

"That doesn’t change the fact that she's killed people."

...And it was shit like that, that made Stan wonder (in a really not-great way) what his brother would think of him if _he'd_ ever actually pulled the trigger on somebody (...or, y'know, somebody that wasn't a ‘ _demon like Bill_ ’) and killed them. Damn it.

"She didn’t want to," Stan ground out. "The jerk baby told her that killin’ was all she was good for." Did his brother really not get what the mob could do to a kid, when they got them that young?

Ford gave him a flat look. "But she still did it. She had a choice. She killed other people, just to get some other monsters out of prison or some other kind of 'made up’ trouble?" Ford not quite scoffed. "And you think that, what, that somehow gets her off the hook as some kind of actual _excuse?_ \--She has no morals!" Stan clenched his jaw. (Guess that answered his question…)

"Look," Stan told him (deciding to sidestep around what he now knew his brother wouldn't let him explain), "What do you want from me? I only met her a couple a’ days ago, and I’ve been giving her advice on how to _not_ have to do that anymore, from day two." Just like the triangle. "She said her friends stopped causing trouble after they found out what she had ta do to keep ‘em out of the slammer, so _whatever_ the hell was going on there _that we don't know about_ , they're actually watchin' each other's backs. She cares about them, and they care about her. Like family."

"You're being far too naive if you actually believe that she's been telling you the truth about any of that, or would even listen to you." Ford gave Stan a tight, angry smile. Stan huffed out a breath.

"And you’re being obtuse -- and yeah, I know what that word means, Ford -- if you think these demon kids can lie to me. The kid listens to me and I'm pretty sure that this one does too." Stan leveled a look at him. "And if that oh-so-great _lizard_ of yours wasn't tryin’ to stop her from killin’ people for this baby-jerk, when it's _supposed_ to be her dad, what's it say about her? Or maybe the lizard?"

"'Supposed to be’," Ford echoed with nearly a sneer. He made his way closer to Bill. "It’s time to end this farce," Ford told him, sounding angry as hell. "If you're really too blind to see it," Ford stomped his boot into the deck only about a foot from the kid's head. "Then I'll just have to show it to you," Ford added coldly, as the kid gave a full-body flinch at the jarring vibration so close to him and stirred, his eyes half-opening into blinking slits.

(Ford was convinced he knew what Bill's game was now, and was completely offended that his brother was actually falling for what was, apparently, some sort of ‘multiple-man con’; Bill, Miz, and that 'anti-Bill’, three.)

(That said, Ford wasn’t entirely certain what role that ‘Seb’ had had to play in all this, but Ford was _certain_ that he must have been involved in the con as well, somehow. ...Possibly to simply lend credence and backstory to Miz's supposed far-reaching travels. ...and to make Ford himself look quite insane and like some sort of paranoidly misguided fool, with that eye-trick they'd managed to pull off somehow.)

Bill, blinking, stared out across the deck for a bit. Then he slowly sat up. (That was usual for the kid after a longer sleep, Stan knew. Kid was trying to get his bearings, get his body back in whatever 'state’ he liked having it in that didn't have him too 'low’ in it, or whatever.) He watched as the kid winced and rubbed at the right side of his head like he did sometimes.

"...Stan-ley?" the kid said slowly. It took the kid another second or two, before the kid straightened in place and started looking around. "-- _Where's Miz?_ " Bill asked, turning to Stan, eyes narrowing.

"Why don't you simply review the recordings your suit was taking for you, and see for yourself?" Ford said coldly, crossing his arms and taking a wide-legged stance a bit to the left and back from Bill. That had Bill twisting in place to glare up at Ford, as Ford continued with, "It does have that rather _basic_ functionality, doesn't it?" and...

Oh shit. Stan hadn't thought the kid had set up anything here. Stan interjected quickly, "--She went to get some ice cream. She’s fine," Stan told Bill, directly offering up the info the kid had asked for (which was part of the learning promise he'd made to the kid), while glaring at his _idiotic_ brother for being so _stupid_. Because if Bill saw (or heard or whatever) some stupid recording of the conversation he’d just had with Miz--

The fingers of Bill's left hand twitched on the deck, and Bill was still glaring up at Stan’s brother for a couple of seconds… before Stan saw Bill's eyes go a bit distant and all expression just fall off of the kid's face.

Stan let out a deep and angry sigh. Damn it, Ford. That wasn't helping. Stan ran a hand across his face, and watched as Bill slowly dropped his chin, and just as slowly swiveled his head on his neck around to face him.

The kid was staring at him expressionlessly. Stan looked right back at him unapologetically.

"What do you want for breakfast, kid?" Stan asked the kid, turning away. Because hey, if the kid wasn't gonna toss a fit? Stan wasn't gonna go looking for one -- that's for damn sure.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw Bill slowly pull in a breath, and open his mouth--

\--and before the kid got a word out, Ford overrode the kid with, "Did you really think my brother would fall for your lies, _William?_ "

Stan watched the kid go still, and Stan had a sinking feeling as Ford continued with, "Really. You may be learning how to lie from my brother, but you still have a long way to go." Ford gave them a humorless chuckle. "Hardly _creative_ of you, William," Ford said next. "‘Bill’ and 'Liam’."

Stan looked up at his brother slowly. The kid wasn't moving. He was barely breathing.

"Ford," Stan said carefully. "Dunno where you're going with this, but…" he'd better stop. His brother _had_ to know better, right?

...except Ford had talked about doing things he wouldn't normally do to throw the triangle off, after Stan had finally gotten through to him after they'd listened in on Bill and the kids, before they'd scaled the ladder back onto the boat again. (--Which, y'know, Stan had been okay with 'in principle', but this had _not_ been what he'd meant!)

"Stanley, this whole--" Ford made an irritated gesture "-- _story_ of his has been one, long, unmitigated _lie!_ " Ford told him. "He’s 'repackaging’ your own _life_ to you, and presenting it as fact and truth!" And Stan slowly began to realize, Ford didn't just look desperately angry, he looked _desperate_. "Bill _doesn't_ have a brother he's trying to save; he never did!"

Stan felt a chill go down his spine, as the kid stopped breathing next to him. ...Oh shit. That… shit. Shit.

And for one dizzying moment, Stan was worried that his brother might be right. That he’d fallen for some con of the kid’s, hook line and sinker. Because it _did_ sound way too close to everything that had… it was just too messed up. Way, way too close and too messed up. And there were so many holes in it that just _didn't_ fit.

But…

...that was what shit was like. That's what _life_ was like. If it had all been too neat and pat, everything tied up in a bow, then yeah, maybe he'd have a real damn good reason to be suspicious as hell about it. But life was _messy_ and the kid _couldn’t_ lie worth a damn, Stan would bet his life on it (hell, he kind of was, and had to), and…

...when Stan looked over at the triangle, he didn't need all the logic in the world to tell him whether the kid was lying or not. He could straight-up see the dead pale look on the kid's face as the kid dropped his chin slightly and actually seemed to second-guess _himself_ and his own memories and… Stan _knew_ that look after his own recovery after the memory gun, and…

No. Oh no. Oh. Oh, this was gonna be bad.

"--Ford, take it back," Stan said quickly, in a rush, as he remembered something Miz had said, and with how the kid was reacting -- Stan suddenly realized what his brother had just said, and done. "Take it back _right now_ \--!" But it was already too late.

Stan saw the very _second_ , the moment, the instant when the thought _flashed_ across the kid's face -- as Bill finished remembering, knowing, and then told himself: _’No, I remember my brother, I'm not **that** kind of crazy…’_

And Stan saw it, in the very next instant, when the kid completely wrote off Stanford Pines forever, too.

Stan remembered the echo of Miz’s throwaway line, _"They all just ignored it, like they were trying to forget about what happened,"_ and realized what it **actually** meant; how bad it _really_ was, and had been, for the kid.

Stan realized it all as the kid straightened slightly in place, as the kid's shoulders and hands unclenched, as Bill Cipher mentally relegated Stan's brother to the trash heap of 'parents, government, and _everybody else_ ’ who had told the kid ‘no’. Who had told Bill that his brother was nothing, _less_ than nothing; that his brother didn't deserve to live; that it wasn't even worth it to think of him later; that Bill shouldn't do anything more than forget about his brother and pretend that Liam had never even existed _just like the rest of them_...

The kid was _never_ going to listen to Stan's brother again.

And that scared Stan to death. He'd been walking a tightrope balance of trying to keep his brother and the kid from going that far, from pulling that trigger, from _completely_ taking the gloves off with each other. What had happened out on the porch had been bad enough, but at least _something_ good had come out of it -- all of the deals any of them had ever had with the kid were now off. But his brother had just... here and now… Ford had...

Stan hadn't wanted to know what that would look like on either of them, _really_ taking the gloves off, but _especially_ not by the demon; and now, Stan had no plan moving forward. He'd been trying to keep things from ever getting to that point -- telling his brother to stay away, work on other things, not even think about the triangle. (He'd thought the kid was going to be the problem there, obsessing over Ford forever and never really letting go, but he’d known he could handle the kid on that. He’d _thought_ he could trust his brother to just… but Ford hadn’t. Ford had pulled the trigger on him, in the very worst way.)

And now, Stan had no idea what the kid was going to do next.

"Don't kill him," Stan breathed out, as Ford said, "Why in the world would I take it _back?!_ " all outrage and irritated confusion, oh hell. "--I want you not to kill my brother, Bill," Stan repeated. "You hear me? _Don't kill Ford._ "

And the kid closed his eyes for a moment more and blew out a long breath.

And then the kid opened up his eyes again, breathing in, and looked up at Stan with a smile. (Not a grin, just a smile.)

And then Bill told Stan, to his face, lightly and _pleasantly_ , "Why would I even think about killing him? It's just a waste of my time." Bill’s smile got just a little bit wider, or maybe deeper. "I have better things to do," the kid told Stan, as the demon looked down, brushed off his knees, and slowly stood up.

Stan couldn't entirely suppress the shudder.

"‘Efficiency’, right," Stan croaked out, thinking of a snap of the fingers, and several unmoving and suddenly-dead fish.

Bill looked down at him. He surveyed him for a moment.

"Really, Stanley," Bill said, putting his hands on his hips. "You weren’t expecting this? ...I probably should’ve," Ford’s old muse mused to himself, tapping his chin with a finger. "But then… I wasn’t _thinking clearly_ for quite awhile there, now, was I?" Bill gestured with a hand, then frowned slightly. "Certainly not along straight lines; so consistently-inconsistent of me." Bill looked back to Stan and leaned down slightly.

"Isn’t it _better_ that I don’t have that problem now?" Bill asked of Stan.

"Stop threatening my brother," Ford growled out nearby.

"I--" Stan didn’t know what to think. Stan stared up at him almost blankly, because... He had thought the kid was going to lose it. … _Why_ wasn’t the kid completely losing it?

"Really, Stanley," Bill continued, all-smiles towards him, as the kids slowly made their way up onto the deck. "It’s fine."

...And why did that simple phrase cause such a foreboding inside of Stan’s poor, old-man heart?

\---

Miz was sad. She made herself sad by thinking of things she probably shouldn't have been thinking of. She didn't like being sad. So when an excuse came up to distract herself with something NOT sad, she allowed her thoughts to drift away and focus on the NOT sad thing instead.

...For now, at least.

She knew it would come back once she wasn't distracted anymore, but that was why she loved distractions. A nice song. A new game. A tv show. A day out with her friends. Focusing on cooking. Focusing on building things. Focusing on learning something new. **Anything** to drive away the awful feeling that would consume her if she wasn't _distracted_.

Miz stood up on her toes so she could see into the ice cream truck. Creamsicles… ice cream sandwiches… cones and cups and fudge-covered pops…

She wanted chocolate. It was a better alternative to alcohol. She didn't have anything to celebrate with alcohol anyway. She stared at the ice cream other people bought as they walked away. Each template was saved inside her Mind to be able to be called up again later.

She was scanning a wafer cone with cookies and cream ice cream when she heard heard a voice ask, "So… you like ice cream?"

Miz looked over to see teenage Stan grinning at her charmingly. Teenage Ford was standing just behind him, looking giddy and holding a notebook. Miz grinned widely.

She's found a BETTER distraction!

"Hello again~" she waved. Her Perception Filter was still on, as noted by how no-one paid her any mind aside from the twins before her. She wasn't invisible, she was just _uninteresting_ to pay any attention to. From the look on young Ford's face though, he found her VERY interesting. Miz couldn’t help but feel rather flattered.

"So… uh… are you guys space pirates or something?" Stan asked her first, managing to get a question in before even Ford did.

Miz giggled. "We're travelers from a future in an alternate dimension of your timeline." She expanded the parameters of her Perception Filter to include the twins as well. "Though me and Blue aren't human," she said simply.

Time Baby was dead and fuck the path of fate. They've already fucked stuff up just by BEING here.

"Oh. Are you just… allowed to just tell us that?" Ford asked nervously, looking around. He wondered (rather belatedly) if they were breaking some sort of future-law somehow, just by talking with her and hearing about cool things like other dimensions!

Miz shrugged. "As long as you two can keep this a secret." 

Stan narrowed his eyes at her, because even as a teenager, he could pick up on things. A very perceptive child. Unlike Ford, who was so gullible and naive that Miz really, really wanted to bullshit something to him just to see his FACE. But no, Stan asked, "Why're you trustin’ us with your secret? Why'd you guys take our boat?"

"Because the boat is technically ours. Or rather, Stan's." Stan looked confused by her response but Ford put it together first. Travelers from the future. Those two old men. The way one had yelled out Ford's name but hadn't actually been talking to _him_ \--

"Oh my Einstein! Those were _**us!**_ " Ford gasped. Stan looked over.

"Sixer?" Ford was squealing. Stan smacked his arm.

Ford coughed and tried to be professional. "Lee! Those old guys are _**us**_ from _the future!_ " he gasped out.

"Alternate future," Miz clarified. "That fact that we're here already changes what future you two are gonna have." The distinction was apparently lost on them, though. She looked back at the ice cream truck as Ford and Stan practically went into spasms over the information.

"D-did you see the super cool fighting moves the future ME pulled on those cops?!" young Ford squeaked. "I'm such a Badass!"

Young Stanley was laughing and slapping his knee. "Even as old men we still get chased by the cops!" he exclaimed with no small glee.

Miz glanced over at them. "Hey, wanna see a cool trick?"

"What?" the twins asked eagerly, looking right back over to her.

Miz pointed. "What ice cream do you guys want?" The two blinked. What was she gonna do?

"--Peanut brittle cone! Two scoops!" Stan said immediately.

Ford hesitated a little before he responded with, "Vanilla cone with jelly beans?"

Miz nodded and wiggled her fingers, lifting up the sand into the air as it swirled and the atomic particles rearranged until she was holding their requested treats. As she thought, the looks on their faces were AMAZING. Then she winced. (Yeah, Ford really WAS hitting decibels only dogs could hear… wait, did that mean she was part-dog right now?!)

"Here, a freebie just ‘cause I wanted to show off," Miz said smugly as she handed the ice cream to them. The two were staring at it.

Stan took one experimental lick to make sure it wasn’t actually sand (it wasn’t! Cool!), but was already digging in and halfway through it by the time Ford was almost finished inspecting his own.

"This… was sand?" Ford stared at his own ice cream cone warily. If this was some kind of joke to make them eat sand... Ford had had enough of bullies making fun of him and his brother for one lifetime already, thank you.

"I took the sand, moved its atomic particles around and changed it’s molecular make up to be ice cream instead," Miz told him, grinning. She then proceeded to form her own blackberry cone with fudge and bite into it, partially to show young Ford it was okay, but… yummm~. She was good!

"Is this… some kinda super cool future technology? Did I invent it?" Ford asked, finally taking a few licks.

Miz shrugged. "Naw, this is my own thing. But your future self did make some--" She was cut off by the **_SURGE_** of energy in the air. She paled. Oh no. Oh shit. Even through her headband she felt that. (Which made her realize the spell on it was probably wearing off and she would need to reapply it NOW before she felt any more than this and--)

She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, slapping her hand to her forehead. Re-apply spell first. Check to make sure Bill didn't kill anyone after. Shit. Shit. Shit. She ran off, dropping her ice cream as she went. "SorrysomethingjustcameupIhavetogobye--!!"

Stan and Ford looked at each other.

"...Follow her?" Stan asked of his twin.

Ford was already running across the beach after her, barely keeping his ice cream in hand. His notebook was clutched tightly in his other.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Stan called after him, before shoving the last of his cone in his mouth and then booking it for the rocks on the beach himself. (Good thing he’d kept the binoculars on him!)

\---

Miz ran up to the boat, gasping and wavering on her feet at the intense feelings roiling inside her like a tropical storm. Augh… filter… filter...

She wobbled in the air as she jumped up onto the boat, almost losing it, trying to do too many new things at once. But then she felt a strong wind suddenly gust up underneath her, stabilizing her.

Miz let go of her own flight and focused on her filtering. When she reopened her eyes, she realized she was hovering right next to the railing, against which Bill was leaning casually, one hand casually outstretched towards her. She hadn’t realized that it had been _him_ standing there, she’d been too overwhelmed by--

"T-t-that… I… you…" She gasped, trembling. "Are you… alright? I just… felt… spellwork… faded… and…" She shook her head. God what the hell did she just feel?!

"You felt spellwork fading?" Bill tilted his head at her. "What spellwork?" he asked. Then he frowned. "Are you all right?" She’d looked a bit wobbly.

"M-my headband…"

"--Fix it," Bill said immediately, straightening.

"...needed a recharge…" she whimpered, pressing a hand to the side of her head. "Didn’t think… it would run out so soon…" Her eyes were tearing up as she held back a sob. What had happened up here? She leaves for FIVE minutes to get some ice cream and THIS--

Bill blew out a breath, then frowned a bit and leaned forward, activated a different ( _v-e-r-y_ experimental) feature of his suit, and looked the headband over. (He couldn’t do anything about anything she’d felt from anyone before now, but he could help solve the problem again.)

"You didn’t tell me it would need recharging," Bill frowned, as he let his suit help him analyze her spellwork on multiple levels, letting himself focus on _that_ , instead of... He was still frowning as he leaned back again. "You had that… one with the piece of metal on it a few days ago," he said. "Add that, and put the spell on that instead?" Bill suggested. "Should be easier to add layers to it, and etchings are more stable. It should last longer."

Miz nodded. "I… think having to keep my power suppressed was wearing down at the spell…" She groaned softly as she finally managed to filter out the worst of it. Suppressing the powers of a demon god? Yeah, definitely wore down the spell.

"I can teach you some of the ‘ambient energy feed-in’ runes I’ve been using for my own spellwork, if you didn’t get a good look at them before," Bill added. "Should keep the energy levels up, and there are ways to continually refresh the durability of the metal and the etchings as part of it."

"T-thanks…" Miz said, as she took control of her own flight and finally floated down to lie on the deck. (Bill canceled his own spell, as she took over.) Miz glanced over at him, eyes wet with tears. "But are _you_ alright? I just felt…" Even with the pounding headache, she was more worried about Bill, what he’d just felt was...

Bill stiffened for a moment, then let out a sigh, looking frustrated. "--Don’t _thank_ me," he said, sounding annoyed, as he crossed his arms in front of him. "I should have thought that, that might have been a problem and said something when you first made that." It didn’t take a genius to realize that Bill had entirely sidestepped her question. "Are _you_ feeling all right?" Bill asked after a long beat.

"I’m… going to be ok." She closed her eyes. "I’m sorry. I… was this my fault?"

Bill looked back at her and blinked. Then he turned towards Stanley.

"Stanley," Bill called out. "Is saying ‘sorry’ for things incessantly when you had nothing to do with them a human thing? I think that’s a human thing," Bill said.

That got him a grunt from Stanley and a: "For some people, yeah. Why?"

"How do you get them to stop?" Bill called out next, and Miz huffed before poking at his arm.

"I can’t help it," Miz pouted. "I feel bad and some illogical part of me thinks apologizing would make me feel better."

"Could try saying ‘stop’, but that won’t work," Stan called back, from where he was sitting down and making pancakes using a propane tank and the small camp stove he’d gotten from the crate. "Gotta help ‘em stop feeling guilty for everything they see."

"Ah," said Bill. "A challenge." He turned his head back to Miz. "Challenge accepted?" he asked.

She managed a small snort. Then she frowned again. "Ugh… what… why would…" She Flickered to try and see what the FUCK had happened here and… oh. "I can’t believe Ford _said_ that to you! Of all the insensitive…"

Bill simply _shrugged_ at this, though he did look over at where that Stanford, Pine Tree and Shooting Star were sitting together next to each other, on nearly the opposite side of the deck from where he was.

"He thinks old Seven-Eyes was telling him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing-but the truth," Bill told her under his breath. "I don’t particularly feel like _wasting my time_ trying to correct the notion," he told her far more smoothly than he felt about the matter.

"Jessie’s just as capable of lying as anyone else. And it's not like she'd always know the full story either." Miz muttered, rubbing her eyes. Her own Jessie lied about being friends with her all the time, so long as she was Miz and not Bill, they could be friends.

"You don’t know the half of it," Bill said quietly, watching Stanford with a flat stare. Then he realized what he was doing and turned away, opting to look at Stanley instead. Miz glanced over at Stan.

"I’m done wasting any more of my time on him," Bill said succinctly. "That Stanford does not deserve my help, _or_ my brilliance." He got a flash of an almost evil (really, nastily smug) expression, as he said, "Or _anything else_ from me."

Miz moved her glance over to Ford and blinked. Oh. OH. So that was what that surge of power that wasn’t just _emotion_ was. This was… Miz blinked. "Did you just… to Ford…" She slowly sat up, staring at Ford. "I didn’t realize you could DO that."

"He’s part of my Zodiac," Bill confirmed. "I can’t do anything about that." He was himself, and he was never going to change; he _certainly_ wasn't going to risk what would happen if he tried to rip himself loose of that Stanford _entirely_. (And if he hadn’t hated the stupid lizard for what it hadn’t done for him _BEFORE_ that stupid prophecy, WELL…) "But that doesn’t mean that I have _no_ choices left available to me, as to how I want to handle things with him moving forward," Bill told Miz.

Stan narrowed his eyes and glanced back at them over his shoulder. "What did you do to Ford?"

"It’s more like what I won’t do _for_ that Stanford, anymore," Bill clarified under his breath, only loud enough that it still carried to Stan over the sounds of the cooking stove and the frying dough. "He thinks I’m a liar? He doesn’t want my help? He wants to tell me that my own _mind_ is lying to me and _my brother doesn’t exist **and never did?**_ \--Fine. NO help for that Stanford from me. **NONE** ," Bill intoned.

Miz scowled across the deck at Ford. "The angry part of myself wants to give him what he wants to dish out. See how he likes it, to have someone talk to him that way…"

"You already did," Stan informed the pair of demons dryly. "Out in the forest, two days ago. So back the hell off."

Miz closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, actively working to filter out of herself any remaining flavors of the tumultuous emotions she’d felt off Bill earlier. That left her a little calmer, thankfully. "Ok. I’ll back off, but… shit. Do you even have any idea what I just _felt_ earlier? Damn."

Bill looked very on edge, probably not liking the idea that his own emotions might’ve hurt his own sister on this one. Stan glanced between them, then got back to his cooking.

"No, I don’t," Stan said, because he didn’t. (He could guess what the kid had been feeling, maybe, some of it. But Stan wasn’t gonna split hairs here, and he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it right now, and get the kid any _more_ riled up about it just then!)

"--Kid, maybe you should take her below deck and help her out with whatever ‘version two-point-oh’ you need to do for that headband of hers," Stan told the two demons both, as he took his spatula and removed the cooked pancake from the pan, to lay it on inside a large upside-down pot lid sitting next to him, before starting to add more of the ingredients to the pan to get mixed together and then cooked again -- water first, this time. "Don’t think you want to risk her feeling like you just did, again," Stan added, not reading between the lines so much as reading the lines themselves.

The two demons got up and headed for the hatch. Miz was still sending Ford sad looks. How could he be so insensitive? If she'd been going for a sob story she'd have chosen something less complicated to craft a lie about.

Ford was sending her nasty glares right back. He was convinced she was helping Bill try to con his brother in a _very_ bad way.

Miz sighed before saying softly to him, "You’re a bully," before she climbed down the hatch.

Dipper and Mabel looked back and forth between them. What had happened? "What did you say? What happened up here?" Dipper asked. They’d noticed the tension earlier when they’d come out on deck, and how Bill seemed to be acting a little… _different_ than usual (more standoffish?), but...

"Bill finally showed his hand," Ford told the two niblings. "The sob story _lie_ he’s trying to sell my brother…" Ford gritted his teeth. "That to all appearances _Stan is falling for_." Ford pulled in a breath. "...And she is helping Bill do it."

Dipper frowned while Mabel bit her lip. They exchanged glances. Mabel wasn’t so sure that was true -- Grunkle Stan could spot a liar from a mile away! And Miz had been very open and truthful to any questions they had asked her. (Hadn’t she? She’d sure seemed to be!) The only outright lie they’d ever heard from her was pretending to be a dragon (or maybe not, since she really WAS a dragon) and just a little prank with her glasses. Right?

"Are you sure?" Mabel asked Grunkle Ford. To this, her other favorite grunkle responded by blowing out a breath and… oh no, Grunkle Ford suddenly looked _really_ tired.

Ford ran a hand over his face, shoulders slumping slightly, and said, "Stan isn’t perfect. He has his blind spots."

"What did Bill say? What sob story?" Dipper asked him. He was a little skeptical still, but he knew Grunkle Stan wasn’t perfect. _They’d_ gotten away with the decaf coffee swap with him, just the other day. If it was something Grunkle Stan wasn’t looking for...

"It’s hardly worth repeating that dreck," Ford told them, leaning back against the railing. "I’d rather you not even think about falling for it, either."

Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other again. ...Well, even if it was a lie, they still needed to hear it, so they’d know what the lie _was_ so they could not accidentally fall for it. Dipper had learned this lesson last year about keeping secrets. Lying to Mabel about the Rift had only come back to bite them all in the butt.

"What did Bill say?" Dipper asked again.

"For me, it was acting as a muse and a friend for three years," Ford told them quietly. "For Stan… it is an impossible task to help a brother _who does not exist_."

The younger twins both flinched. They thought back to when Miz had revealed she had siblings out on the deck, just before bed, and when they’d asked Bill about it… he’d dodged the question. He’d refused to answer it, the way he ALWAYS did when something was true but he didn’t want to risk them figuring out that it was true (...like how he’d made that mistake out in the forest with Grunkle Ford, how he hadn’t been planning on doing that). Bill was really bad at lying. Bill was really only good at leaving things out -- which was still pretty bad! But... when Bill was answering some things but refusing to answer others (which he’d been doing with them ever since Dipper had broken his deal with him out on the porch a couple weeks ago)… it got kind of obvious what Bill didn’t want to talk about pretty quick.

The two glanced over at Grunkle Stan this time, then looked back to Ford.

"...Um, not that we don’t believe you Great-Uncle Ford, but," Dipper began, then hurriedly said, "-- _How_ do you know that Bill’s lying?" They knew he was good at telling when Bill lied, but if Miz had been helping Bill…? She was better at lying than him. So who had said what? (And how had they convinced Grunkle Stan of… _that?_ How would something like that even come up?)

Ford closed his eyes and sighed heavily, leaning back against the railing further -- trusting it with his whole weight now, not to collapse. (He’d not even heard a creak out of it earlier. Stan really had built it up quite solidly.) "--Dipper, do you remember when I told you about Jheselbraum the Unswerving? The Oracle?" Ford asked of his grand-nephew, as Mabel snuggled up against his side a little more closely. Dipper nodded, and Ford continued. "She told me about Bill’s past, about what happened to his family. He never had a brother."

"...Oh," said Mabel, as Dipper bit his lip and frowned for awhile. She’d gotten to read the a little more of the Journals, too, before they’d tossed them into the Bottomless Pit. She knew a little about Grunkle Ford’s oracle-friend, enough to know that she was really smart, knew a lot of stuff, and that Grunkle Ford trusted her a lot.

"Yes," Ford said simply.

"Well, okay," Mabel said, exchanging glances with her bro-bro. "We’ll be careful, Grunkle Ford!" she told him.

"Thank you," Ford said, relaxing a bit as he lay a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled, then curled up against him a little more.

"So, um," Mabel said next, realizing her brother needed some time to think, and that her grunkle maybe needed some time to not-think about some other stuff? "You know, Dipper and I have gone on a lot of trips to the beach before, only in California! Right?"

"Yes?" Ford said, with a bit of a furrowed brow still, but also the starts of a smile as he picked up on her social cue. "Do tell?"

" _Well_ \--" Mabel said leadingly, and she launched into the first of what Ford knew could easily be a sequence of _many_ varied retellings just from her tone, in Ford’s (quite happy) experience.

After a long tale of sandcastles and waves from two summers ago, during which Mabel was as engaging as she could possibly be, and in a longer lull after several interested questions from their Great-Uncle on the details of another trip three summers ago to a farther-away beach, Dipper finally spoke up again and said, "...Great-Uncle Ford?"

Ford blinked and looked down at him, and Mabel stopped getting ready for the lead-up to the next story. "Yes, my boy?"

Dipper felt _really_ uncomfortable about this, but maybe it needed to be said. "...What if you’re both right."

Ford blinked down at him, and adjusted his glasses. "...Pardon? Both right?" He hadn’t thought he’d contradicted Mabel in some way--

"You, and… Bill," Dipper said next, and Ford frowned, reorienting himself to their previous discussion. Ah. Oh, dear.

Ford sighed. He’d thought he’d been clear about this. "Dipper, the unadulterated truth is--"

"--I know," Dipper said hurriedly. "I know Bill lies, and you can tell. I just... " Dipper let out a breath. "Bill gets stuff wrong sometimes though, right? Like, really, _really_ wrong," Dipper noted. "Like, opposite of the way things actually work, wrong? The way things _actually_ are?" His great-uncle was staring down at him.

"...Yes?" Ford said. "But I don’t see what that has to do with Bill lying about--"

"--What if he wasn’t lying," Dipper said in a rush, and Great-Uncle Ford stopped. "I mean, he’s _insane_ , right? What if… he _thinks_ he had… --I mean, maybe he really _didn’t_ have a brother, but… what if Bill _thinks_ that… he..." Dipper trailed off, feeling incredibly nervous as Great-Uncle Ford stared down at him, and the silence grew.

Mabel spoke up softly. "Dip-Dop, if Bill really _thought_ he had a brother that he cared about a lot, that he’d want to _help_ … then why did he treat us so bad?" she asked him. Dipper looked over at her. She didn’t look very happy right then; she actually looked a little mad. "I mean, Bill must think his brother died, right? Since… his dimension was destroyed or something? And he’s got that eye that’s supposed to be able to see things anywhere? So if he doesn’t have a brother, and couldn’t find him anywhere after looking _everywhere_ , then he’d have to think that…" Mabel trailed off, then shook her head. "But Bill said he was going to _kill_ you! And he hurt Grunkle Ford a lot! He… he was going to kill me..." She took in a breath. "If he knows what that _really_ feels like, to lose somebody he really cared about, then why would he do it to anybody else?" she asked of her brother.

"I don’t know. He’s insane." Dipper muttered.

"Because he doesn’t care," Grunkle Ford told them quietly but firmly. "He’s a demon. They don’t care about anything or anyone but themselves and the little games they like to play, that _destroy_ everyone else."

Mabel and Dipper paused again. "He cares about Miz," Dipper said, and Mabel bit her lip. She hadn’t thought about that. And Bill really did seem to care about Miz, too, at least a little? Maybe even a lot more than that. Did… Bill really not care about anyone else? Was that really what it meant to be a demon? To not care about things that happened to other people, even if you knew they’d hurt if they happened to you?

"It’s an act," Ford told them. "I’ve seen similar before. --Give them an excuse to turn on each other, and watch them do it like clockwork."

Mabel bit her lip again. "Well… even if Bill’s acting, Miz isn’t? She really does seem to like Bill." But Mabel didn’t think Bill was acting either… he was too awkward about it! (And… only _sort of_ seemed to know what he was doing? Mabel had never really seen them hug each other… Bill should at least like hugs from his sibling, right?)

"She tricked you both with a pair of glasses and a lie not three days ago," Ford reminded her. Dipper and Mabel both blushed.

"But that was a prank," Dipper muttered while rubbing his eyes, trying to not remember the horror of what he’d seen when he’d looked through those things. Ew. Just… ew. (He felt bad for Great-Uncle Ford.)

"But she also knows how to act," Ford noted, "And she fooled you _with_ that act. --You have to be careful around her," Ford warned them. "I’d rather you didn't speak with her at all, and simply not give her the chance."

Dipper made a frustrated noise. "But we could learn so much from her! She really answers every question I ask her--"

"--And that might actually be helpful, under the assumption that she is not _lying to your face with every breath that she takes_ ," Ford told him grimly.

"She let me inspect her dragon form," Dipper brought up, not really wanting to let this go. (He hardly ever got anybody who knew _that much_ and would tell him anything he wanted, without getting short with him eventually. Miz hadn’t stopped wanting to talk with him yet, and Dipper wanted to make the most of it while he still could!) "I got to check her teeth and claws and everything."

"--Which is _dangerous_ ," Ford ground out. "And will likely have her enjoying the _look_ on your face when she offers to do something like that again for you, you walk _right into_ it... and she turns around and _bites_ you for doing it, instead!" Ford worked his jaw. "That’s _exactly_ the sort of thing that demons like them _enjoy_ doing. --They _like_ that look of surprise, and betrayal, and despair that people get, when they turn on them!"

The twins sighed, and Dipper pulled down on his cap. They exchanged a look. Grunkle Ford wasn’t actually listening to them. He had an explanation for everything, but… he wasn’t asking questions. He’d already made up his mind. It was like the thing with Grunkle Stan all over again, when they’d been talking to Grunkle Ford about it in the basement. He hadn’t really been listening to them then, either. The only difference was, this time Grunkle Ford was actually telling them what he thought.

They weren’t sure if Grunkle Ford was really right about Bill and Miz on this or not, but... he wasn’t even thinking about what they were telling him, really, which meant they couldn't really talk to him about some of the stuff they’d seen. --Which was bad, because he really _was_ wrong about Bill not caring about Miz -- because he really did care about her! -- and…

...they both realized right then and there, that there was no way their great uncle was _ever_ going to change his mind about Bill, no matter what the demon said or did, whether he was lying or not. Because even if their great uncle saw something like that, he’d never actually believe it.

It worried Mabel more than Dipper, because she understood better what her Grunkle was trying to do. Dipper hadn’t been in on either of those conversations, and they’d been so busy lately that she hadn’t really gotten a chance to tell her brother about it -- she’d been confused by the first one, enough that she hadn't tried to share it with him.

\--Grunkle Stan wasn’t trying to change Bill, he was just trying to get Bill to change his own behavior. If they all treated him the same, no matter what he did, then Bill would just go ahead and do his worst, because it wouldn’t matter! Because trying to be good would still get him treated like he was bad. --Bill wouldn’t feel ashamed and keep trying; he’d think he had no reason to. (And trying to be good was _hard_ for him. He really didn’t know how to do it! They had to keep telling him stuff -- and Mabel had seen how confused and frustrated Bill got about some things before with Grunkle Stan. ‘Being good’ didn’t ‘make sense’ to him, and the way Grunkle Stan had to explain it to Bill… just _wasn’t_ normal.)

But the same way Grunkle Stan was making it easy to stay at the Shack with food and things, Grunkle Stan was trying to show Bill that ‘being good’ didn’t necessarily mean that Bill had to _do_ a lot of things, or anything! Grunkle Stan was starting small, showing Bill that there were things that, if Bill _didn’t_ do them, then he’d get treated okay by people, just fine. And Grunkle Stan was also trying to show Bill that there were okay things that Bill could do that, if he did do them, then he’d get treated even better! (Grunkle Stan called it ‘positive reinforcement’! ...Well, lots of people did -- Mabel had looked it up online, when Grunkle Stan had told her that he’d looked it up, too. He’d found a book on it online, or something. She hadn’t found a book, but she’d found a bunch of articles and blogs instead, and they’d been really helpful!)

Neither she or Grunkle Stan had been trying to help make Bill and their other favorite great-uncle try and get along, of course, because that was stupid and nuts and just not gonna happen, duh! But this was… gonna be kind of a problem, if Grunkle Ford was going to keep pushing at Bill, even when Bill was trying (most days) _not_ to push back. (Especially since _most days_ wasn’t ALL days, so when Grunkle Stan wasn’t around to try and stop them...)

And then Mabel thought back to Miz’s comment, _‘You’re a bully,’_ and frowned. Because Miz was right, kind of. (Well, in the way that Bill was usually ‘right, kind-of’ sometimes, anyway.) Even if Bill totally deserved it, and even if everything else was a lie, the way Grunkle Ford was treating Bill -- attacking Bill when he wasn’t trying to do anything wrong -- was _kind of_ like bullying. Maybe Bill really just deserved it for being a jerk to her Grunkle Ford for so long; Mabel didn’t know about that. But what she DID know was that she didn’t like how it was making her Grunkle Ford act, or feel! Grunkle Ford wasn’t happy. He was really unhappy! And treating Bill like that just made her grunkle feel _horrible_ about himself. --What had happened after the thing with the explosive bracelet things out on the porch… that just proved it! Grunkle Ford had been a _mess_ after that.

Mabel had seen the way people had bullied Dipper all their lives. And now her own Grunkle Ford was acting just like them, almost. (He had a really good reason to do it! Bill was horrible, really all the time! But…) --And the way Miz had gotten angry… reminded Mabel a bit of how she’d get mad when the other kids sometimes decided to pick on Dipper. (Mabel had fought back at them sometimes if she’d had to, after giving them a chance to be friends with them instead, but she really didn’t like violence. She’d rather just make new friends who would _get along_ with her and Dipper, instead of trying to hurt them.)

"Grunkle Ford…" Mabel began. "Maybe you should stop pushing Bill." At the look she got from him, she said, "--I know, I know, he’s a stupid-head demon-dorito chip, but it makes you feel _horrible_ , and it _isn’t_ helping!" she told him.

"Mabel, sweetie, if I don’t stand up to him--"

"--you’re just making him angry, and making yourself feel hurt, and then sometimes he says stuff that hurts you, too," Mabel told her grunkle. "I’m not telling you to stop because I like _him_ ," Mabel said, because she knew where that shocked look her grunkle was giving her was coming from, "I’m telling you to stop because I love _you!_ " she told him, hugging his side. "You’re hurting yourself more than you’re hurting him, and I don’t like it!" she said, huffing out a breath and trying not to cry, as she buried her face in his side.

"...Mabel," she heard her grunkle say softly, and she felt him curl an arm in around her. "If I don’t…"

"Then maybe he does something, and maybe he doesn’t, but why does it have to be _you?_ " Mabel asked him. "We can help! Grunkle Stan can help! And you’re not standing up to him if he’s not attacking you first! You’re just giving him a reason to attack you back without breaking the agreement-thing Grunkle Stan made for us all, and that's _stupid_ ," she told him, smacking him in the arm, because her grunkle wasn’t stupid, he was smart! And... "Grunkle Stan said Bill’s allowed to defend himself! And if you attack first then he’s allowed to hurt you back!"

"That’s…" Ford huffed out a breath. "Mabel, I know this. That isn’t the issue," he told her. "The issue is everyone simply _letting_ Bill do whatever he wants without anyone trying to stand in his way. That _cannot_ stand," he told her. "Someone has to try and stop him."

"Hey now," Stan said, as he walked his way over to them. "I’m not letting the kid do whatever he wants, Ford. You know that," Stan grunted, as he set down the pot lid full of pancakes in front of the three of them. "And stop him? From what? Playing the piano? Going fishing? Falling asleep on the picnic tables outside? I _want_ him doing those things, Ford. Means he’s not doin’ something else, like starting a second Weirdmageddon or killin’ people, instead."

Ford pulled in a breath, and let it out again. "It’s all just a front, Stan. We _talked_ about this."

"Yeah, we did," Stan told him, sitting down and passing out forks. "And I _told_ you, I’m okay with him ‘pretending’ at me for three years at a stretch, with another punch in the eye in-between if I have to, until I get him all settled out."

"That’s not what’s going to happen, and you know it," Ford said darkly, as Stan speared himself a pancake.

" _You_ don’t know that’s _not_ what’s going to happen, and neither does the kid," Stan told him right back, before he rolled his pancake up like a cigar and took a big bite out of it.

Ford opened his mouth to object, and Stan shot him a look. "--Eat your breakfast, Ford," Stan told him, as the kids took one look at each other, and tried the ‘pancake roll’ eating method their Grunkle Stan had just inadvertently shown off to them. Mabel slathered corn syrup on hers.

"We really should be trying to shift our schedule to the times in this dimension," Ford told him. It was early evening here, even if it was morning back in their home dimension. That only produced a shrug out of his brother, and a careless, "We’re only gonna be here another day, Ford. Relax."

"...Assuming we trust Bill to get us all home and in one piece," Ford muttered, though he did spear a pancake of his own without needing another glare from his brother to prompt him.

Towards the end of their meal, the hatch opened up and the two demons climbed back out again, Bill first. Miz had changed her headband again; there was intricate embroidery in the cloth sections and etching across a metal plate that covered most of her forehead. She was still adjusting it as she came out. "Still think I like yellow better, but Ford would probably throw a fit…"

"Yellow doesn’t blend well," Bill told her, "This isn’t the Mindscape. You don’t need to stand out in the same way, here. And you certainly don’t need to be displaying ‘attack colors’ to the idiot while he’s here, armed, and _thinks_ he’s dangerous," Bill shrugged off, waiting for her to get the rest of the way up and out, before closing the hatch behind them.

"‘Here’?" Ford repeated slowly. Did Bill think he was going somewhere?

Bill barely spared him a glance. "What, you weren’t thinking about running off and trying to ‘fix’ things for your counterpart here? Or should I say, ‘keep things from breaking’," Bill said, as Miz rolled her eyes.

Ford sucked in a breath, hard. Stan froze in place.

"Oh, right, I’m talking to a _Stanford_ ," Bill said flatly. "What I _really_ meant to say was: ‘keep some _one_ from breaking some _th--_ ’."

"--Stop talking. _Now._ " Ford said angrily, rising to his feet. Bill turned his head to look at him, arms crossed, eyes hooded.

Miz sighed. "Brought this on himself for being an ass…" she muttered before stepping back to let Bill handle this.

"What, you don’t think actions have consequences?" Bill said. "Oh, but _don’t worry_ ," Bill added. "I know how this is _all going to play out_."

"What. did. you. _do_." Ford demanded, advancing on him.

"Oh, _I_ didn’t do anything," Bill said. "That’s rather the point. --The _lesson_ ," Bill drawled out, glancing down at Stan, to meet his eyes. "Which, really, let’s be _honest_ here, is why I’m _not_ going to be trying to make a portal tomorrow morning," Bill told them all. "It’s going to be tomorrow evening, instead," Bill told all and sundry, arms still crossed. "Because when _you_ are done trying to ‘fix’ things, _Stanford_ ," Bill said, lifting an arm up to point a finger at Ford’s chest, "And _breaking_ them even further, _he_ ," Bill pointed to Stan, "Will then do what _he_ **always** does, and go ahead and then _actually fix it!_ " And Bill was almost staring snake-eyes at Ford, who was practically shaking with rage.

"You seem… to have… your _causality_ rather _mixed up_ again, Bill…" Ford managed to get out without attempting to punch the demon into next week. (Mostly because he knew he couldn’t. Not with that suit Bill was wearing; the tech in it would let gun blasts ricochet off of it, to say nothing of absorbing the impact of his fists.)

Miz was leaning against the railing. "I really want to tell them. The truth about what happened," she grumbled. Ford nearly turned on her then and there, but he halted when she held up a hand and, to Ford’s horror, a modified version of Bill’s suit flickered into view for a brief second on her, as well.

"Oh, they’ll figure it all out soon enough," Bill told her, keeping his eyes on that Stanford. (He’d known about the suit; he’d helped her make it before heading back up to deck where that Stanford was. Just in case.) "Best not to spoil it! Besides," Bill added darkly at the end, " _IT’S NOT LIKE THEY’D BELIEVE US IF WE TOLD THEM._ "

Miz whined, "I hate misunderstandings that aren’t innocently funny."

"...Kid," Stan began slowly. But Bill just looked down at him and said, "You’ll be able to fix it. If you want to. That Stanford’s an idiot," Bill told him, "But you’ll know _EXACTLY_ what to do."

Stan not quite glowered at Bill. Meanwhile, Ford stalked past him. "---Where are _you_ going?" Stan called after him.

"I’m going to keep watch on the _house_ ," Ford called back angrily. "To stop _you_ from doing anything stupid. _Again!_ " He reached the stern end of the boat and vaulted the railing.

Stan stared after him. He felt suddenly cold.

"Idiot," Bill said of that Stanford, watching him go.

"He really acts like he doesn’t like you," Miz groaned. "Besides, the young twins are still spying on us from that rock…"

Stan pulled in a shaky breath.

"...Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked him.

Stan let out that breath again. "Yeah, well… Ford’s an idiot sometimes," Stan said. "But not _that_ much of an idiot. Dinner's at six. They’ll be gone soon. Ma would kill ‘em… us… if we weren’t back in time. So..." he shrugged.

"...you really love him." Miz noted. She had a pained expression on her face. "It’s not fair."

Stan let out a long sigh. "I really screwed things up for him," Stan told them all, as he grabbed up the empty pot lid and other debris left over from the meal. "He’s got a right to be mad about that."

"You didn’t, though." Miz muttered. "He still got to go to college. He still got a huge fancy grant check to do whatever research he wanted…"

Bill let out a soft laugh. "Oh, Miz," he said, leaning back. "You’re focusing on _ENTIRELY_ the wrong things…"

"Stan was seventeen when he was kicked out." Miz complained. "He was a child! Thrown out and living all by himself! Ruin Ford’s life? Heck, Ford’s not the one who had to worry about getting enough to eat or staying warm or not _dying_."

Stan looked highly uncomfortable at what Miz had just said (...while Bill continued looking all kinds of amused). "I was fine," Stan told them, more to the niblings than to the two demons. "I had my car, I had my… our boat, and I had all the funds and food and junk I set aside for…" He looked around. "...this." Stan’s shoulders slumped. _‘Things just got harder later, because I was tryin’ to find a way to get rich quick, to try and buy myself back into the family.’_ He didn’t say that out loud, though.

"It’s still not fair." Miz sniffled, wiping at her face. "You shouldn’t have had to go through that. Especially when--" She stopped and turned away in frustration. Stan noted that. Bill had told her not to say anything and it looked like she was obeying her brother. Stan let out a breath and scratched at his cheek, before he looked over at Bill again.

"You’re enjoying this," Stan said darkly to the demon.

"Oh, you have _NO IDEA_ ," Bill said, grinning. "I want to see the LOOK on YOUR FACE when you stop _feeling bad_ about having gotten kicked out." Stan’s eyes narrowed. Miz made another frustrated sound, clearly wanting to tell Stan whatever it was that Bill must have told her not to say.

Mabel and Dipper sat up at that. Miz was clearly struggling to keep the truth hidden, because she wanted to tell them whatever she knew about what had happened. And holding onto this information for Bill was clearly frustrating her. They exchanged a glance, thinking about what their Great-Uncle had said about the demons being liars, but also what they knew about how the two of them acted from what _they’d_ seen themselves. --What was it that Miz wanted to say so badly, that Bill didn’t want her to share with them all, about what had happened with their grunkles, that she thought they needed to know?

Bill lifted a finger and twirled it slightly, then side-eyed Miz and made a flicking motion.

Stan looked downright alarmed, glancing between them. "What did you just--??!" He hadn't thought the kid would attack his own sister, let alone raise a single finger against her!

"--It’s just a little bit of help," Bill said. "A bit of a relaxant and a slight garble-words spell. Not very strong. She can shrug it off easily if she wants to, whenever she wants to. Nothing to keep her from doing it."

Miz sighed, feeling the guilty tension in her chest go away. "Oh… I hate keeping secrets…" She slid down to lay on the deck (which she had thoroughly and microscopically cleaned way back when they’d first gotten here, she wasn’t going to lie down on something dirty) before groaning out, "Thanks, big brother."

"Mm," Bill hummed at her thanks. "You know, it’s not a secret," Bill told her. "It’s a surprise!"

"I don’t like surprises," Stan told him flatly.

"Grunkle Stan…" Mabel said slowly, looking between him and Bill. (She sort of recognized that tone from some of the things she’d done with Bill at the spaceship, doing ‘lab things’ with him. Bill sounded a little… angrier maybe? But he was still…)

"--You’re also a con-man, not an actor," Bill told Stanley. "But I’ll tell you what," Bill said. "If you go through all of everything that's coming in, oh, the next 24? 36? hours or so, and _you_ can’t come up with a perfectly good ‘fix’ by just reacting to things as they come? Then I’ll work out whatever nonlinear time loop we’ll need to do to settle things out for you, _just_ the way you want them to go, instead." Bill tilted his head at him.

("Mabel," Dipper said slowly, but Mabel wasn’t sure… This _didn’t_ feel like the learning lessons that Bill had set up for her for science-things, _or_ the way Bill had promised to keep things from going too bad, as long as she ‘colored within the guidelines’ close enough for Bill to fix things if she screwed them up with any of the chemistry stuff she sometimes liked to play with. To Mabel, this was starting to feel a lot more… **mean** , underneath it all.) 

Miz was crawling over to grab a pancake. "Ugh… I still haven’t gotten around to apologizing to Ford yet. Every time I think I can, he just does something else to make me too annoyed at him to be sincere about it." She stuffed a whole pancake in her mouth.

"I don’t want to be playing games with you, kid, ruining two other kids’ lives over this beef you have with Ford," Stan told the demon staunchly, talking over Miz’s head.

"Who said this is a game?" Bill said. "A game implies a winner, a loser, and a prize. There’s no prize here, and you can’t lose."

("Oh no," said Dipper, having a bad feeling where this might be going, and Mabel didn’t feel any better about it, either. Great-Uncle Ford had warned them about Bill and games...)

"Kid," Stan said angrily. "We’ve talked about the difference between not losing and winning."

"Yes. We have." Bill eyed him. "What makes you think I don’t want you to win? Besides," Bill said, "If _you_ decide to 'play’, then no lives will be ruined by the end of it!"

Stan gritted his teeth. "What does my brother lose out of this?" Stan asked, because he’d better damn well know the stakes before he went any further.

"His pride, dignity, and any high-horse high ground he _ever_ thought he had about that STUPID project of his, that he’s built up to be _so great_ ," Bill told him promptly, with an edge to his tone. (Dipper and Mabel both exchanged a glance, Mabel wincing.)

"...You’re really wanting to take my brother down a peg, aren’t you," Stan said slowly. "And you were plannin’ this even before this whole thing… on deck." Bill nodded once. (Stan didn't even have to ask what _he'd_ be getting out of this; Bill had already told him: knowledge. Something the kid valued above all else. And Stan knew that if he devalued _that_...)

Stan gritted his teeth. "...Rules?" Stan asked.

"Grunkle Stan, no!" Dipper said, as Mabel chimed out a similar protest.

"Oh, it’s very simple," Bill said. "You, and Pine Tree and Shooting Star and Miz and myself, don’t discuss the science fair project -- or anything _else_ that happened surrounding those events -- with _anyone_ untilllll…" Bill stopped to think. "Hm. At least 8 o’clock tomorrow night. Unless and until I say otherwise," Bill added, and Stan recognized that last bit of wiggle room from the ‘no dimensional talk’ thing; Bill was leaving them all a little leeway on that one, but they’d have to go through _him_ for it.

Miz lazily waved a hand. "Will do~" Bill smiled down at her.

"Thank you, Miz!" Bill said winningly. He looked up at Stan expectantly.

"...That’s it?" Stan asked. Bill nodded. "And Ford does whatever the hell he wants in the meantime." Bill nodded. "What are you offering up as an incentive, yourself?" Stan asked next. If knowledge was something he'd get out of ‘playing’, not straight from the kid, then Stan wanted to know what the kid's own buy-in was for getting to watch how it all shook out.

"Any help out of me that you’d like in the meantime," Bill said promptly, and that left Stan blinking. "And in your ‘fix’ later, if that’s what you want to do."

"You’re serious," said Stan. Bill nodded. Shit. This was a recipe for disaster. The kid was _positive_ that Ford was gonna fuck it all up somehow.

"Grunkle Stan, you _know_ Bill makes bad deals…" Dipper said slowly, eyeing Bill. He didn’t really get this whole thing. Bill really thought he and Mabel would agree to some weird terms for whatever this thing was that was going to hurt their Great-Uncle? "Why are you even talking about this with him?"

"This ain’t a deal, Dipper," Stan said heavily, while giving the kid a long look.

"--More of a promise, really!" Bill said brightly, which had both Mabel and Dipper frowning at him, because… a promise? Since when did Bill make _promises_ to people? And how was that different than a Deal?

"Grunkle Stan, whatever you decide to do, it’s okay," Mabel told him, getting up and walking over to touch his arm. "We’ll help. Okay?" Because whatever Grunkle Stan wanted to do… she wanted to help. He knew Bill better than they did right now, and if Grunkle Stan thought this was important… she’d trust her grunkle.

Stan looked down at her and pulled in a breath. "Okay, sweetie," Stan told her. "I, uh, I gotta think about this some more first," Stan told her, which got him a bright smile and a hug from her before she ran off to the other side of the deck, where Miz was with the fish. Dipper gave Stan a long look, before getting up and walking over after Mabel himself.

"--Oh my gosh!" Mabel gasped when Miz unhooked a fish and swallowed it whole. She’d seen her do the same thing as a dragon, but seeing her do in in her ‘human’ form looked really weird. "How big of a thing can you swallow?" Mabel asked her.

Miz shrugged. "Haven’t really tested."

"...Mabel," Dipper said, feeling a little nervous. He was still a little stuck on some of the things Great-Uncle Ford had said before, both with Bill _and_ with Miz. And it wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to find out he was wrong about by _being_ wrong about it...

"Like, how wide can you open your mouth?" Mabel asked Miz, undeterred.

Miz frowned. "I probably shouldn’t try. Don’t want to accidentally bite you. That would suck, I actually like you," she said matter of factly. "In fact, please don’t put any body parts in my mouth. I’m fine if I’m well fed but I’m a little hungry right now so it might be dangerous." She grumbled under her breath about an idiot summoner who had wanted to get in her mouth.

" _Don’t go eating any of my Zodiac, Miz!_ " Bill called out, as he walked over from the other side of the deck, letting the reminder hang in the air before him. He tried not to complain about her eating habits -- she could just jump bodies when she needed to, so it shouldn’t influence her that much if her stomach was breaking things down as far as she said it did, but still… couldn’t she at least have some better standards? Jumping into gnomes, and eating random summoners, were both just...

Miz shrugged, entirely unrepentant at her gluttonous attitude. "I won’t eat your Zodiac. Or any other person without consent."

"Define ‘consent’," Bill muttered, then grimaced and waved it off, apologetic. He knew how serious she was about free will. Miz blinked. "Should I answer? Just so Stan and the kids know, at least?"

"If you want," Bill told her, glancing back at Stanley, who was thinking to himself, as he’d said he would. (Bill had thought to give him some physical space for it, since he’d seemed to need it.) Stanley always seemed interested in what he called ‘triangle demon definitions’ for things. Something about being a ‘multilingual translator’, apparently. It had been a bit confusing, but Bill was fairly certain he’d gotten the main point Stanley had been trying to make, at least.

Miz glanced at them. "For the eating thing, I don’t like eating food that’s still alive. So like, if I catch a moose for a snack, I check if it’s capable of understanding words and reasoning. There’s a difference between animals and people, sort of thing. If it’s an animal, I kill it and eat it. If it’s a person, I generally let them go. But there are some species that don’t particularly care about being eaten, male Cyclopians are kinda biologically into that. The problem is that they want to mate before being a meal and I am not comfortable with that."

(The twins made disgusted faces, but… Bill had said it was like a praying mantis so they could sort of understand it a little, even if they both found it gross and more than a little messed up.)

"--and there was that time I got summoned by this idiot who’s Deal was that he wanted to get in my mouth. I told him what would happen to him if he did such a thing but he _insisted_. Course, he was wearing a bomb and had his friends hidden behind some rocks, hoping to kill me from the inside by sacrificing this guy… and I’m getting off topic aren’t I?" Miz frowned. "Sorry, that happens a lot with me."

Miz shook her head. "Anyway, I don’t eat people unless they specifically tell me that I can. I need them to agree to it before I’m comfortable doing so."

The two young humans just stared at her with their mouths hanging open. Finally Dipper said (very clearly), "I do **not** want you to eat me." ("Same!" Mabel echoed, putting a hand up in the air.)

Miz nodded. "Ok. I won’t anyway since you’re Bill’s and he doesn’t want me to, but it’s nice to know for sure! I promise I will not eat you, kill you, or harm you on purpose. --And I’m gonna try not to hurt you by accident either, but I can’t promise accidents away. So I’m just going to tell you to not stick your hands in my mouth while I’m hungry."

"Why _are_ you hungry anyway?" Mabel asked. "Can't you just weird-magic it away?"

Miz shrugged. "I think it’s half mental and half the vessel I’m wearing. My vessel is physical, and has some needs. I enjoy fulfilling those needs and I like eating, so I don’t mind. There’s plenty of food here anyway." She took another fish and swallowed it.

Dipper thought about that a bit. "Wouldn't you feel better if you just didn't feel hungry at all?"

Miz tapped her chin in thought. "Sometimes, maybe. But I like being able to feel things. It makes me feel alive. Which I AM but part of me wants biological urges to really drive that point home."

It made her feel alive? Dipper wondered about that. He remembered what it had felt like when Bill had dragged him out of his body, and he'd been stuck in the Mindscape, unable to touch or feel anything. (He hadn’t exactly felt ‘alive’ like that. Maybe…) He got a thoughtful frowning look.

Miz sighed and was looking over to the ocean again.

"You can go get more food. You don’t need my permission to go get something to eat," Stan called out to her, looking over from his continuing mulling over what Bill had said (trying to figure out all the angles), having noticed when she finished off the last of the fish from before. Miz gave him a grateful smile, before turning back into her dragon form and slipping out into the ocean.

Bill leaned back against the railing to watch her, while Dipper and Mabel stood around somewhat anxiously for awhile, slowly drifting their grunkle’s way… until they heard their Grunkle Stan let out a sigh and a grumble.

"Grunkle Stan… what do we do now?" Mabel asked her grunkle quietly, as she walked a little closer to him and hugged up against his side. "Do we just… let Grunkle Ford go off on his own?" She felt worried about everything, the longer they let things go.

Stan grunted and wrapped an arm around her side. "My brother can take care of himself," he told her. He looked away and let out a sigh, as he kept half an eye on watching Miz swim; she was staying within sight of the boat, just like he'd asked her before. (Stan wondered a little about that. She did seem to be trying pretty hard to listen to him, even without even a proper agreement in place with her. ...Was it really because her brother was part of it that she wanted to play nice? Or was something else going on?)

Well, she was easier to handle than the kid at least. More eager to try and make him happy with her as well. (...which was probably part of why the kid didn't trust the two of them alone. ...Heh, fair. He'd already gotten a bunch of info out of her that Bill hadn't been ready, or all that willing, to share.)

"But hey," Stan told the kids, "That doesn't mean we're gonna let the knucklehead run off and get into any more trouble without us." He looked over at Bill. "I'll play this ‘game’ of yours for now, but I pull the plug on it when I want. Understand?" he said, ignoring the gasp he heard from Dipper for now.

"I told you, it's not a game. It’s more of a promise," Bill repeated, then he got an odd glint in his eye. "--No no, actually… it’s more of a _LESSON_ ," Bill enthused out next with the start of a smile, and that sent a slight chill down Stan's spine. (Mabel frowned.) "Call it… something like a penalty, for trying to get information about me out of someone else other than me, instead of asking me directly."

Stan sighed. Yeah, he figured the kid wasn’t happy about how Stan had talked to Miz about his family and his brother behind his back. But still… "You were planning on doing this before that," Stan pointed out. (He should've known the idea of him taking penalties for some things would come back to bite him soon enough.)

"Yes," said Bill. "But I might have let you talk me out of keeping things to myself before." Bill gave him a long look. " _Now_ you get to see what it looks like when I keep things to MYSELF, instead. So you’ll know the DIFFERENCE, for later." Bill's eyes flashed angrily. "Since you _obviously_ CAN'T TELL the difference right now." The kid looked pretty angry with him. (Right. Because he hadn’t really listened to the kid earlier, before they’d left, and had rushed him and practically told him to shut up, instead. Like being stuck for two days in another dimension away from home with his brother freaking out on him left and right wasn’t enough of a problem as it was...)

"You don't just get out of lessons or penalties just because you don't like them," Stan noted, not wanting to set a bad precedent, here. "This isn’t either of those. --I want to be able to call this thing off. _My choice_ ," Stan stressed. Bill nodded but continued to narrow his eyes at Stan.

"Oh yes," Bill said. "Your choice. Absolutely. **But.** Then _I_ don’t have to HELP you with any of it anymore, since there will be NOTHING more to help YOU _with!_ And..." Bill paused for a moment, shifting weight from side-to-side, bobbing slightly in place (and looking like he was trying to build up some kind of argument to keep going, Stan had seen this out of the kid before…)

"But?" Stan prompted him.

Bill frowned slightly. " _Most_ of you seem to think that one of my problems is, hm, OVERSHARING about certain things that then lead to a ‘stop’?" Bill said lightly.

"--Not with me," Stan said quickly.

"But with others?" Bill asked. "Like Shooting Star and Pine Tree? Or ‘your brother’?" Bill asked of him, leaving Stan grimacing. "-- _Well_ , we might as well try to ‘calibrate’ things a bit, and see if _not saying anything at all_ is actually undersharing!" Bill grinned at him. "And I didn’t say it’s a ‘penalty’. I said it’s ‘something like a penalty’."

Stan and Bill stared at each other for a long few moments, the tension building. Stan _really_ didn’t like this. (What he liked even less was that the kid was trying to get him to trust him, thinking that he knew Stan well enough to know what he could or couldn’t do… and _maybe_ help him after the fact if things went all to hell. This was practically turning the whole agreement on its head, upside down. Bill was trying to take the lead, here.)

The tension was broken when Miz slapped down a freaking MARLIN onto the deck. "I got a BIG one!" she cheered, wagging her tail like an excited puppy. ("Whoa!" Dipper backpedaled quickly out of the way, nearly getting hit with some of the splash, and almost hiding behind Grunkle Stan at the end of it.) She nudged it with her snout towards Stan. "How do we cook this?" She bounced in place, one clawed hand resting on the fish’s side to keep it from flopping around. It twitched weakly, paralyzed from her stinging tendrils.

"Geez, it’s huge! How…" Dipper stared at the blue fish. He’d never seen one of these up close before.

Mabel gasped. "That’s enough to last us like… a week!"

"More like a day or two, with how much Miz usually eats," Stan put out there, grounding expectations. He glanced over at Bill again. Miz asking for help with the cooking reminded him of something Bill had said that had almost slipped by him. "Give me a minute, Miz," Stan said. "--Kid, you said you’d help me with _whatever_ I want in the meantime, if I go along with this thing. Yeah?"

Miz was shrinking back into her human form, currently dressed in a one piece bathing suit. Probably since she was planning to go swimming some more later. Mabel noted that she had made it a soft green color. (Miz had done that for their comfort, wearing less yellow.)

Bill tilted his head at Stan. "Yes?" the kid said, not looking the least bit suspicious or held back about it. ...And that just turned everything on its head all over again for Stan and left him blinking, because the kid wasn’t just trying to get Stan to maybe play by _his_ rules on something, to his own tune and dance. --The kid was wanting to see how far Stan would go with this, too.

Hell, the kid hadn’t laid out _any_ limits except keeping one set of information out of the way for the next, what, day, day-and-a-half? He hadn’t given any limits to _Stan himself_ on what he could or couldn’t ask out of Bill as ‘help’ in the meantime, and _Stan_ was the one with the authority to call it off. --This wasn’t just some game, here, and it wasn’t just some ‘getting even’ session for the kid with Ford. This was a **test**. A damn big one. Kid really wanted to see what he would and could do, and the kid was trying to balance it out with something just as big -- almost unconditional and unrestricted, unlimited help. Up to and including things like time travel, which even Ford didn’t know how to do. Hell.

(...But the thing was, as much as Stan wanted to bite and try this out -- better sooner than later, when things could go really, _really_ wrong back home -- Stan still wasn’t sure _why now_ and why like _this_. The kid must have been planning this since earlier, when he’d first said ‘two days’, but… hell. Ford had seriously pissed the kid off and now... Would Bill had even _said_ anything to remind them all about this? To make them think that sticking around and 'fixing things’ was even an option? Stan knew he sure as hell wouldn't have thought of it on his own; he'd thought of that experiment for too long as something he could only try and make up for, never fix. Had the kid been planning on keeping them all distracted until the last minute before they were going to leave for home, instead of dangling ‘fixing things’ in front of them all right now, before Ford had pissed him off and gotten _written off_ by the kid and… How had _that_ changed things for them? _Had_ it changed things for them? --Would the kid have even offered to help him with it all _at all_ before? Or would the kid have just said something quickly about it right before they left, before they really had time to think about it, and then...)

(Ford had acted like Bill was trying to lie about ever having a brother. And Stan… hadn’t said anything about it yet, other than to not kill Ford over it. That probably meant that the kid didn’t know where Stab stood yet, on something the kid considered really important, but… Stan didn’t even know what the right question was, here. And now Bill was trying to test him, to figure something out; this whole thing wasn’t just about ‘not listening to him’ -- that was just the window dressing, the surface, not the depth the kid was going for, here. Not by a longshot -- Stan got _that_. So what did the kid want to figure out about… him? That had to do with… Liam? And what the hell could seeing how Stan up and decided to handle something with another set of twin- _thems_ , have anything to do with any of _that?_ )

"...What’s _your_ risk?" Stan asked the kid, finally, and as straightforwardly as he could -- because maybe this _wasn't_ what the kid would call a ‘game’, but… "I recognize a gamble with a payoff when I see one," and he saw Bill’s eyes darken slightly at the question.

" _My_ risk," Bill said quietly, "Is that you’ll figure something _else_ out that I don't want you to know before we’re back in your dimension again. And that would cause problems for me."

Stan blinked, then considered the kid carefully. (Okay, so that answered one question. With the way the kid had been trying to keep Miz from ‘telling all’ about things here, the kid probably _would’ve_ just tried to get them to leave before, without getting into anything with the twins lives here. Not with the way he was talking about things now, and what he _didn’t_ want talked about.)

"...Me askin’ you to do something crazy ain’t a risk?" Stan asked of the demon next, who just blinked at him.

" _Is_ it?" the kid asked him. ...Well, shit. _That_... was a LOT of ‘trust’, there.

Stan blew out a slow breath, then eyed Bill. "I could ask you to tell me what the thing is that you don’t want me figuring out before we’re back, right now," Stan put out there.

"Yes," said Bill. "But then I’d say that that was related to the science fair project closely enough to not answer it. And not give you the pass on it."

"But that… expires here, after I’m done fixing things, and we go home," Stan said. Bill nodded. Stan gave him a long look. _‘Three days,’_ the kid had said to Miz before. …Aw hell. Maybe the kid was distracting _him_ here with _this_ , too. Maybe the thing he should be more worried about _wasn’t_ what was happening _here_ ; the **real** problem was gonna be something with himself, and Ford, once they got back, instead.

...which meant that everything that happened here was, _what_ exactly, to the kid?

" _Fine_ ," Stan ground out, not real happy with the whole situation here at the moment, or the kid in general. "We’ll do this. --Kids?" He turned to them, and Mabel nodded, but Dipper looked a little belligerent. "Dipper," Stan said with a sigh. "I need you to trust me…" Dipper looked away, tugging at his hat.

Miz was keeping herself busy descaling the fish, ignoring the conversation so she wouldn’t be tempted to spill any secrets. She cleaned the fish, purged it of any and all parasites or harmful bacteria as she went.

"...If _I_ tell you I want you to tell Bill that this ‘game’ thing is over, you’ll do it?" Dipper asked of his Grunkle Stan finally. After what had happened to Great-Uncle Ford in the woods, and Grunkle Stan _still_ not doing anything about it, Dipper wasn’t exactly feeling the trust.

"Yeah, okay," Grunkle Stan said, kneeling down in front of him. "You two are the ones with the ‘threads’ looking out for Ford in the agreement, yeah? So if you’re that worried about him…" Stan glanced between them both. He knew he could count on them for this, even if _he_ got pissed off with his brother, no matter what else might happen. (Not like the science fair project wasn’t still a sore spot for his brother, apparently. So if he lost it, too...) "If you _and_ your sister agree that this thing should stop? I’ll pull the plug on it right then for you. Okay?" Stan trusted the kids to be _both_ their safety nets, to stop them before things got too bad.

(It wasn’t like Stan didn’t remember what had happened with the circle the first time. He’d listen to the kids this time. He would.)

Dipper exchanged a glance with Mabel, who nodded at him, looking almost as worried, but also willing to trust their grunkle... and Dipper let out a long sigh.

"I really hope you know what you’re doing, Grunkle Stan…" Dipper said, looking at him and letting go of his hat.

Dipper didn’t feel too much better after the unhappy smile his grunkle gave him, but at least he knew his Grunkle Stan was taking him seriously when he clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "Yeah, kid. I know. ...I know."

Miz spoke up quietly, a certain topic crossing her mind again. "How does one apologize for existing?" She was still trying to figure out how to finally give Ford an apology. Stan looked over at her. He was dead-tired of this.

"You don’t," Stan told Miz, dropping his hand from Dipper’s shoulder and slowly standing back up. "You _never_ apologize for existing. Somebody tells you otherwise, they’re the one with a problem. Not you." Because fuck that noise, no matter _who_ it came from. ~~(Ford might be his brother, but he didn’t have the right to make anybody feel that way. Nobody.)~~

"But that was what made Ford freak out. And I still haven’t been able to apologize for making him freak out." Miz groaned. After all, the kids still wanted an apology from her to Ford, and she still didn’t know how to do it.

"I _told_ you," the kid said, and he sounded almost as stressed out and angry as Stan felt about what Miz had just said, though for a very different reason. "You existing _is not the problem._ It’s that Stanford’s fear, and stupid ‘morality’, and control issues, and decisions, and choices--" Shit, the kid was getting himself worked up.

"--Bill," Stan cut the kid off, and the kid looked irate. " _Breathe._ " He wasn’t trying to tell the kid to shut up, just trying to calm him down. "--Miz. Ford knows you’re some kinda demon. He ain’t freaking out about that now. Not anymore. Whatever the hell he’s trying to work through ain’t just you showing up on our doorstep."

Miz glanced over at Stan. "...So what do I do now?"

Stan sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. "You think you could maybe find a boning knife down in the hold, in one of the other crates in the bottom of the ship?" he said to her, dropping his hand and going with completely changing the subject. (Hey, if it worked with the kid…) "I’m pretty sure it’s in one of the ones with a lot of beans on top. --Bags, not cans."

Miz nodded and went off to search through the indicated crates. As she slipped down the hatch, Mabel turned to Stan with a wide eyed look. "Is… _that_ what Miz thought she was supposed to apologize to Grunkle Ford for? For… ever being _born?_ " Mabel asked him in rising tones, looking horrified. She remembered how Miz had said her existence was what upset Ford, but she hadn’t thought Miz had meant it like THAT.

"Yeah," said Stan. "They told me what they said out in the woods to him, more or less. It was pretty much that, but… it’s not just Miz being Miz and being alive," Stan told the twins. "Hell, Ford probably would’ve freaked out at _least_ as bad, if he’d seen what’s chasing after Miz instead." At the confused and startled looks he got from that, Stan realized that he’d never really explained that, and added, "The thing that’s after Miz is half the reason she’s been hanging around the Shack with Bill, right now."

"Okay, but…" Mabel frowned, still confused. "What is Grunkle Ford so afraid of?"

"Bill, mostly. And… other demons that are kind of like Bill." Stan shifted in place slightly. It wasn’t really the best way to put it, but… he didn’t exactly want to give away that _they’d_ overhead the niblings and the demons, and knew that they knew about Miz being a ‘Bill Cipher’. That said, if he brought things up _this_ way... "Ford’s problem is… it’s more like… being afraid of spiders, but realizing that there’s more than one spider anyplace-ever than the only one you ever saw before. Except, uh, worse. Worse than spiders." Stan winced, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Dipper looked down. Oh. So that’s why Stan hadn’t seemed like he’d done anything about what had happened in the woods. There was nothing he could have done, not really. He couldn’t punish them for _existing_. (The only way to do that would be to, what, kill them both? Like trying to step on Bill Ciphers like they were spiders? How were they supposed to do that?) Dipper winced. Even more weirdly, Miz had thought she was supposed to feel bad for it? --She **did** feel bad for it. That made no sense. Dipper groaned and sat down. Why was life so complicated?

Then Dipper realized something and sat up. "Wait, what was the thing chasing Miz?" Because if there had been something chasing Miz that even _she_ was afraid of... Dipper stared at Stan, who sighed.

"Yeah, well, turns out sometime when she was out playin’ with her Doors and junk, she ran into... another Bill Cipher who ain’t so nice as ours is," Stan said with a wince, going for the easiest route for them all to be able to talk about ‘other Bill Ciphers’ being a thing, _without_ having to bring up Miz, or explain how it all came up in the first place. "She ain’t stupid, so she ran the other way. She’s hiding here because that other Bill can’t open her Doors, and the kid double-locked ours against stuff that ain’t her, so..."

Dipper’s eyes were wide. "So, wait. There’s another bad Bill Cipher out there who’s trying to get into _our_ world, too?" he gasped. So did his sister. "And Miz led him _right to us?!_ "

"Well, it can’t get in. But she can’t get back out there, either. Not while it’s roamin’ around and the kid don’t got a solution for taking the fight to _it_ , yet. ...And, y’know, she and the kid did decide they’re siblings, now. So that’s why she’s been staying with him at the Shack with us for awhile." Stan grunted. "Think she said something about the thing maybe getting bored and going away on its own eventually, so even if the kid don’t figure something out right away..." Stan shrugged.

"And how long is _that_ gonna take?!" Dipper gasped. How many Bill Ciphers were they going to have to deal with here?

Stan glanced over at Bill. He actually had a feeling that Bill didn’t want his sister to leave yet, not when they were finally together and the kid had someone to care for and about. To his surprise, Bill looked… almost guilty.

"...Kid?" Stan asked, paying the demon a little more attention now, and Bill didn’t quite wince.

What Bill did do was cross his arms and say, "I’ve been _busy_. ...I would have worked on it sooner, if she didn’t have the emotion waves problem."

Mabel blinked slowly as she figured it out. "You don’t want her to leave…" she trailed off. "You like having her here!" and wasn’t that a surprising thought!

"I’ll fix it!" Bill said. "I’ll help _her_ fix it. --Priorities!" Bill didn’t quite blurt out. " _I’m_ not trapping her here!"

"No one said anythin’ about trapping nobody," Stan said slowly, glancing at Bill.

"--Right, Yes," Bill said quickly, looking away from all of them and hunching his shoulders slightly.

Huh. So, the kid really wanted her to stay but felt… guilty about it. ...Yeah, fair. The kid was trapped for the longest time and didn’t want his kid sister to feel the same way. Stan could see that.

Mabel was grinning though. "You _**do**_ care about her!" she said triumphantly. She’d been right about that!

Bill turned his head towards her and gave her a long, almost-frustrated looking stare. "OF _COURSE_ I care about her, she’s my SISTER!" he told Shooting Star. "What, did you forget how siblings are supposed to work?" Bill asked of her almost sarcastically.

Mabel winced. "... Grunkle Ford said you were just pretending to care…" and now she felt bad for even thinking for a second that that might be true.

"Tch," said Bill, looking away from her again. "He _lies_."

Mabel frowned up at him. (Grunkle Ford hadn't been lying. He really thought that.) "But, if you know what it’s like to care about siblings, then why did you hurt Dipper? Why did you try to kill us?" Mabel asked of Bill accusingly, standing up straight to stare him down.

Bill side-eyed her. "...When are we talking about here?" he asked.

Mabel huffed at him. "Taking over his body during the opera, and chasing us in the Fearamid!"

Bill raised an eyebrow. "I told you, Shooting Star. If I really wanted to kill you right then, I wouldn’t have just chased you. I just would have killed you, not captured you. And I would have killed you together."

(Stan closed his eyes for a moment and tried to keep his breathing level. Right. _Efficiency._ )

"And I didn’t hurt Pine Tree, I just took and used his body," Bill waved off.

"--We found your note!" Mabel said next, and Bill gave her a confused look.

"So?" said Bill. (Stan clenched his jaw and told himself to let the kids do whatever they were tryin’ to do...)

"You were gonna throw his body off the w-water tower!" Mabel shuddered. "You were going to kill him!"

"No, I wasn’t," Bill said, and both Mabel and Dipper looked up at him in disbelief.

"...You wrote a note laughing about how you were going to kill me, and didn’t mean it," Dipper said, completely deadpan.

Bill looked at them for a moment, then seemed to get what they were saying. He grinned and let out a "HA!" while tilting his head back and slapping a hand across his eyes, much to his Zodiac’s confusion. "You _idiots_ ," Bill said, almost sounding amused, as he lowered his hand and looked over them all. "I was going to break Pine Tree’s _body_. I wasn’t going to kill HIM!" He looked over at said ex-puppet. "What, were you not listening when I said ‘like a ghost’, and ‘stuck in the Mindscape FOREVER?’"

Bill threw his arms out to the sides. "And I was gonna tell Shooting Star allllll about it, so that she’d want to do it too -- to make a Deal with me, to be able to see you again!" Bill let out a laugh. "And then you’d both be together anyway. It would’ve been GREAT!" Bill enthused, looking happy at the thought of both of them being stuck together in the Mindscape _with him_ , as both of the kids looked ill by comparison at the thought.

"Yeah, no," said Stan, stepping in, because: "Enough of that." The kid didn't think that, what, killing 'their bodies’ _counted_ as actually killing them?! The hell? Then what did the kid think the agreement was even for? --Stan was stopping this one right here, right now. "--You _ever_ think of doing anything like that again, you talk it out with me _first_ and you let the two of them--" Stan pointed at the kids, "--know _exactly_ what’s going on and what they’d be getting into _before_ **any** of you go off doing _anything_." (Because Stan wasn’t exactly trusting that the kids might not feel forced into a bad decision for Ford’s sake at some point, if it came to that. With the way things were going right now...)

Stan glowered at Bill. "None of this ‘pick a puppet’ malarkey anymore, where somebody’s getting tricked into something else. --I want them being able to make an actual, informed choice!" Because _like hell_ did he ever want **anything** like that ever happening again! And if the kid didn’t _get_ that--

Bill shrugged. "Fine." It was clear that he didn’t see what the problem was, though, for whatever reason. At Stan’s glare he added, "--I’ll tell you first, so you can ‘veto’ it or ‘override’ it or WHATEVER," the kid waved off. "Not like they ask enough of the right questions anyway," Bill muttered, leaning back and staring up at the sky. The sun was setting now as the people along the beach left in droves, trickling away along with the light, and the stars were just starting to become visible.

"Fine." Stan _wasn't_ real happy about any of this. He _wanted_ to toss a hard 'no’ at the kid on this one, but he didn't understand enough about the whole Mindscape versus body thing yet to do that yet without risking Bill thinking that… what, killing them… _completely(??)_ would be a better thing then getting them stuck someplace else 'forever’? (...That wasn't really _forever_ , because the kid himself had gotten out of it somehow, as far as Stan could tell?)

So Stan glared at the kid a bit more, to make sure he got the picture -- how important this really was to him -- and once he was sure the kid actually realized how serious he was about this, he turned and meandered off to go handle the camp stove, for the fish. (The thing and all the utensils that he’d used before all still needed cleaning, for a start.) He sent a long glance the niblings way… but they looked pretty damn determined to see through whatever they were trying to get at the kid about. Hell. (Stan let out a sigh and left them to it. He figured they were probably past the worst of it now, but… the niblings could always use a ‘stop!’ if it got too bad… or he could jump in again.)

Dipper felt Mabel grab for his hand and he wrapped his around her, squeezing to let her know he was there. She was trembling slightly but still standing strong, glaring at Bill. "You… really don’t get it, do you?" Mabel finally said. But at least this cleared up her confusion. Maybe Bill DID know what it was like to love a sibling with the way he treated Miz, but he definitely _didn’t_ understand that not everyone thought the same things were okay or ‘fun’ or ‘funny’ that he did. ...Which, to be fair, they already knew.

At least Miz seemed a little more… ‘normal’-ish in this regard. Mabel blinked. Actually… Mabel realized that maybe that was how she could get through to Bill. Grunkle Stan always explained thing to Bill like, what they would be like if they were a problem for _Bill_ , so maybe… "If someone did the thing you were gonna do to Dipper, to Miz, how would you feel?"

"Mabel!" Dipper hissed.

Bill blinked at her. "Miz is in the Mindscape whenever she’s not in a body." Like him, really. -- _Usually_. (Stupid anchor, keeping him down.) "If someone kills her body, she just makes a new one." It would piss him off if somebody _tried_ to kill her -- but even if they got her body, she’d be okay, and he would just kill them horribly outright, and she would make herself a new body if she wanted to again, and everything would be fine!

Mabel sighed. "But what if she couldn’t? And what if you couldn’t get into the Mindscape to be with her?"

Bill rolled his eyes. He pulled a stone out of his pocket that had a bunch of marking scratched into it, and showed it to them. "This," he said, "Lets me see anything in the Mindscape that I want to be able to see, that could possibly cause me any trouble. I don’t NEED to ‘get into the Mindscape’ to be able to see her," he told them as he pocketed it again. "And she’s died before and… reformed after a thousand years." Bill didn’t really like the idea of not talking to her for a thousand years, but... "She CAN’T DIE for good." Then Bill frowned furiously. "NOT _EASILY_ ," he added, slowly turning his head to look over at Stan, who tried not to wince as that carried over. (Guess that answered his question of whether Bill had gotten through ‘reviewing’ the part about the Zodiac being her permanent ‘out’...)

Dipper’s hands twitched; he really wanted to check out that magic rock but held himself back. He placed a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. "I don’t think he gets it." Heck, Bill hadn’t even brought that up before, when he’d been talking about tricking Mabel into the Mindscape. (If Bill had offered to let Mabel see Dipper again, it could have been with that stone instead, not getting her stuck there, too! --But then, that probably wouldn’t have been what Bill would have wanted, right? To only have one of them stuck there?)

Dipper glared at Bill. "He probably _can’t_ get it," Dipper said challengingly (on purpose).

"Get _what?_ " Bill said. "I can understand _anything_ better than YOU can."

"That, even if Dipper and I would have been together in the Mindscape later, I still would have thought he was dead for a while. And that would have felt really, really awful," Mabel said quietly, wanting so much for Bill to just… understand. Maybe if he _could_ , he’d be able to be a better person! …and …wasn’t that what the problem was? Bill just… didn’t have any empathy for any of them. (Maybe that was why Miz was nicer -- because _she_ could understand? Because Miz had… had to feel what other people felt, all the time?)

Bill shifted in place slightly, eyes flicking to the side. "You’d just think he was dead because you were being stupid," Bill told her. "You talked to him with the sock puppet. He wasn’t in his body then. He _told_ you that." (Bill had looked back at things later, to know that, having wanted to See everything that he might have missed while he'd been busy down in Pine Tree's body.)

"Well maybe I AM stupid! But I’d still FEEL sad!" Mabel cried out.

Dipper winced. (So did Stan, who also clenched his jaw.) "You’re not stupid, Mabel…" Dipper said quietly.

"Well HE wouldn’t be DEAD!" Bill yelled back at her. "And you’d see HIM again after A DAY!" (That had Stan wincing again where he was sitting. The kids had no idea what kind of a nerve they’d just hit. But maybe that meant that they were actually getting through to him. If they had Bill thinking of his own brother, here...)

"And that makes it OKAY?!" Mabel yelled back. "Making me think and FEEL like my brother was DEAD?!" She wiped at her eyes. "It would still HURT!"

Bill gritted his teeth. "So, what," Bill said, "I could tell you BEFORE I did it, and you still wouldn’t believe me?!" Bill glared at her. "You could have Pine Tree in his sock puppet TALKING through it to you -- as you were, what, racing for that water tower, trying to stop me from jumping his body off of it -- and KNOW he was ACTUALLY right there next to you, _right then_ , and you’d STILL feel ‘hurt’ because you thought he was dead?! --That’s on YOU," Bill told her. "So you hurt YOURSELF because you can’t _wait_ a little while for _EXACTLY_ the thing that YOU want. _Boo hoo~_ ," Bill said in sing-song tones of almost thorough disgust. "-- _HE WOULDN’T BE DEAD_ ," Bill sneered out at her.

"It’s not the same! My body… Mabel’s-- _our_ bodies… We’re not _like_ you, you crazy dorito chip! We can’t just-- I’m not okay with--" Dipper shook in place, fists clenched at his sides. "I **wasn’t** _okay with_ losing my body like that! --And neither is Mabel!!" Dipper said angrily, knowing what he was talking about.

"YOU THINK I WANTED TO LOSE MINE?!?" Bill screamed out at him, looking thoroughly irate.

Dipper startled, and the rest of them froze.

Bill’s breathing was off. His fists were clenched at his sides, too.

And the longer they all watched him, the more clear it was that Bill was struggling to try to control himself and calm down. And that maybe he hadn’t meant to yell that out at all of them at all.

Mabel’s eyes were wide. "Oh..." she said quietly.

"Bill, walk it off," Stan said authoritatively. "Okay? Just turn around, and walk it off." Bill didn’t move a muscle. Hell. "--Kids, I’m calling a stop, here. Understand?" Stan ended on, because he couldn’t see things getting any better from here if they asked the kid any more questions.

To the last, Bill simply snarled and (finally) stalked off to the other side of the deck, on the complete opposite side of the ship from the rest of them, not looking at any of them as he went.

Mabel pulled at her sweater, then grabbed Dipper’s hand and pulled him across the deck and over to sit down next to Grunkle Stan. She could _really_ use some grunkle hugs just then.

"I’m… pretty sure he wasn’t lying about that," Mabel said quietly, as she snuggled up against his side, and Stan stopped what he was doing to gather her up in a hug. "...Right, Grunkle Stan?" she added, when he didn’t say anything right away. Stan let out a sigh and grimaced. Mabel reached out for Dipper, and tugged at his arm, wanting him to come a little closer in, too, to get his own hug. But Dipper was busy staring at Bill’s back, mind racing through theories and snippets of information and all the questions that he really wanted to write down and-- darnit, why didn’t he bring his journal?!

They all looked over as they heard the hatch pop open, and Miz poked her head out.

"--Found it!" she said happily, waving the boning knife around above her head, before hopping back out onto the deck. Then she stopped, looked around, and read the mood -- she couldn’t feel it but she could still SEE it on everyone’s faces. She let out an unhappy, "Ah…" Quick! Think of a distraction! "Do you two wanna watch an Anime with me while Stan prepares the fish?" she asked the twins awkwardly.

Dipper and Mabel both glanced at each other.

"Kid’s gonna help me prepare the fish," Stan said, waving Miz over, to take the knife from her. "Maybe you two wanna go watch this thing below deck for a bit?"

The twins nodded. It would get them away from Bill, give him time to cool down… and give her and Dip-Dop time to hug some things out and feel better themselves. (...And, well, Mabel didn’t mind hanging out with Miz, to help keep Miz from hurting Grunkle Ford. She was sort of nice most of the time, for a Bill Cipher, even if she was a little strange; she was definitely nicer than their own Bill, most of the time!) The kids all filed back down below deck. Mabel asked Miz what anime they were gonna watch as they started moving down the ladder, while Dipper kept sneaking glances at Bill until he couldn't see him anymore.

Miz’s voice echoed up from below. "Well, since you two don’t like violence and stuff, I can choose one that’s cute and peaceful? There’s some sad stuff, but there’s this one show that’s about how to feel better if you’re sad, and why having people who love and support you is important…"

Mabel managed a smile as she descended. "That sounds nice. What’s it called?"

"It’s called Fruits Basket, I watched it back when I was a kid and it helped me feel better during my angsty phase…"

Their voices cut off when the hatch closed.

Stan sighed and got back to his feet, to walk over and check out the fish. ...Huh, Miz had cleaned off all the scales and stuff already. That was gonna make the whole thing a lot easier.

"Kid," Stan called out. No answer. "Bill." Still no answer, and the kid wasn’t moving. "What, you giving up on the gamble already?" Stan told him. "I want your help with something."

...Well, that got him half a head-turn. Guess that was something.

"Come on over here, yeah?" Stan said, and the kid looked away from him again, but finally pushed himself off of the balcony and not quite stomped his way over.

"Sit down next to me, will ya?" Stan said. Bill sat. Stan let out a sigh.

...Ugh, this was actually kind of freaky, talkin’ to the kid almost like normal, not having to watch what he said in case it came out sounding like a ‘command’ or something.

"Look," Stan said, "You don’t want to talk about things from way back when?" like your brother, or losing your body, hell, "You don’t have to. I ain’t gonna force you to." No response. Stan grimaced. "Kinda why I asked Miz instead, okay? I knew you didn’t want to." Kid looked away from him. "I didn’t want to push ya," Stan told him. "But some stuff? Kept comin’ up." Like just now with the kids, hell. And what would have happened if the kids had asked another question after that? Or if he had? "I kind of needed to--"

"--No, you didn’t," the kid said. Stan watched Bill pull in another breath then let it out again. "...Not yet," Bill said quietly.

Stan eyed him carefully. "You want to tell me the _reason_ why you didn’t want to tell me ‘yet’, at least?" Stan asked of the kid, as he pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping down the knife that Miz had retrieved for him. Bill sat there for awhile, but Stan knew that particular set of the kid’s shoulders. So Stan waited, and he waited the kid out, because the next thing Bill said was, "I don’t want anyone trying to stop me."

Stan blinked. And it took him a moment.

And then he damn near dropped the knife.

Shit. Stan forced himself to pull in a breath. "Kid…" he began slowly. "...Ford don’t think you ever had a brother, right?" The kid didn’t immediately go for his throat, so Stan kept going, slow and careful. Very, _very_ careful. "So, right now… Ford don’t think there’s anything to stop." Stan swallowed hard. "So… it ain’t as bad as it could be. Is it." ...Because Ford didn’t believe him. "Because if Ford actually starts believing you…"

"--Why don’t we just _let_ the idiot continue to think that I’m evil incarnate without a soul and with nothing and no-one that I’ve ever cared about, hmm?" Bill said lightly, and holy hell, it was official. The only reason Bill Cipher hadn’t killed Stan’s brother on the spot was because Ford hadn’t outright said that he was going to try to stop Bill from bringing his brother back. _Shit._

"Don’t think you have to worry about that one," Stan said roughly. "Pretty sure he’s never gonna believe otherwise," and _that_ was what got him an amused and almost delighted laugh out of the demon? _Hell._

Stan let out a breath and set both the knife and the handkerchief down. Well, at least they could move past _that_ , now.

"Y’know," Stan said, knowing he was pushing it. "You _can_ talk about that junk with me if you want to." Putting it that way meant something different to the kid, and he figured he wanted his bases covered, just in case.

From the slow turn of head and long, odd look he got from the kid for that one, he knew the kid had finally connected that one to ‘not, not-wanting him to talk.’ (The ‘don’t have to’s, for some reason, the kid always saw as _almost_ an explicit ‘I don’t want you to’ and sometimes an implicit ‘I’m really not gonna force you to’ -- not a ‘you don’t have to, but I’ll listen if you do’. The kid always needed to hear it both ways.)

The kid turned his head away from him again.

"Do you want to talk about it with me right now?" Stan said, testing the waters again.

"No," said the kid, still not looking at him. ...But then he also said, "Not right now."

Okay. So, not a hard ‘no’. Stan got it. "I hear ya." Stan let out another sigh as he looked down at the fish. "This thing actually dead yet?" Stan asked of the triangle kid, pointing to the fish. The kid nodded his head. (The fish had suffocated when the paralysis it’d been under caused its heart to stop, and the spell hadn’t been removed soon enough.)

Stan looked the fish over, frowning. ...And then he got an idea. (Because yeah, he'd told the kids he'd have Bill help him with the fish before as an excuse for the kid to stay up on deck here with him, but…)

He turned to the kid. "Hey," he said. "You know how people grill stuff like fish, right?" Bill seemed to hesitate, almost pause in place for a moment, then turned his head towards him and nodded. "With steaks about this big?" Stan sketched out the size of a good fish steak in mid-air. Bill tilted his head slightly. "How would _you_ handle getting this thing from, y’know, like this, into being a bunch of fish steaks?" he asked the kid.

"Magic," the kid said, and Stan let out a sigh. "Okay, but how? --I mean, don’t do it yet," Stan said. "Just… there any way you can show me, or something, _before_ you do it? Like… maybe those pictures or video or whatever that Miz tossed up on the ceiling in the attic?" Kid liked doing magic, right? And it usually tired him out a little, and since being tired usually forced the kid to calm down and go a little 'lower energy’...

Bill seemed to consider this. "I can do better than that," Bill said, and the kid turned towards the fish and… stopped moving briefly, for a moment of stillness.

Then Bill murmured something and the space in front of them almost exploded with light for a second. Stan blinked, and then he thought he was seeing double for a second, before he realized that it was like looking at stuff, but also a sort of see-through ghostly thing, at the same time.

He saw the ‘ghostly’-fish (okay, not the actual fish, got it) seem to be raised up into the air, and a blanket off to the side -- the one Miz and the kid had slept on the night before -- also gained a ghostly copy that was pulled over underneath it. "Preparation," the kid said, as things seemed to move into place. "Cleaning spellwork," he said, and the ‘blanket’ and ‘fish’ seemed to flash for a moment. "Bone removal spell," Bill added, and the ‘fish’ seemed to almost burst open as white ‘shards’ flew out of it. "Skin and flesh removal spell," Bill said next, and the same kind of thing happened to the ‘skin’ -- it just seemed to roll off of the outer ‘meat’ in ribbons, to lie in curls underneath in a second section of the ‘blanket’, Stan realized; the first half of it was where all the ‘bone shards’ were lying.

After the skin of the ‘ghostly’-fish was gone, the ‘meat’ seemed to grow lines, then start falling off of the ‘fish’ in chunks, to seem to be caught and float down slowly, to settle on another part of the ‘blanket’. "Offal removal spell," Bill said, and the whole rest of the thing -- the leftover ‘guts’ and ‘head’ -- went up in blue flames. The see-through ash that slowly fell from it like snow drifted over into the final free corner of the ‘blanket’.

Stan stared at all of this. He thought about what he'd just seen happen here.

"...You think of this all on the spot?" he asked of the kid. He got a shake of the head. "You seen somebody else do something like this before?" A nod. (Stan carefully kept his reaction down to a simple...) "Huh."

Stan pulled in a slow breath, and then considered this all, what the kid had just shown him, a little differently. "This gonna tire you out if you do it instead of just showing me?" he asked the kid. (He didn't want the kid so tired that he got cranky on him and needed to sleep; he just wanted to give the kid something to work off a little of that mad energy.)

"Showing you was more ‘tiring’ than just doing it," was what the kid told him, and Stan let out a breath.

"You gonna eat any of this if we make it?" Bill shook his head ‘no’. "You mind doin’ it anyway?" That got him a look from the kid.

"...Was that a question?" Bill asked him.

"Yeah, kid," Stan said. (What, had the kid thought he'd just start demanding stuff out of him for no reason all of a sudden, just because the kid had said he'd help him out for awhile, for this gamble thing? He had no reason to treat the kid any differently right now than he had been already, overall. Wasn't like the kid hadn't been doing stuff for him before, exactly. Actually trying to follow the agreement _properly_ , and getting better at it as Stan taught him better about things, was definitely something Stan considered a hell of a lot more than just ‘helpful’, right then. Besides...) "Not like you’d be getting much out of doing it yourself." Bill seemed to consider this.

"...You’ll cook it, and Miz will eat it," Bill said, almost a question.

"Yeah, all of us will, whoever wants any. That’s the plan," Stan told him. "That good enough for you?" Bill nodded. "Go ahead, then," Stan said, and leaned back as he watched Bill wave away the ghostly-images of whatever, and actually do the magic thing.

The magic thing took less than two seconds, start to finish. Stan almost couldn’t follow it.

Stan stared. The kid had… actually _slowed it down_ for him, when he’d been showing it off? He glanced over at Bill, who was tensing and relaxing his arms a bit, rolling his shoulders. The kid wasn’t breathing too heavily, or sweating or nothing.

"You gonna tell me when you start hitting your limits?" Stan told the kid, and Bill glanced over at him.

"...Do you want me to?" was what the kid said, almost curious, and Stan rubbed his hand across his face.

"-- _Yes_ , Bill," Stan told the kid, as he slowly stood up, and the kid looked up at him, "I want you to tell me any time you start to get tired, or if I ask you to do anything that’s gonna make you tired. Yeah?"

The kid looked away from him, down at the deck. And then he nodded.

"Okay, good," Stan said. And then Stan did his usual, "Thanks, kid," and put a hand on the kid’s head, patting it, before pulling away to turn around and go get a clean pot lid from one of the crates, to put a couple of the steaks on for soon-to-be-grilling on the camp stove.

He missed Bill’s look of complete and utter surprise.

\----

Mabel and Miz were holding each other as they cried. Dipper stared. This show was… actually really pleasant. There was plenty of sad things but the girls were happy-crying as the main character told one of the male leads that she believed everyone had their own kindness inside, even if they couldn’t see it for themselves. Dipper glanced over at his sister who was sobbing. "Yes! You’re not a bad person, Yuki! You just show it differently!"

Dipper looked back up at the screen the anime episode was playing on. "This show’s almost saccharine-sweet," he muttered. Onscreen, the boy (Yuki) gave the main character a true, happy smile. Nothing like the fake polite smiles he’d shown before this point. Dipper thought it was cheesy, how the show addressed the topics in such simple, straightforward ways...

…but it _was_ all about learning to love yourself by finding the good parts of yourself that were worth loving. Miz definitely hadn’t lied about what the show was all about.

"Do they end up together?" Mabel asked Miz, already shipping the guy and girl. "But, oh, Kyo likes her too right?" which made Dipper groan. Love triangles. Ugh. Why did girls like this sort of thing?

"You don’t mind spoilers?" Miz asked. Mabel shook her head. "Tohru ends up with Kyo in the end."

Mabel gasped: "But what about Yuki?"

Dipper rolled his eyes, while Miz patted Mabel’s shoulder and told her, "Don’t worry. The anime ended before it got to that point, but in the manga -- um, the japanese comics! -- he meets a nice girl who manages to win his heart."

"I’m so bored…" Dipper groaned, knocking his head against the floorboards slightly. The gimmick of the characters turning into animals was kind of interesting, but there was _no_ plot progression! Not that Dipper could see. It seemed to be nothing but a bunch of ‘slice of life’ moments, with the characters talking about their feelings.

A thump came from the hatch above them. Miz sat up and paused the anime. "I guess Dinner/Brunch is ready?" She stretched, groaning as her joints popped before she started climbing up the ladder. The twins glanced at each other. Well, hopefully Grunkle Stan had talked to Bill and he was feeling ‘better’… or at least less-murdery. (It wasn’t the first time they’d seen Grunkle Stan have to basically drag Bill off and distract him and… do _whatever_ he did, until they saw the two of them next. And Bill had pretty much always seemed calmer at the next meal. This was the first time _they’d_ been the ones to leave the ‘room’ instead of Bill, though.)

They all got up and the twins climbed up slowly after Miz, blinking at the savory smell of the grilled fish. Miz was over at Grunkle Stan’’s side in a flash, nibbling on a large fish steak within seconds.

"Mmm~ ish sho good~" Miz leaned over to nuzzle against Bill’s side. "Thanks big brother."

"I didn’t do much," Bill said, between bites of cracker from his previously-claimed cracker box from the last meal. (It usually took at least three or four meals for Bill to finish off a full box. He still wasn’t eating all that much.)

"Nah, don’t let him get away with that, Miz. Kid helped out a lot." Stan told her with a smug grin. The kid raised his shoulders slightly and looked away.

"Didn’t," Bill muttered.

Miz raised an eyebrow. "You’re not being Tsun-Tsun right now, are you?" she teased lightly.

"Eh?" Bill said, looking down at his sister, startled. It took him a moment. "--No!"

Mabel, knowing the term, snorted and muffled her laugh behind a sleeve.

"It wasn’t _hard_ ," Bill said. "I didn’t do anything by hand." He shoved another cracker into his mouth.

"You don’t have to do something difficult, for me to appreciate it." Miz leaned against his side, relaxed and content. "The fact that you did it makes me happy."

"Nnm?" went Bill, blinking and feeling a little confused, but he wasn’t going to contradict his little sister, if she was feeling happy because of something he did. (He wasn’t about to make her feel _less_ happy for no good reason; that would be stupid.)

Stan stared at Miz. Was she… Hot Belgium waffles! She was! Stan had to turn away from her to hide his grin. --Looks like he had a helper on the ‘positive reinforcement’ stuff. Huh. (Stan took it back: suggesting the little sister thing had _definitely_ been one of his better ideas to do with the kid.)

"Figure we’ll finish eating here, then get the rest put away for later in a cooler or something, and then bring Ford something to eat, too," Stan told them all. "Maybe bring some of the bedrolls and other stuff with." He glanced over at Bill. "You got any ideas for that, kid?"

Bill eyed him. "...What are you trying to do?" Bill asked neutrally.

"Pretty simple," Stan said, looking down and grabbing another bite of fish with his fork. "I figure Ford’s got some rooftop from one of the places on one of the nearby streets all picked out, for sitting and watching the house." Stan sighed. "Figure we’ll go and pay him a little visit, maybe spend the night over there with him." He looked over at Bill. "Ideas, kid?" Stan repeated, just to be clear.

Bill mulled over this. "Food supplies need to be handled, you want to bring some to that Stanford because you don’t know if he’s eaten, and you want the bedrolls because… you think we’ll be there long enough that Pine Tree and Shooting Star will fall asleep." He looked up at Stanley. "It will get colder than that." He looked off to the side. "Temperature control spell, stasis spell for the food, invisibility spell that no-one else including the younger local versions of you can see through…" Bill paused. "More blankets and pillows?" Bill said, looking down to Miz.

"I can help. I’ve done plenty of spells for that when I go out to play with my friends on planets with a harsh environment." Miz assured them all.

"Pillows and blankets from the sand castle?" Bill asked. "Won’t have to expend more energy. I can do the other spells more efficiently," Bill said. "It’ll keep you from feeling so hungry, using that much energy, and needing to eat so much." Bill was fairly sure that Miz didn’t consider the sensation of hunger itself to be a ‘pleasant’ one. He was pretty sure that she only enjoyed the sensation of _satiating_ that hunger.

"Okay. I’ve got plenty of bedding in there," Miz nodded.

"You have wood planks that haven’t been used below, yes?" Bill asked of Stanley, as he finished up with his crackers and closed the box. Stanley nodded. "I can take pieces of those for carving the etchings into?" Stanley gave him a nod and waved him towards the hatch. Bill let off a soft ‘rrah!’ noise, as he yanked it open and went down the ladder.

"...He’s using more spells," Dipper noted of Bill.

"Yeah, well, the kid finds them easier than doin’ stuff by hand," Grunkle Stan told him. "And he said he was helping with ‘anything’ for me, for this ‘game’ thing, so…" Dipper gave him a skeptical look.

"It’s faster," Miz mumbled through the fish steak she was chewing on.

Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other, and it took both Dipper and Mabel a moment. "Wait..." said Mabel, looking over at her brother.

"He’s just… doing stuff you _tell_ him to do? _Seriously?_ " Dipper asked, staring. They both knew how touchy Bill got when he thought he was being ordered around (let alone _actually_ ordered around…. which only Great-Uncle Ford seemed to think he could do), not that Bill ever went along with any of it, no matter who tried to do it.

Stan shrugged. "That was part of the terms of this ‘not-a-game’ game-thing, remember?" At the look the kids gave him, Stan sighed (almost a chuckle) and added, "Look. I ain’t asking him to do anything he’s not okay with. I ask him if he’s okay with it, first. I ain’t actually _ordering_ him around."

Both the niblings let out a sigh of relief, Dipper more than his sister. (He knew what Grunkle Stan could be like when he was giving out unreasonable orders.) "--Dipper, I’m pretty sure the kid knows how to stick up for and think for himself," Grunkle Stan said, with no small amusement. "It’s trustin’ other people that’s the problem for him."

"...Right," Dipper said, sharing a glance with his sister.

Miz was on her third fish steak. "Fish is soooo goood~" she practically purred.

Stan let out a laugh. "Yeah," Stan agreed. "It kinda is, huh?"

Miz nodded. "My human dad cooked a lot of fish. He also made a lot of raw fish. He was a sushi chef… made the most beautiful looking things…" She looked a little nostalgic.

"Huh," said Stan. "The raw fish stuff? --Not really _my_ thing, but hey, we’ve got plenty leftover if you want to do whatever with it," Stan told her.

Miz grinned. "I could try that."

Bill pushed the hatch up and came up with three bedrolls and a small cooler in-tow, inside a wooden crate. He floated the crate to the deck.

"Stanley, I--" the kid began, then stopped, and Stan’s head came up immediately. Stan recognized that one.

"What do you want, kid?" Stan hadn’t thought they’d backslid. What was up there?

Bill looked a little… frustrated-thinky for a bit, before he said, "There’s a better way to move things than me floating them."

"What’s the better way?" Stan said.

Bill made eye contact with him, then said, "My hat."

"Your hat?" Stan repeated, then gave the kid a long considering look. "Thought you didn’t know where that was."

"I don’t," the kid agreed. "But I could find it."

"...And?" Stan said. Sure, the kid had wanted to know where it was. The kid had complained about it _incessantly_ , almost like clockwork daily. (Apparently, the kid had a lot of stuff stored in it that he was missing and _really_ wanted back. ...Also, accessorizing was a Thing with the kid, with a _very_ capital T.) But what was knowing that gonna do for the kid?

"And pull it here," Bill said next. "It’s _my hat_."

Okay. That was a thing. Stan thought about this. "...There a reason you didn’t try and pull this before?" he asked the kid.

"The spell I want to use is easier when the thing you want is in another dimension," is what the kid told him, which made no sense to Stan, but whatever. He gave the kid a long look, though, because ‘easier’ didn’t mean the kid couldn’t have pulled it off before. "And that Stanford isn’t nearby," Bill said. "So I can grab it and he won’t know unless you tell him."

"...You’re really sure my brother stole your hat and is being petty about it," Stan said.

"YES," said Bill, and Stan let out a sigh. Kid had never really let up on that one, and he almost looked like he was standing on an anthill right now.

"Fine," Stan said. "Go ahead and do your thing."

Bill perked up immediately, grinning, and ran off to the other end of the deck, to quickly turn around and sit down cross-legged. Then the kid closed his eyes, to… do whatever he was gonna do, Stan guessed.

Miz walked over to sit down in front of him and watch him closely, eager to learn how Blue did stuff. Stan walked over too, but stayed standing. The twins settled down to watch as well, though they were more wary about it.

Bill sat there, slowly building up the spell inside his head. It was a bit complicated -- if he ran into issues, he’d rather have the spell fail safely than rebound halfway through and send his hat who-knew-where, potentially _DAMAGING_ it. He tried to add in a few things that should work as workarounds for anything stupid that Stanford might have tried to pull -- miniature wormholes and similar more ‘scientific’ effects that a magical or mystical barrier wouldn’t stop -- that would automatically try to move into position, depending on the parameters the remote-sensing parts of the spell would handle for him.

It was a bit step-by-step, but... in sequence, the spell as a whole would: create temporary ‘listening’ posts to zero in on (read: triangulate, HA!) the position of his hat -- which almost certainly HAD to be in the dimension they’d just come from -- then feed that information into the second part of the spell that would, in rapid, succession, try several different methods to retrieve it -- with ‘sensing’ portions attached to each of those, too, and a few sorts of ‘test retrievals’ that would go off first, so that the _spell itself_ would select the path of least-resistance to send it to him.

Bill got it all set up, added the keywords he wanted to each mentally-held-in-place mandala image spell-matrix that was being imagined up inside his own mind... and then Bill started murmuring them off, one layer-set at a time -- bringing each to the forefront and letting it _go_ with each word.

Miz stared at the way energy around Bill twisted. All the inputs and outputs stringing together into a long string of robust and rather simple effects. It really was a lot like programming, but without the numbers being actual numbers, more like the _idea_ of numbers. Which, paradoxically, made it easier for her to understand.

Bill let the final set-piece go, and then held out his hands, waiting. He didn’t really care _WHERE_ that Stanford had been holding it, so long as he--

...a small piece of cloth fell into his hands.

Bill blinked, then stared down at it.

Bill muttered a half-interrogative in his clicking-chirping native tongue, and held it up. Then his eyes widened in utter disbelief.

Bill was holding an eyepatch from the end of one of two long pieces of string.

Miz winced. "Um…"

Bill started twitching in place.

And then Bill let out a string of very profane curses in Galactic Standard, as he pulled it towards his chest and looked it over, staring at it in utter disbelief.

Miz stared. Oh, she was DEFINITELY learning a few of these.

"---stupid JH’AkEkrll+$#-ian frilly know-it-all NOT EVEN FUNNY _LIZARD!!!_ " Bill screamed out at the end of it, as both Stan’s eyebrows went up.

"...he turned your hat into an eyepatch…" Miz tried to hide her mouth twitching. 

" _NOT FUNNY!!!_ " Bill shrieked out, as he made a twisting-tearing motion at the cloth, and the universe _really_ didn’t like that, but--

The eyepatch twisted up, and the universe more or less _barfed_ it back as a two-dimensional very flat-looking top hat.

"HATE IT. HATE-HATE-HATE." Bill growled out. He looked up at the sky, as he ‘jammed’ his hat down on top of his head. " _ **NOT! FUNNY!!!**_ "

Miz tilted her head. "I didn’t realize Ax had a sense of humor…"

" _IT DOESN’T!_ " Bill shrieked out angrily. "BECAUSE IT’S STUPID!"

Stan considered this.

"...That was the eyepatch you were wearing out on the porch, wasn’t it," Stan said, and Bill hiss-growled a bit at this, with a distorted ugly chittering-chatter underlying the sound of it.

Bill practically dug his fingers into his legs and shook with rage. His hat floated just an inch or so above his head.

"Gonna just… give you a minute, yeah?" Stan said easily, slowly pushing himself up and waving the kids off. "C’mon, let’s give him a minute," Stan added, leaving the triangle some space to fume in relative peace.

\----

After Bill was finished ‘moping’ (not that Stan would ever call it that out loud where the kid could hear him), they gathered up all the supplies they would need (Miz crawled inside her sand castle -- under Bill's watchful "supervision" -- and brought out multiple pillows, blankets and even some bean bag chairs), and they prepared to track down Stan’s idiot brother.

"I am wearing it," Bill had announced, as he'd finally got up from where he’d been sitting (read: _moping_ ) and stomped over to the crate he’d grabbed from belowdecks earlier. "It is mine, that Stanford didn’t have it, I don’t have to hide it, I am _wearing_ it," the kid had said authoritatively, as he'd all but ripped it off of his own head (out of position, where it had been floating), made a sort of flicking motion (which had the hat making an odd ‘floof!’ing sort of noise as it expanded out to a three-dimensional… regular-looking tophat?)... and then, somehow, the kid had jammed his tophat over the crate top-to-bottom in a motion that had looked almost like it had come out of a cartoon.

And, somehow, this had worked, because before this, there had been a crate sitting there, and after this, the crate was no longer there, and the hat had been sitting there in the space on top of the deck where the crate had once been.

Bill had then picked up his hat and jammed it down on top of his head again (in a motion that stopped right where the hat stayed floating), let out a breath in a huff, and turned to the rest of them to (angrily) ask, "ANY QUESTIONS?"

Stan had wanted to laugh. (He'd managed not to, sure, but it had been a close thing.)

Instead, Stan had tossed a thumb back Miz’s way and said, "Blankets?"

Miz had gotten excited about being able to use her castle for something, practically diving inside it to Bill's chittering half-dismay, and a hell of a lot of blankets, pillows, and bean bag chairs had all ended up in the hat shortly thereafter.

"How are you _doing_ that?" Dipper couldn’t help but ask Bill, as he finished up shoving the last of the pillows from Miz into the interior of his hat.

"I have a wormhole under my hat," Bill said tersely, as he jammed it back into position again above his head (post-supplies-add), without even looking at him.

"Why?" Mabel asked.

"It’s useful," Bill said next.

"But… couldn’t you make it a magical place full of rooms like Miz’s sand castle?" Mabel asked next.

_That_ had Bill glancing over at her. "It’s not a pocket dimension of space," Bill told her. "I own the entire dimension that this is connected to." ( _‘Own the entire dimension?’_ Dipper worried. Because… what did that even _mean?_ ) Bill stretched slightly in place, hands over his head, fingers intertwined. "I can move around the endpoint, but right now it’s connected to a zero-g space that’s effectively a bubble of static, dead time. Which reminds me--" Bill walked over to the fish and the camp stove "grill", and scooped all that up, too.

"That sounds useful." Miz was making mental notes. "And since it’s time stopped, food doesn’t go bad while it’s in there." She had a Stasis-type effect on her pantry at home but hadn’t thought of doing something like actually stopping time on a whole area, hers simply prevented progression of time to prevent things such as oxidation or bacterial growth.

"Yes," Bill said for Miz’s benefit. "It’s basically a natural stasis spell. Might piss off your Time Baby, though," he noted. "Might want to stick with doing it in dimensions only you own, on a small scale. ...At least until you figure out how to mask it," Bill told her.

Miz nodded. "Ok, big brother."

"Right. Well. --Let’s go find Grunkle Ford!" Mabel raised her fist into the air with a determined look on her face.

Bill grimaced. "Yes," he said. "Let’s go find your vagabond dimension-hopping- _again_ idiot." At the look Stan gave him, Bill complained, "--What? I would’ve been _happy_ to let him stay behind! He _hates_ \--" Bill stopped himself, closing his mouth on whatever he had been about to say next.

Stan looked around the mostly-empty deck at them all, then let out a long sigh. "Yeah, okay. Let’s go."

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Er... for the people waiting on the crossover with BlueFrosty's fic... it's gonna take a while >.>  
> Jo and I had too much fun writing, so... yeah....
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  *pfft* (--Understatement of the century there, Miz! :)


	8. Chapter 77: Ask me anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Ford is suspicious  
> Miz tries not to be bored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 87 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/43381469). It was first posted on Apr 8, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\----

Ford was determined. He had a mission. An important mission that he couldn’t afford (he tried not to twitch at the ‘HA! a-Ford!’ pun that he was sure Bill would have made if he were here) to fail. He’d managed to outrun those rude cops (again) who’d tried to confiscate his guns ( _again_ ), yelling something about gun control laws that he really found rather rude (wasn't it okay to give children weaponry in this dimension? so why not adults?), and once he'd lost them (again), he'd made his way to this rooftop. And now he was watching the pawnshop like a hawk. A solemn vigil in the night for the sake of protecting the future of the boy within.

He was dedicated. He was vigilant. He was…

...bored as shit.

Ford muffled a yawn as he crouched on the roof. His legs were cramping up and he’d been here for _hours_ and nothing was happening. The younger version of him and Stan had rushed back earlier while clutching… paper of a sort that was usually found around ice cream cones(?), and neither of them had left the house since. He shifted his weight, groaning as his legs creaked. Stakeout was so… boring.

But he wasn’t going to leave, of course! He had to keep his eye on the house, stop the young Stan from ruining his life-- … the younger him’s life. It was a noble goal. If Ford stopped young Stan from breaking his project in a ~~selfish~~ impulsive act of ~~jealousy~~ teenage emotion, they would both be fine.

~~And the niblings as they would exist here might never be born.~~

\-- _All_ of them would be fine. Stan didn't have a crystal ball to the future; he didn’t know that these versions of themselves wouldn't take care of their younger brother. And Ford could perhaps… leave them a note…? Yes, he could leave the young Stan or Ford a note to take care of Shermie once he was older and… and…

Yes. That would be enough. Surely, that would be enough.

He wouldn’t waver. He would ensure that at LEAST in this dimension, the younger version of himself wouldn’t go down the same terrible path of mediocrity ~~and--~~. He would _fix_ it.

"An old man with guns spying on two teenage boys. Now doesn’t that seem like something that should be stopped?" a high-pitched voice drawled out behind him in a deadpan. Ford twitched and swung around, hand already shooting towards his gun before he saw Miz standing behind him on the roof (along with Stan, the niblings, and…)

"--What are you doing there, Bill?" Ford growled out, because the demon had the gall to ignore him! It had been Miz who had said that, while Bill wasn't even looking at him! Instead, the triangle demon was crouching down and pulling stuff out of… _his hat?!_

Ford stared. "--How did you get that back?" Ford demanded of Bill next. (And where had it been? Had that demon been lying about having it up until now? --He'd accused Ford of taking it for _weeks!_ ) But Bill continued to ignore him, which just served to aggravate him even further. How dare Bill ignore him like… like…

… like Bill didn’t care about him. Like he didn’t think Ford was worth his attention. ~~_Like he was **nothing**._~~ (And it was that point that Ford’s stomach seemed to drop out from under him. ~~_\--No. No. Stay strong. Don't--_~~ ) Ford tensed in place and forcibly suppressed the cold chill that ran through him at the thought.

"Right, well, just… straight to Bill again, are you _sure_ you two aren’t an ex-couple going through a really bad break up?" Miz asked with an annoyed look.

Ford turned to her and sputtered, "No! _Stop saying that!_ " He'd never done any such thing! They weren't a couple! And Bill had _never_ been his friend!

"Then stop acting like it! You’re obsessed with him to the point that it’s unhealthy." Miz rolled her eyes. (Ford nearly told the demon off -- he wasn’t _obsessed_ , he was being _watchful!_ Bill was a _threat!_ A clear and present danger!!) "I’m not even trying to make fun of you now. You’re worrying the kids." Miz thumbed her hand back towards the twins behind him.

Ford finally glanced over at them and then stopped as the two shuffled their feet; they both looked slightly… ill? Dipper was pulling his hat down. "Can you _please_ stop calling them a couple?" Dipper complained at Miz.

"He constantly wants Bill's attention, wants to know where Bill is, what he’s doing, who he’s talking to…" Miz listed off. "Like some clingy, overbearing, possessive boyfriend…"

Ford bristled at the implication -- because, if anything, _Bill_ was the one who had refused to just _leave him alone_ and--!

"Stop, please!" Mabel said quickly to Miz (which was how Ford knew it _had_ to be far worse than it had sounded even to him -- Mabel was usually the first on board for any potential romance, no matter who it involved), and (thankfully) Miz ( _finally!!_ ) shut her mouth.

Stanley ( _the traitor_ ) was holding his expression in that perfectly calm set that made it clear he was doing everything in his power to hold back laughter -- which Ford did _not_ appreciate in the least, because the current situation they were in was _hardly_ amusing!

Meanwhile, Bill was quietly pulling out bedding and food from his hat. They soon had a cozy little campsite set up on this roof top, and Ford’s stomach growled at the smell of freshly grilled fish.

Stan narrowed his eyes. "Eat. Now." He pulled Ford over to sit near the (still hot) grill. When Ford opened his mouth to protest, Stan grunted out, " _I_ cooked it; it’s fine. And we’ve all eaten it. --It’s _fine_." He stared at Ford until the man ate the fish.

Ford was glaring at Bill the whole time he ate, as Bill set up various planks with carved-runes around the edges of the roof surrounding them.

"What is he doing?" Ford asked of Stan suspiciously.

"Setting up a temperature thing, invisibility that even those other kids can’t see us through; the works," Stan told him easily. "Let him do his thing, Ford; it's fine." But Ford side-eyed the boards uneasily. Was it anything like safe? Or had Bill lied? (Ford wasn't sure that he could trust Stan to always know when Bill was lying anymore. Bill was inside the perimeter with them, though…)

"Bill," Ford demanded. "What are you doing?"

Bill, without looking at him or even slowing down in what he was doing, said, "Setting up a temperature control spell that keeps the inside perimeter between 66 degrees Fahrenheit and 72 degrees Fahrenheit, and an invisibility spell that no-one else including the younger local versions of you can see through, and a sound-canceler that blocks human-made noise from travelling across the perimeter inside to outside, using these boards," as he put down another board and added a small mark to it using his knife. "There’s also a stasis spell for the food, on the crate that the food is in," Bill added in a neutral tone of voice, as he stood up and moved over several steps, to put down another board _with intent_ , as if he was placing it exactly where he was putting it for a reason. (...And as far as Ford could tell, Bill had not just lied to him and was not leaving anything out.) Ford frowned as he shifted in place.

"Where’d he get that hat?" Ford asked of Stan next. It both looked familiar, and didn’t. (Was it _actually_ Bill’s original hat? With the way it was floating above Bill’s head, it seemed likely, but… It looked… _odd_ in three dimensions.)

"Kid summoned it. With a spell." Stan’s mouth twitched. Ford was confused at Stan's reaction to Bill's successful 'summoning’(?), but he didn’t ask. He just watched Bill, as Bill finished what he was doing and sat down (and none of them immediately caught fire or _died horribly_ as whatever spellwork carved into the wood sprung into being, in a succession of odd arcing flashes). Once Bill was done (and the spellwork had gone quiescent again), Ford lowered himself back down into a more stable crouch and went back to watching the pawnshop -- taking another fish to eat as he did so, so that Stan wouldn’t complain about him not eating enough.

As he settled back into his watch, he took the time to glance back occasionally, to see the kids (and demons) taking their time fluffing pillows and all in all getting themselves settled in for the night.

Ford sighed deeply, because it may feel like the afternoon for them right now from their current sleep schedule, but the night sky overhead was making them feel sleepy regardless. Perhaps they would end up conforming to the new local time after all. ...Or maybe they were going to be trying to pull an all-nighter here like he was as well. Either way, so Ford could hardly fault their logic; they might as well get comfortable, for whatever they determined to be the correct choice of action moving forward.

(Ford rather wished he had a strong cup of coffee at the moment, though, to help keep him going. Perhaps he should have put some in his flask… or the canteen he usually reserved for water, instead.)

Everyone stared at the pawnshop.

Minutes passed with nothing happening, and single minutes slowly ticked into tens of minutes with nothing happening...

...and Miz became bored quickly, shifting around in her seat and rolling along the blankets she’d laid out on the rooftop, pillows and extra blankets piled around into an odd nest-like shape. She shifted her clothes into an oversized, long sleeve t-shirt that hung down to her knees, one with a giraffe printed on the front. She flopped around, her t-shirt lifting up to reveal bare legs above where her thigh-high socks reached.

Stan looked over and frowned. "Are you wearing anything under there?" he asked, though not really wanting to. (Hey, at least he always wore boxers and a wife beater for full coverage!)

"Just my underwear?" Miz rolled over again as Dipper blushed heavily.

"--Put on some pants!" Dipper complained.

Miz scoffed. "Pajama pants are for squares!" to which Dipper groaned:

"Modesty!"

Miz shrugged. "I mean, I was essentially naked as a dragon and you had no issue with that?" she told him, and Dipper buried his face in his hands, embarrassed by proxy.

Stan sighed. "Hey, even with the kid's temperature stuff, it’s still kind of cool out. At least wear pants for that, yeah?" he told Miz.

Stan frowned at Miz's lack of modesty before thinking over that dragon comment, and realizing that the kid had been essentially naked as a triangle himself (a hat and bowtie weren’t really enough clothing for a human-being). And then Stan thinking about all those monster-demons of the kid's and what they had and hadn’t been wearing when they'd been up against the Shacktron. So if Miz had been living with aliens like Bill’s Henchmaniacs (okay, alternative versions of them or whatever) who were all pretty much naked as well… uh…

...Hell. Maybe this was part of the reason why the kid almost always wore loose and light stuff. Kid wasn't used to wearing clothing. Hell, the kid had problems with blankets, even. ...Great. So with the way the demons thought and Miz had just talked, the two of them probably thought the rest of them should just be grateful that the two of them wore any clothes at all, to speak of. (...The kid _was_ wearing that full bodysuit though, and under his regular human clothes even. It made Stan wonder what it was made of, and how light it must be. The kid had told him before that he didn't like blankets because they were heavy and too constraining, and apparently that even included bedsheets.)

At Stan’s words, Miz materialized some shorts. Shorts technically weren’t pants, but… it _was_ a compromise 'for modesty’ and cool (but not cold) weather, for the ‘A/C range’ the kid had set up for them. (Stan wasn’t gonna second-guess that; the range seemed fine to him, and they did have blankets.)

Stan snorted. Well, at least she'd listened to him. "Thanks, Miz," Stan told her. ...Hell, Bill even patted her on the head for him. (These two, Stan swore…)

They all continued watching the pawnshop as Miz arranged a plethora of stuffed animals around her in her ‘nest’. Mabel glanced over multiple times until she couldn’t contain her curiosity and love of stuffed animals; she got up and made her way over to ask about them. "So, did you pull these from a wormspace thing and another dimension like Bill does?"

"Well, the way my powers work is that I can scan an object or creature and then recreate it on the atomic level. So most of these are copies of the dolls I have back home or rough approximations of my memories of dolls I used to have." Miz held up a huge, pillow-sized Pikachu. Mabel grinned.

"That's pretty cool. What're their names!" Mabel asked, interested.

"There's Sparky, Neon, Jellybean, Poison, Batty, Flip and Zip and their 6 children…" Miz started picking them up and listing them off, the pikachu, a dolphin, a rabbit, a poison dart frog, a bat and a bunch of cats in different colors. "The six kittens are actually dolls that my human grandfather gave me back when I was a child."

Mabel was thoroughly enraptured by them all. And when Ford noticed that, he told Mabel (with no small frustration), "Mabel, you shouldn't talk to her."

"Grunkle Ford, she’s got a really cool stuffed animal collection! Just look at all these cute faces!" Mabel said, holding up one of the stuffed animals for him to see.

Ford glanced over at Mabel quickly before refocusing on the pawnshop. "She's tricking you into liking her." She was a demon! (And… probably not another ‘Bill Cipher’ _really_ , she just… had the same name as him, as Bill had admitted outright -- and she had used to be human? That was _hardly_ the same!)

(And because she remembered once being human… perhaps that was why she was far better at lying than Bill. Yes, that must be it. _Obviously._ \--Which was why Bill had left _her_ to do the storytelling for him, and why Bill himself had avoided saying anything about that fake-brother of his. Bill was probably waiting to do so until he’d finished learning how to lie properly -- from either Stan or this Miz -- before trying to pull off the lie on his own. Ford was _on_ to him!)

"She’s going to find a way to use it to hurt you," Ford reiterated to Mabel, speaking to her love of stuffed animals. (Would tearing them apart in front of Mabel make her sad? Alarm her? Or worse? He wouldn’t put it past that demon to do so.)

"No, I'm just bored and I wanna play with my dolls." Miz responded, rolling her eyes because YEESH. There was paranoia, and then there was prejudice. "You wouldn't like me when I'm bored."

Stan snorted at this, while Dipper nodded; Dipper did _not_ want to see Miz bored. (He'd heard Bill complain about being bored at mealtimes at the Shack a **bunch** of times by this point, and all the stuff that Bill came up with to be less bored -- that Grunkle Stan pretty much always ended up vetoing -- was always really weird and kind of nuts. So who knew what Miz would do if _she_ got bored! ...Probably _not_ the chupacabra thing, because they didn't have a goat right now!)

Miz turned back to her dolls. "This is Bushy." She pointed at an orange lion. "He's the king of the animal kingdom. Flip is his daughter and she's actually next in line for the throne. Her husband is from a commoner family--" Miz moved some dolls around to point at them as she explained. Mabel nodded with a grin. This reminded her of the way she'd used to play with her dolls as a child.

Then Mabel felt a little bad because she hadn't done that in a while, being too distracted with boys, her phone, and stuff. It was bad enough she didn't love all her dolls equally. But she hadn't spent time playing with them as much as she used to. She was… growing up.

Miz looked up. "Are you ok?" she asked.

Mabel nodded. "I just got reminded that I'm growing up and don't play with my own dolls like this anymore." She kind of missed playing with them, actually. It was sad.

"You shouldn't let growing up stop you," Miz pointed out. "You can still play with whatever toys you want no matter how old you are."

Mabel gave her a small smile. "You're right. I'm being a big dumb-dumb, aren't I?"

"--You're not dumb," Miz responded before anyone else could. "You're just busy with other things. You're gonna get more responsibilities as you grow up and it'll get between your personal time for things, but that doesn't mean you can't still play when you want to." She hesitated before handing Mabel a small polar bear, shaped like a rectangle. "I got Frosty here when I was 23. I didn't let growing stop me from getting more dolls."

Mabel smiled and squeezed the polar bear. It was really soft. "And you're like what? 600 billion now?" she laughed.

Miz giggled. "I’m like, 50 billion years away from 700 billion, but yeah. And I'm STILL collecting more." A bunch of them were in Ammy's room and her penthouse suite or scattered around the Death Star. She actually wasn't sure how many she had now...

The two girls played with the dolls, making up stories and weird voices for them as they went. Stan sat back on a beanbag chair and smiled at them. ...And _wow_ , was this beanbag chair thing relaxing.

(Miz had Blessed the beanbag chairs, pillows and blankets to help ease aches and pains -- hey, if Stan didn't want direct help for his aches and pains, then indirect was fine, right? Besides, _all_ the bedding type stuff were enchanted for comfort and promoting better health, so it's not like she was helping him _specifically_ …)

It was nice to see Miz could play like a normal kid without adding in a bunch of weirdness. Comforting even. ...The kid could play that way too, if he was told all the rules first (and by that, it really meant _all_ the rules -- like 'don't eat the dolls’ and 'axes are not for stealing and beheading the dolls’ for doll-playing, knowing the kid...). But so far, the only thing Stan had found (well, that Melody had found out for him, really, but hey, getting her to help babysit was his idea, so he was taking all the credit there!) that the kid seemed to actually be able to handle in the same way as a 'normal’ kid _without_ a lot of extra explanation and junk? Was that FCLORP stuff with Soos and Melody. ...Which was, y'know, geeky as heck.

Stan noticed Bill was watching Miz and Mabel with a peaceful expression, same as he had been on the deck of the ship. Ford was still tense, glancing back now and then with a frown, whenever one of the girls giggled.

Really, the whole thing made Stan kind of wonder… because hell, the kid seemed to get more enjoyment out of watching Miz play than actually...

"Kid," Stan asked, "Uh, ya don't have to answer this one, but…" Stan scratched his cheek. "What kinda games did you used to play, way back when you were a little kid?" That got everyone’s attention, and Stan could see Ford forcibly holding himself back from turning right around and staring right at Bill for his answer, instead of keeping on staring at the house.

Bill blinked, and turned his head away from his sister and Shooting Star, and towards Stanley instead. "...Why do you want to know," Bill said slowly. He wasn't sure he trusted the question, especially so soon after...

Stan shrugged. "Just curious, really."

The kid eyed him, then after a long pause, said, "Define ' _little_ kid’."

Uhhh… right. Hell. Stan sighed. "I meant the first time you had a body. The whole triangle-triangle thing. 'Little’ triangle kid. Before you decided to be a triangle demon, or whatever. --What'd you do for fun, back then?" Stan restated, because yeah, 'games’ was probably not the best word to have used with the kid, there.

"...Listened to stories, asked questions," was what the kid handed him. And Stan waited. And waited. ...And then realized the kid wasn't just stuck trying to think of more stuff, he actually wasn't planning on saying...

"...Anything else?" Stan tried. "Maybe when you were a little older?"

"Learning things," the kid offered next. "...Deciphering codes. Reading. Thinking about... some things." Bill paused, before adding, "...Solving equations, sometimes." The kid didn't look as sure about that one, though.

"...Okay. _And?_ " Stan tried again. And the kid just looked at him and blinked. " _Anything_ else? ...Anything," Stan asked the kid.

"No, nothing else," the kid said breezily, and then Bill resituated himself in place, turning his head away from him as he went back to watching Miz and Mabel playing together.

Stan stared. (The hell? That was… it? Sonofa-- Seven things. Kid had only _seven things_ on his list from back when he'd had a brother? And… Stan did three of those with the kid on the daily -- stories, kinda, answering the kid's questions, and the whole learning thing -- and he pushed the kid to do a fourth all the time -- think about new things that the kid hadn't thought about before. And the kid was reading things on his phone now sometimes, too, since he'd gotten ahold of Mabel's phone and 'cloned’ it… which Stan had also been running interference for him on, for him to do.)

(Only thing that was missing there was the codes and the equations. ...Then again, half the time when the kid talked about his magic junk…? --Hell. That was it. That was all of it. ...And the kid thought he had "standards" for stuff?! _Hell._ )

Mabel and Dipper exchanged a glance at this (because _they'd_ been expecting to hear something more crazy, like _‘Turn all my enemies’ heads into bees! HAHA!’_ or something…). Miz glanced over at them for a second and twitched. Oh. She liked to do that… was it not funny? She thought about what Kei would say: ‘Why bees? Why not potatoes?’ the mental Kei laughed. Oh, well… Miz had a feeling that was also an unacceptable answer… ah, what did she do for fun as a human? And in Flatland?

Miz spoke up quietly. "I used to read to, and explain stuff to, my younger siblings." She looked nostalgic. "Will liked to listen to my stories. My Birthers didn’t like it though, said I was filling his head with nonsense. Said that Will should be focusing on learning how to take over our father’s place in his job, like he was supposed to, because I couldn’t…"

Stan frowned a little, thinking that didn't sound so bad. (It also didn't sound really different from the kid, yet. Probably meant the kid's Liam had been the one telling him stories.) Speaking of jobs... "Hey, stuff was different for you ‘cause of the whole… y'know, right? What was it like for most other people?" Stan asked, because maybe Miz talking more about 'normal' stuff in her old dimension would get the kid talking more, too? Get some stuff off the kid's chest, and Miz's too? (That had happened a lot, in the attic, since she'd been there.) Because hey, it couldn't have been _all_ bad, right?

Miz thought about it. "Most of the shapes I saw back then weren’t allowed to play once they were old enough for school or career training. There was a schedule in place that everyone had to follow. Wake up, eat, work or school, break for lunch, work some more… that kinda thing…" She thought about it some more. "Unless you were female, in which case you just stayed home and took care of the children, birthed more children, cooked, cleaned… females weren’t allowed a full education, the higher rank you were, the more schooling you were allowed, but once you were big enough to carry young, you were Paired off with someone and your duty was to take care of the home."

"Your dimension was less restrictive than mine, especially with the learning," the kid seemed to shrug off. "And technically also three-dimensional-plus-time.

Stan stared at the two demons. (...The hell?! Weren't _allowed_ to play? Yeah, Stan had gotten the idea before that the place had been pretty bad, from some of the stuff that Miz had said, but… What Miz had just described was like some kinda... totalitarian Nazi prison camp bullshit -- and the kid had said that was _less_ bad than _his_ dimension had been?! --Stan had been in prison in three different countries and… some of it had been as bad as this shit sounded to him, yeah, but it had been _prison_ , not… And females weren’t _allowed_ a full education?! What? What kinda 14’th century bullshit was _that?_ \--Just, the whole learning being restricted thing? That… oh. Oh hell. Learning and rules. No wonder the kid--)

Miz sighed. "It was really boring. All the stuff I did for fun were things I remembered from my human life. There wasn’t much that Shapes seemed to do in their spare time. I saw some elderly shapes walk around and sit in the park. That seemed to be it? The really young shapes would chase each other around like Tag..."

"--What about music?" Stan brought up suddenly, as it occurred to him. Kid played piano, and he liked it. He had to have learned it somewhere _sometime_. (Stan didn't really want to ask what happened if somebody broke the rules, because he was pretty sure he already knew that one. Stan did _not_ want the kid ranting about _that_ in front of the niblings.)

Miz winced. "My Flatland didn’t have music. I kept trying to introduce it but everyone told me to shut up and stop being weird." She groaned. "Thank Spud the rest of the multiverse had music… I would have gone NUTS." She paused. " _More_ nuts." She amended.

Mabel gasped, clutching the doll she was holding to her chest. "You didn't have _music?_ \--That's **horrible!** "

"The sliding scale of insanity is not musical!" the kid put out there brightly.

"Right…" Stan said. He was _really_ not liking how the kid hadn't really commented on the whole 'not having music’ thing. Did that mean the kid had or hadn't had it? Stan pulled in a breath. "...Uh, kid. The whole piano thing?" he tried asking again, more directly.

...And the kid just stared at him.

"The piano is a human construction," the kid said. "I learned how to play the piano from humans."

Miz raised her hand. "I introduced the idea of pianos to an alien race and let _them_ invent it, so that I could learn to play it." And many, MANY other instruments, too.

Stan rubbed a hand across his face. Okay. Okay. Maybe he should start over. Miz had said kids had been able to play… for awhile, and the kid had only brought up a few things that the kid _knew_ he'd liked. Didn't mean there wasn't more stuff that maybe the kid just hadn't tried out back then, to know whether he’d like it or not, right? "Kid. Was there, uh…" Stan looked around and his gaze fell on the dolls. "Anything like playing with dolls that was a thing in your old dimension?" Stan tried, because the kid and Miz did seem to have a bunch of junk in common.

"No," said Bill.

Okay, so-- Wait. Stan blinked at him. "Nothing like dolls."

"Nothing like dolls, yes," Bill repeated.

Stan pulled in a breath. "Nothing like dolls, even for girls?" Stan tried again.

"Nothing like dolls, even for lines of any age, yes," Bill told him. Stan blinked at the kid.

"Nothing that was _anything_ like that, for either of you to carry around with you, at all?" Stan said incredulously. What kind of dimension didn't have dolls? Or action figures? Or… or _something?_

Miz perked up. "There were accessories! Hats and bows and stuff. That was fun. Ornamentation was the closest thing I found to a ‘hobby’ that Flatlanders had." She’d only gotten the top hat though, should have tried to get more clothes… that was the only real way to be unique, even if all you had to choose from was black and white.

"Okay," said Stan. That seemed like a thing. Kid had accessorized as a triangle demon, so… "They have accessories in your old dimension way back when, kid?"

And the kid… made an odd uncomfortable sort of face.

"It… wasn't…" The kid's eyes weren't tracking right, and he looked frustrated. "--like that," the kid said abruptly, before adding, "My dimension was more **consistent** than hers, accessories weren't," the kid made an odd sort of two-handed gesture, "--because 'accessories’ are _irregular_ -looking and _irregular_ was-- was--" The kid was looking more and more agitated.

"Kid…" Stan said slowly, and Stan was getting a not so great feeling when the kid abruptly shifted his gaze directly to him and sat up.

And then the kid brought both hands up to his own right eye and peered through them and said, "I was a _triangle!_ " and… his hands were forming a triangle in front of his eye. " _Two_ -dimensions-plus-time, not _three_ \--" The kid huffed out a breath and dropped his hands. "I was _math!_ A triangle. Geometry!" the kid said, and Stan...

...He got it, but… Stan also didn't get it at all.

"What did you have instead of accessories?" Stan tried, and the kid grimaced, but he also got a look in his eyes that Stan recognized, and Stan braced himself for the word barrage -- because he'd just found a pathway forward for the kid to explain.

"--The _idea_ of accessories," was what the kid said next, looking wild-eyed and almost relieved after he'd said it, gotten it out there. "It-- I sold the _idea_ of them! --You didn't _wear_ them," the kid tried to explain, waving his hands about, "They-- they weren't _physical?_ \--They _weren't._ You-- you had to _explain_ them to other-- other--"

"Kid, breathe," Stan told him. "You… sold people _ideas?_ " That was… what the hell. (Wasn't that kind of like the kid's… deals? Because he'd had to sell somebody on the idea of a deal first, then…)

"--YES!" the kid said, and he looked even more relieved as he said it for some reason. "I-- I made them, and I sold them--! And when I-- I _finished_ the transaction, the selling-them, then I _gave_ them the ideas, and they-- the idea belonged to _them_ , then!" the kid said, as Stan frowned trying to follow this. "They could tell other-- other shapes and lines, you see? So _they_ could… could _see_ it? If they wanted to tell? --But it was still theirs!" Bill said. "It _stayed_ theirs. _The_ \-- the _others_ couldn't make-it-take-it _theirs_ away from them that way, they couldn't _give_ it away like I could, there's a trick to it-- you-- you see-- you have to _UNDERSTAND_ the-- the _concept_ of a-hat **entirely** \--" Bill said, bobbing side-to-side slightly and staring off into the distance.

(Stan felt like _he_ was barely holding onto the concept himself, here. Everything sounded too abstract. How was somebody supposed to sell a hat if it wasn't a physical thing? And if it was… a _description_ of a hat, maybe? Why couldn't somebody else just memorize the description and repeat it?)

"I-- I didn't just think them up? --'Make’ is closer, it wasn't just 'thinking’ things up, it was more-- more-- more of a _making-it_ , a-- a--" The kid made another odd hand motion.

(...There was something wrong with the kid, right now, Stan realized. He wasn’t acting… right. --Not that the kid ever acted _right_ , but the kid... It was like his eyes were too… shallow, somehow? Like his thinking wasn't really… reaching far enough? ...It wasn't like the kid wasn't thinking straight, exactly, either, because the kid sort of was right now? But it was more like the kid was thinking… _too_ straight, somehow. And then kept making these… jarring sideways-swivels in the way he was thinkin’, or somethin’...)

"And-- and _I_ \-- _I_ could think-and-make them up, over and over again, and I could give them away… --But-you-don't-EVER-give-any-thing-away-for-free-you-have-to-SELL-it-MAKE-it-WORTH-some-thing," the kid said next, in another mental-verbal sideways-swivel, and it sent a chill down Stan's spine, because _that_ hadn't sounded like something the kid had come up with himself, with the way he'd just rattled that off. It sounded more like something the kid had recited like he'd _memorized_ it, like he'd never really _thought_ about it much before -- not enough to really challenge the idea completely...

And then the not-so-great feeling Stan was feeling twisted slightly, as the kid rocked forward again and refocused on him again, and the kid was grinning like he was about to tell him a secret.

"...But?" Stan said slowly, because he had a feeling that the kid was _waiting_ for a 'but?’...

" _But I DIDN'T _ALWAYS_ sell them!" the kid told him, "Sometimes… sometimes I GAVE THEM AWAY, for free!" the kid said, then chittered out something a bit in glee. Because… that was really the only word Stan had to describe the kid just then. His shoulders moved up and down slightly, he was grinning with his eyes crinkled up… the kid looked like he'd gotten _away_ with something somehow, in doing that._

__

"...Broke a rule, huh?" Stan said slowly, watching the kid. (So, maybe the kid _had_ challenged it, at least once?)

"Yes! No," the kid said, still smiling. "Not a _circle_ -Rule," the kid made a face, "But a different one, yes!" Then the kid bobbed from side to side again. "--I gave one to a _friend!_ It was _fun!_ \--She wanted a hat," Bill told him, "But she never told anybody she was _wearing_ it! So nobody ever knew she was wearing it! Except us! Just her, and me! It was a SECRET," the kid told him, putting his chin on his hands, steepled out in front of him. "And we GOT AWAY WITH IT, too!"

"...Uh huh," said Stan, eyebrows raised. "Well... good for you, kid. Kinda… rebellious of ya, there." And that was really all Stan could think of to say. It just felt like some... petty, kid getting back at the adults kinda thing. A kind of invisible hat you had to describe to somebody else, for them to see it? It really sounded like a kid's game, played on the rest of the adults in the room. It left Stan feeling almost bemused, and maybe almost a little… sad. Because this whole thing just sounded...

"Yes!" the kid enthused, throwing up his hands. "I did that, too! --Joined the Rebellion," the kid told him. "I _BLACKMAILED_ my way in." The kid was grinning.

Miz whooped, "Me TOO!", about the blackmailing and joining her own world's rebellion thing. Stan blinked as he looked at them both.

"...This friend of yours, that you gave the hat to," Stan asked of Bill, resting his elbows on his knees. "She part of this Rebellion, too?"

"Oh, yes," said the kid, nodding. "She -- HAHA! -- she burned down TWO PLACES, towards the end! --One of them was my shop," the kid said, like it was a throwaway thing, like… he hadn't cared about that.

"Didn't really care about the shop, huh," Stan said, just to see where this went.

"It was stupid," said Bill. He suddenly stood up. "HERE'S THE SHOP!!" the kid said brightly, with a huge fake-false grin stamped in place, as he held out his arms at full-extension and spun in a circle in place, before coming to a stop. "DON'T SELL ANYTHING OUTSIDE OF **THIS** AREA! Because _that's_ not _a shop!!_ \--Lock it down _TIGHT_ when NO-BODY'S _SUPPOSED_ TO BE in it!" the kid said, as he half-fell half-collapsed back down onto his own bean bag chair again, no longer grinning. "SO STUPID," the kid grumbled out.

"...How do you lock down an area?" Stan said slowly. Because that just seemed… kind of nuts.

Bill made a groaning-chittery sort of noise as he flopped back in his chair, and waved a hand at him. "Time-locked it. -- _Different_ kind of time-lock. **Not** like the whole-dimension one I did for _yours_. Stupid human-American-English-language; not enough words. \--Two dimensions, and I _swear_ we understood TIME better than all of you idiots with _three_ ," the kid groused out, flinging a hand up and out at the sky. "It’s like the _third_ one just all, up-and- _DISTRACTS_ -you-all too much!" the kid said, waving his hand around at nothing at all. "And then you don't get _anywhere else!_ " The kid raised his hand up to his face, to rub at his closed eyes with his fingers, and something about his tone _now_ was… "And people think that two-dimensional people are more stupid than…" the kid trailed off in a quiet mutter.

"...More stupid than what?" Stan asked, as he realized… the kid was back to what passed as normal for him. (The kid was back to thinking the way he usually did; Stan could hear it in the kid's tone. Something about trying to bridge the gap between _now_ and _back then_ had somehow…)

"...Everyone else," was Ford's quiet contribution to the discussion, as he kept on staring at the house, and Stan glanced sideways at him. "Most people, in most dimensions, who know anything at all about other-dimensional travel…" Ford continued on quietly, sounding almost subdued.

"Oh _yes_ ," Bill said, and suddenly his tone was just _dripping_ with scorn and malice. " _I’M_ JUST A STUPID **TRIANGLE** , AREN'T I, STANFORD."

Stan saw his brother flinch at his side, his back tense.

"HAHA," said the kid, not even looking at any of them. "It just MAKES you WONDER, _DOESN'T IT_ , Stanford?" Stan clenched his jaw as his brother tried to suppress a shudder from where he sat next to him, as the 'just a triangle’ said, "Because if I'M the STUPID one, here, then _WHAT DOES THAT MAKE_ **Y** \--"

" **Stop,** " Stan said, cutting the kid off. "Nobody here thinks you're stupid, kid," Stan ground out.

There was a moment's pause. "That _Stanford_ \--"

"--Let it go, kid," Stan told him. "Don't matter what my brother thinks about ya, _I'll_ set the kids straight if I have to, along with anybody else who thinks otherwise. Get it?"

Bill remained silent.

"Okay. Good talk," Stan said. "Learned a lot. ...Don't know how you go and make it so you can't hand off a hat-idea to a somebody-else, but--"

"--You want me to tell you?" the kid said, and that left Stan blinking.

"What? Uh…" Stan didn't really get it. "Why?"

"You made a hat for _me_ ," the kid said, and Stan blinked because, yeah, he had, that witch's kind of hat that he'd made out of black triangular cloth pieces and junk (because the kid had kept complaining and complaining about not having his hat, and so he'd thought that maybe he could replace the thing and just make the kid _calm down_ ) that the kid had gotten all excited about when he'd first given it to him, for no good reason that he could… see... (Oh _hell_...)

"Don't you want to know how to give them away properly to _anyone?_ " the kid asked him next, cocking his head at him.

"...Sure, kid," Stan said slowly. "Why don't you tell me the, uh, trick to it, then. If you want." And the kid sat up straight and _grinned_ at him.

"I want!" the kid said brightly. He clapped his hands together. "So! --The _secret_ ," the kid said, "and the _trick_ is… you make them CUSTOM."

...Right. The kid had said something like that before. He’d asked him, hell, _multiple times_ if Stan had made it just _for him_. (And then immediately shown it off to Melody after Stan had gotten done convincing him that, yeah, he had. The kid had worn it all day on that one single day, and hadn't really worn it since -- _or_ complained about not having his top hat on him anymore -- which had had Stan thinking that having _a_ hat had been enough until the summoning thing about an hour ago. The kid had just squirrelled his new _custom_ -made all-triangles triangular hat away from them all for safekeeping... except for when the kid had worn it again that one time, for that FCLORP session the kid had NPC'd for Melody.)

So, apparently 'custom’ was a thing for the kid, and the kid actually wanted to share something? Sure. Stan was _all for_ getting the kid some more practice at sharing shit with other people that the kid thought was important. (He wasn't about to turn anything like that down, especially right now, when the kid had said before that the 'lesson’ was ‘him not oversharing’. Besides, hell, if Stan did that, the kid would probably think he was devaluing it, and the kid himself, again.)

So, sure. "Okay, kid. How do _you_ do that for… idea-hats," Stan asked.

"Idea-hats! HAHA! Yes!" The kid grinned. "--You know the measure of the person you're making it for!" the kid told him. "And so, when you make the _idea_ of it for them… you make it in their _size_ ," the kid said, "To match them."

"Okay…" Stan said leadingly. "Still not seein’ how that's any different from a physically-there hat being too big or too small on anybody's head." Honestly, he wasn't really seeing it at all.

"Yes!" the kid said next. "The idea of the hat is _relative_ to the size and measure of the shape! So they can describe it, as it fits them! But if anybody ELSE tries to describe it…" the kid grinned a little wider. "It _doesn't_ fit _them_ , because they are _not_ the same shape _or_ the same size!"

Stan frowned slightly. "Uh. Give me an example, kid? Like… for your head?"

"HM," said the kid. It took him a moment, staring off into the distance.

And then he got an ‘aha!’ look and took his hat off for a moment, then raised a finger to the center of his face, to point at himself.

"You see me, yes?" Bill asked. Stan nodded slowly. 'Course he did. "Out, five inches from center, between two eyes; towards top… curve." The kid moved his hand straight up, to leave his finger pointing at a spot right above the top of his head. "Following the curve to the left, 30 degrees, line moving outward-" and the kid gave some kind of string of letters and numbers that sounded like an equation, "-of length five inches." And then the kid moved his finger straight to the left five inches… and left a softly-glowing trail of light behind.

The kid did this, and talked his way through what looked like… the outline of his own top hat, when it had been hovering above his head, before.

And then when the kid was all done, he waved it all away, and held up his other hand.

"Different shape!" the kid said, holding up the same finger as before. He started it at the center of his palm. "Out, five inches from center," the kid began, and the rest of it, following the exact same rattled-off set of instructions… turned out to be a freaking _mess_ , a crazy glowing outline that made no sense, and didn't even connect at the ends.

"...Okay," said Stan, struggling to hold down a laugh. "I think I see where you're going with this, kid." Because with _that_ explanation? He really kind of did.

And the kid just _grinned_.

(He could practically hear the question marks dancing above his brother's head, there, sitting next to him, because his brother had refused to turn the hell around and watch the kid for all of the thirty seconds while he'd been showing them, there.)

Stan stifled a sigh, sat back in his chair, and thought about that one. "...Be a mess above my head, too, right?" he asked the kid as the kid waved away the mess and put his hat back in his head. Stan said it both for the kid, to show that he got it, and his own brother, so _his_ head wouldn't explode tryin’ to figure this one all out on his own. (Ford knew what the kid looked like, but hadn't seen what the kid had pointed to next.) "My head's bigger, don't curve as much as yours, looking head-on…"

The kid nodded at him, eyes lighting up.

"Huh," said Stan, as his own brother paused for a moment next to him, then startled next to him a few seconds later. (Stan managed not to laugh.) And then Stan let out a sigh. Because… it kind of _was_ the same thing. Stuff not fitting. Just… a different way of how it was not fitting. ...Huh. --And that'd explain why nobody could steal it, too. If you had to understand the whole thing from the start, what it was supposed to look like from _in front_ , then...

Wait...

Stan looked over at the kid.

"Kid," Stan said slowly. "If you're makin these things in two dimensions… what are the two dimensions?" Because… no matter how Stan tried to turn it around in his brain, he couldn't figure that one out. You needed the third one to check that, what it was supposed to look like, with the moving outline through the other two...

"Breadth and depth," said the kid, and Stan felt Ford startle next to him. ...That also kind of didn't help _him_ , because that wasn't length, width, or height.

"Show me?" Stan asked the kid, and the kid thought for barely a moment, then raised both hands to his own eye-level, flat and fingers splayed outwards, palms-down.

"Breadth," the kid said, and swiveled his whole head, hands included, about his neck, like his head was fixed on a pole. "Depth," the kid said, and he moved his hands forward, then back again, like he was sliding them along a flat table top right in front of his eyes.

(Ford had turned around next to him for this, and he was staring.) 

Miz blinked. "Cool, my Flatlands were more like… 2-D people in a 3-D space."

"So was the one I saw that confused me for a long time," the kid said, as he slowly lowered his hands, and Stan _almost_ asked about that one, but he knew better; he'd be chasing the kid down rabbit holes forever unless he got the first concept first. He'd figured out that one within the first hour of the first day.

"What's the third dimension?" Stan asked the kid. (Ford's shoulders went tense. Because for some reason his brother was absolutely freaking incensed with him right now. The hell?)

"Time," the kid said next, "But it's more of a -half, because it was only-forwards not also-backwards for controlled-motion," the kid told him. 

"What's the fourth one, then?" Stan asked next. (And hell, now he could practically hear Ford mentally screaming with impatience at him right next to him, for some reason. ...Well, if he didn't want to ask the kid out loud whatever he wanted to himself, that was _his_ problem, not Stan's.)

"Height," said Bill. "A concept which can be approximated by ‘hierarchy’, but doesn't really fit or match or encompass the WHOLE of the idea, so..." the kid looked annoyed at this.

"How do you figure out what the shape of the idea-hat looks like from… above, then? To check it?" Stan asked him.

To that, the kid gave him an odd look.

"You don't," the kid told him. "There was no 'up’. You measured everything from the sides." He held up both hands again, next to each other -- this time palms-outwards towards him -- and kept the fingers un-splayed this time. And then the kid moved his right hand towards his left, then moved the side of his right hand along the side of his left hand, almost like he was rubbing it, and… then kept on moving it like… it sort of looked like a violin-string motion almost? Moving along and back again, with a different tilt? Except he kept going...

"O-kay…" Stan said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, because this was almost giving him a headache. "Not… not really sure how that works out, kid."

"Close your eyes," the kid said next, and Stan sighed and closed them. "There is a table in front of you."

"No, there isn't," said Stan.

" _Pretend_ ," the kid said with exasperation. "That there is a table in front of you. You are eye-level with it." (Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, then closed their eyes for a moment, to try and ‘imagine’ as well.)

"Okay." Stan didn't really see where the kid was going with this, but… "I see it."

"No, seeing is wrong," the kid told him. "The wrong sensory modality. This is feeling-with-touch," the kid told him. "In seeing, the lines converge, but the breadth does not ACTUALLY change with depth. Think," the kid said. "The table is right in front of you. It is two feet deep, and five feet wide." ...Yeah, okay. "If you reached out with your hands, across the tabletop, where would you feel the table below your hands-and-fingertips? --Forward, back, across, sideways," the kid said. "It's _there_ , the actual physical thing. Your eyes lie to you, say that the thing becomes smaller when it is further away," the kid said. "You can 'see’ that, but your touch tells you where it actually is. Straight out. Not getting any smaller."

Okay. Stan could sort of get this, but… "That's not sideways, kid, that's the…"

"There is a plate on the table," the kid said next, and suddenly Stan thought _ground_ when it came to the table, and it came to him in a flash. The kid had needed something solid to start with, to-- "You can move your hands around the plate, but your hands stay on the table. You can use both hands if that's easier," the kid said. "You trace the circumference around it. You know the shape of the plate. You can trace it."

Stan opened his eyes and let out a sigh, scrubbing his hands through his hair. Okay, so... if he was moving through a room in the dark, yeah. Kind of like that. Memorize where stuff was, how large it was, where it was, and try not to hit it. It was sort of a… these things are larger and here, thing, Stan guessed. Sure.

But that still didn't tell him… "How would you explain height to somebody if they only understood breadth and depth?" Stan asked the kid, because he wanted to know how the kid had got there himself, and he wanted the explanation to be something simple that maybe he could get -- because he bet that the way that the kid had first done it had felt hellaciously complicated to the kid -- and when stuff felt complicated to the kid, he liked making it feel complicated to everybody else, too. (Stan had figured out that one pretty quick, as well.)

"Ha," said the kid. He sat up straight.

"Start with breadth, rotate about a point at the center of you," the kid said, doing the head-on-a-pole thing again. "That's a rotation you understand. And you know others rotate about other points, their own points too -- but that doesn't matter so much," the kid told him. "Depth, a line out in front of you." The kid used a finger to trace a line out from the tip of his nose, then back again. "This feels like a point at the surface here," the kid tapped the tip of his nose, "And this line intersects with and at and through the point at the center of you that you _usually_ spin around," the kid told him, then paused.

"Okay, with ya so far, kid," Stan confirmed.

The kid nodded once, then held his hands out in front of him again… weirdly. Stan frowned. The kid's left hand was held out fine, palm-up… but his right arm was contorted across his left arm, elbow practically sticking straight-up in the air, and his right hand was flipped over, palm up and to the right of his left hand, as the kid was facing him; both thumbs were touching each other, and…

"There is a line, that feels like a point, out in front of you," the kid said. "You turn about _that_ ," the kid said, and he twisted his hands together, at the same time -- counter-clockwise facing him -- and suddenly both of the kids hands were… still next to each other, but held out normally, palms-down. "And left becomes right and right becomes left--"

"--and everything becomes upside down--" Stan heard his brother choke out, right next to him, so quietly that _he_ almost didn't even hear it... (but why the hell did his brother sound so horrified…?)

("--and backwards and wrong--" Ford mouthed out, unable to get out the rest of the words, feeling completely out of breath as he stared at Bill.)

"And keep turning and turning..." the kid said, after only holding it for a few moments… and now the kid's right hand was held out, palm-up, normally, and it was the kid's _left_ hand and arm that was being held all upside-down and weirdly now. "...aaaaand there you are!" the kid ended, then dropped both his hands back down to his lap.

( _’--and, and all twisted around on you by the end of it--!!’_ Ford thought hysterically, feeling dizzy and very wrong himself as he shivered in place.)

Stan stared at this. "Okayyyy," he told the kid. "That seems like it'd be… kind of… jarring." Wasn't really sure how to put that. "Maybe like a fall in a direction you don't expect?" Stan tried, because those were pretty jarring. Slipping on ice sometimes felt like everything was spinning around on you, and kind of a lurch.

"Yes!" said the kid. "Learning something new that completely changes your whole view-of-the-world is-and-should ALWAYS be like that!" the kid said brightly, looking very pleased with him for some reason.

(...And Stan didn't really know what was up with his brother, now. Ford seemed really freaking angry all of a sudden for no damn reason that Stan could see, fists clenched in his lap and practically vibrating with rage.)

"Right. Different 'world view’," heh. Stan got the joke, even if Ford didn't. "Next step, view from above, right?" Stan asked the kid, settling back, and the kid nodded at him enthusiastically, grinning.

(...aaaaand now his brother seemed really confused and taken aback. Hell. They were really gonna have to have another _long_ talk in the basement again after all this, once they were home again, weren't they.)

"Huh," said Stan. "Thanks, kid." The kid looked a little startled, but he smiled again, before settling back into his chair.

(Ford slowly turned back towards the house he was supposed to be watching, fuming. --Damn him. Damn him! This meant that-- ~~Bill had made everything that had ever felt that way _like that_ **deliberately** \--~~ _Damn him!!_ )

Things got quiet again for awhile after that. Ford sat there, watching the house, still fuming, while Dipper kept sneaking glance after glance back at Bill, and staring down at his own hands occasionally (and wishing he had his journal with him, because then he could've recorded how Bill had just described his own hat).

Stan sat where he was next to his brother, watching the kid and Miz and Mabel, and the kid kept watching his little sister and Mabel playing more with the dolls again (with the occasional odd question from Mabel on whether Bill had sold bows and other stuff).

They all sat where they were (sort-of, mostly) peacefully for a while, watching the Pawn shop or each other, until Miz tilted her head and commented to Bill, "So your family were merchants? Mine were carpenters. I wasn't allowed to learn because my Birthers knew I would be taken away anyway and couldn’t be their heir, so they birthed Will to be their son and replace me…"

"All equilateral 'perfect’ triangles were merchants; isosceles were laborers and guards--" and the kid seemed to cut himself off right there. Then the kid pulled in a breath, and said, "No carpenters. --No height -- no trees." The kid sighed. "No buildings, just concepts of walls and areas-of-exclusion with time-locks on them sometimes." He sounded half-annoyed again, at nothing in particular.

"Soooo…" Mabel said slowly. "You were… perfect?" She sounded skeptical.

"Sixty degrees that come in threes," the kid said almost sing-song, then said more soberly, "My OUTER sides were." Then he got a slow and almost nasty smile. "My _inner_ -sides have been and always-will-be very, VERY _irregular_." He sounded almost pleased at this for moment, before his tone soured. "Too bad for _them!_ None of THEM ever cared about trying to measure anyone's _inner_ -sides AT ALL, just the OUTER ones that they could all see and touch. ...Idiots," the kid muttered out at the last, sinking into his beanbag chair further and glaring out at the world.

Miz shrugged. "Same, I was a perfect equilateral on the outside and my insides were all wrong, but in MY Flatland, they could measure my insides. Was a pretty uncomfortable experience…" She grimaced, placing a hand over the space between her legs unconsciously. Stan remembered Miz saying that apparently her ‘genitals’ had been wrong and shuddered as he realized what that meant for her. They had _measured_ her insides? That was… (He **really** hoped the kids _didn't_ understand that one.)

Bill frowned a little, remembering what she'd said about parts and slots. "Insides are not inner-sides," Bill said slowly. "Our insides were… homogenous?" He wasn't entirely sure. He'd never actually seen… he'd never killed anyone outright himself in his old dimension, back before it had all destabilized on him, just heard stories about what that was like. "Puncture and die. Break and die. Bend and… _usually_ die, or be demoted. No going back." And most shapes had thought the latter was the worse of the two fates.

"That’s a difference I guess? Our Flatlands are similar but not the same, in my world we could break but as long as the damage wasn’t too bad, we could heal." Miz shuddered as she remembered the way that Circle had cracked like an egg, his outer shell caving in so… easily.

"No healing," said Bill. "Survive the initial blow or die. Fragile." Very fragile. He smiled though, as he said, "Lines were the most dangerous! But everyone tried not to tell them so. The circles tried to say the opposite. _So_ stupid. HA!"

"That’s another difference. Females were Lines in your world. In mine, everyone were Shapes, and male or female was determined by your insides." Miz hugged an elephant doll to herself. "Or you could be BOTH like I was."

"Wait," said Mabel, as she lowered her own doll, "There were no girl triangles?" she asked Bill.

"Girl… triangles?" Bill said, blinking. And blinking again. And blinking...

"Oh boy," Stan said, "Think you broke him again, Mabel," Stan teased. (Wasn't the first time she'd done it, either. Heh.)

"No nooooo, that's-- noooooo," said Bill, shaking his head. His dimension was not like Miz's! "That's not how it--"

"But there _could_ be a two-dimensional dimension with girl triangles, right?" Mabel asked next, curiously. "What would that be like?"

Bill opened his mouth and raised a finger to the sky. ...And then he stopped, almost seeming to grind to a halt as Mabel's question actually registered… and then he sort of let out an odd click...click…...click……… sound.

And then Bill got a completely DISTURBED look on his face.

And sat there frozen in place for awhile.

"Yup, you broke him again," Stan said good-naturedly, because had he called it, or had he called it? Heh. (Ford had turned around again to stare at them all in confusion. ...Then stared at Bill for awhile.)

Then the kid shook his head back and forth abruptly, snapped his mouth shut, and practically glared down at Mabel when he was done.

"YOU--" the kid began, pointing his finger at her. "That's _NOT_ how it--" The kid stopped again, closing his eyes.

And then the kid let out a seriously-strangled but forced-out anyway "HAHAHA!" and slapped that pointing accusatory hand to his own forehead.

"Right! Yes! FINE! FEMALE TRIANGLES! INSTEAD OF LINES! YES! _WHY NOT!_ " the kid said, his voice getting higher pitched with each word that came out of his mouth. "DIDN'T THINK OF _THAT_ BEFORE!!! MAYBE-- HAHA! ...MAYBE EVEN _MALE LINES_ INSTEAD?" the kid managed to get out next, and then the kid paused and looked completely disturbed all over again at what he'd just said (at only reversing what Mabel had just told him), before letting out another stressed-out "HAHAHA!" again.

(Stan let out a sigh. Kid always did that when he got slapped in the face with the fact that he’d been making an assumption about something, treating it like one of those 'absolute rules’ that he'd said most 'stupid' people never even _thought_ about crossing, because they didn't even know what _violating_ it looked like. …In other words, that they didn't even know was there, treating it like a wall, when it was just another of the kid's so-called 'lines that you could step over’. ...Eh, the kid would get over it. Never took him long. Maybe a minute at most.)

"NOT ACTUALLY MALE OR FEMALE ANYWAY! 14 BILLION DIFFERENT GENDERS!!l NEVER BOTHERED WITH THE PAPERWORK TO FIGURE IT ALL OUT! COULD BE THE OTHER WAY AROUND ANYWAY! HAHAHAHAHA!!!" Bill ended almost shrilly, laughing with a hand over his eyes and a too-wide grin on his face.

(Stan let out another sigh, watching the kid. Luckily, the kid looked like he was calming down on his own again finally, head tilted back and his breathing slowing. So Stan didn't have to get up to walk over there to sit down next to him, put his hand on the kid's head to help calm him down. Kid usually didn’t get that worked up over things, never had before on a 'trip on a rule-line' thing, but there was a first time for everything.)

Dipper was frowning at Bill. The conversation had shifted and it seemed like nobody else had noticed for some reason, but… Miz had said that her birthers (was that like parents? Hadn’t Miz mentioned something like that before?) had decided to have another child (Will, her little brother) to _replace_ her? Because she wasn’t a perfect triangle on the inside like she was on the outside? Why hadn't Bill jumped all over that? (It was pretty clear that Bill was trying to act supportive to Miz, and Bill didn't like parents to begin with. That was the kind of thing that usually got the stupid dorito ranting about stuff. But Bill hadn't called her parents out on being crazy-horrible. The triangle demon had just started talking about merchants and stuff instead, like it didn't even register. Like… like being replaced was normal?)

Dipper bit his lip before asking, "Miz, did you say your little brother was… supposed to _replace_ you?" The thought of being replaced by a sibling was kind of horrifying to him. (...And was that why they had been Bill and Will, with almost the same name? That just made it even worse! ...Wait, didn't Miz say her birthers hadn't even _named_ her?)

"Yeah. Because they knew they wouldn’t be able to have me as their heir, the Council was going to take me away so… I guess they cut their losses and just tried again…" Miz frowned. "At first, I was angry and upset that my supposed ’parents’ were so willing to just… write me off. But then I realized that having a brother would mean I wasn’t alone anymore."

(As Miz spoke, Bill twitched hard, violently in place -- almost a flinch -- before glancing over at her. Because Miz’s situation had been the opposite of his, the roles somewhat reversed, and… was… was that what Liam had felt like? 'At first’? Angry and upset that he… that… that… that _couldn't_ be right… could it?)

(Dipper noticed that Bill had flinched when Miz had said 'angry’, but… Bill just looked vaguely uncomfortable at the rest. ...Or indifferent. Dipper glanced over at Mabel…)

Miz continued, "And after he was born, I just…" She trailed off. "He was so small. So… helpless and tiny and cute and…" She wiped at her eyes. "...and I loved him. So much. Our father didn’t like me hanging out with Will, but I did it anyway. And after the Council sent guards to ‘politely’ prevent me from going anywhere near my family, I had to start sneaking out to leave him letters. We only got to talk through letters for a while before…" Miz trailed off. "Well, my dimension burned to the ground and ah… that… yeah…"

"Not your fault," Bill commented on the burning. ~~(Liam had always loved him. Thinking otherwise was stupid. No reason to think about it!)~~ He fully intended to continue reminding her of what he considered to be a fact until she began remembering it regularly herself.

(Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look.)

Miz sighed. "Doesn’t mean I don’t still feel kinda bad about it." She gripped her doll harder.

"Shouldn’t," said Bill. "It's not your fault. The others are to blame, so blame the-others."

"Was it your fault?" Dipper challenged Bill next. (Because Bill was really kind of all over the place, here. But…) Great-Uncle Ford had said that the Oracle had told him...

"No," said Bill. "The fire wasn't my fault. I tried to put it out."

Dipper had been expecting the first denial -- Bill didn't take responsibility for anything that he did that was wrong. Dipper hadn't expected the second part, though.

Miz winced. "I accidentally started the fire…" she paused. "I caught on fire. And that started a chain reaction that caught everything else on fire." (And it was sort of her fault. Miz didn't say it but it was clear from her tone… to the other humans on the roof with her, anyway. But to Bill...)

That… felt almost familiar, the way she had said it that time. Bill stared up at the sky.

"There was fire… and it was blue…" Bill said, and his voice was far away. "I fell… and everything hurt… and…" He grimaced. Everything had felt out of sequence then. Time hadn't been working, progressing, properly. Bill wasn't even entirely sure whether he'd tried to Look for his brother before… no, it had been _after_ he'd fallen, after he'd tried to drag himself back up for the second time and he'd been burning… no, not a second time, he hadn't dragged himself up the _first_ time, he'd _been dragged_ by that Sphere the _first_ time -- he'd only done it himself the _next_ time, just the _once_...

"--was burning and burning but I didn't _die_ , even though everyone else did. I tried to find survivors, but there was nothing but blue fire everywhere--" Miz was staring off into the distance, eyes faintly Flickering to scenes of a world filled with nothing but blue flames, the ground, the sky, the air itself...

"Oh, I died," said Bill oh so casually, so lost in old memories, that his Mind wasn't currently configured to properly and FULLY parse correctly and in their entirety at the moment, that he wasn't really thinking about who-all was actually _listening_ to him at that particular moment. "But I refused to die. So I didn't die." And to Bill, at that point, when it had happened, it had really been that simple. ~~(Don't die. Refuse to give up. Refuse to let go. Refuse to _change_. Refuse to let anyone stop you. Refuse to _let_ it END this way. Refuse, refuse, refuse! And _GET LIAM BACK!_ )~~

"--and then I tried to put it out by _eating_ the fire, which was pretty stupid, looking back, but I wasn't quite in my right mind at the time… and then I exploded and that's how I lost my body…" Miz shuddered. Exploding wasn't the best sensation. She'd gotten used to it by now, being able to trigger them on purpose for a REASON, but that first time had hurt.

"And then I began screaming forever," Bill sighed out, skipping over talking about-- ~~or thinking about what had happened with that _other_ Bill and _other_ Liam, because he hadn't been him, was never going to BE him, so why dwell on it?~~ "And then I put out the fire. Eventually."

Dipper's attention was ping-ponging between the two demons (and why, oh why, hadn't he brought along his journal?!), while Mabel just looked shocked and worried as she listened.

(Ford was stuck on the fact that Bill had just said that he'd _died_ back then, because even though he'd seemed to contradict himself seconds later, he hadn't been lying either time. ...which meant that, to the best of Bill's own knowledge, _that_ had likely been the first time that Bill had died. But the mechanism by which demons came back...)

(...if there was one thing Ford _was_ certain of about demons, it was that demons didn't just get to _refuse_ to die, and come back again almost immediately. The multiverse did NOT work that way.)

(Except that had been _exactly_ what had happened with Bill and the memory gun, hadn't it?)

~~_(So then what **was** Bill, really?)_ ~~

"--and by the time I was aware again, a new dimension had been created by my explosion. I was the big bang, apparently." Miz sighed. It was a totally cool concept, but she didn't enjoy being part of it. "And then the AXOLOTL found me, probably wondering about this new dimension that HE didn't create. And he found me."

Bill blinked, then blinked, then shook himself, and seemed to come back to himself again.

"--Which makes NO SENSE!" Bill exclaimed, looking over at her. Then he paused. "But I love you anyway," Bill said easily, and without reservation. "...Also, I still hate that lizard," he huffed out.

Miz grinned. "I love you too. And you can hate the Axolotl all you want." Brother's Ax sounded like a real jerk.

"Yes," said Bill, because of course she loved him, she was his little sister! "And yes." He would continue to hate the stupid lizard. He just wouldn't necessarily kill _her_ piece-of-the-it outright.

"...And your dimension became the Nightmare Realm instead," Dipper said, looking to Bill.

"It destabilized and collapsed a lot and I told that Stanford it was called that _right away_ , so that he did not try to give it one of those STUPID random names of his that he makes up for things that already HAVE perfectly good names for them, yes," Bill told Pine Tree very straightforwardly. (Ford choked upon hearing this. --He didn't just name things randomly!)

That was weird. Dipper frowned as he thought this over. Miz had… exploded inside her dimension and created a new one, while Bill had only sort-of died and then actually been able to stop the fire in his own dimension... and it had imploded instead? Was this some kind of… big bang versus black hole thing?

Miz hummed. "Well I do have my own other dimension that I call the Nightmare Realm, which brother says is probably a collapsed dimension. That's fine, that means it's already broken so I wouldn't break it any more no matter how I mess with it. So I go there whenever I'm overflowing and need to release my pent up energy without hurting anyone." Miz snorted. "Though apparently other people can still be unfortunate enough to end up there from falling through portals." She shrugged. "I found Seb's Ford and Stan there. Good thing too. They would have died if I hadn't found them and brought them to safety."

Dipper sat up straight, eyes wide and hands twitching. "What?!" Was she really being serious there, about this Seb Pines guy? ...Or was this just some made-up story like Great-Uncle Ford had warned them about, just some kind of prank that she would laugh at them about later for believing?

Miz blinked at him. "Oh, well, like I've said before, I helped Sebastian fix his portal so he could get his brothers back, and that somehow got it temporarily connected to MY Nightmare Realm due to some energetic resonance. And since dimensions aren't time synched, even though Sebastian had been working on fixing the portal for 13 years, the Stan and Ford I found had only JUST fallen into the portal when I found them." Miz laughed. "Fordsie was so sleep deprived and paranoid he couldn't even realize I wasn't HIS…" She trailed off before coughing, "...that MY dimensional set wasn't his own dimensional set. Anyway. I took them back home with me and gave them some food and a place to sleep and get their bearings."

Stan, who had been listening to all this without comment, saw how the twins’ eyes went wide as they both glanced over at Ford. He watched the kids try to stifle their own reaction at realizing Miz's _near-thing_ there, that they had been talking about Miz having been a triangle, even though none of them had outright said she was a Bill… (and Stan barely held back the snort, because how much did the kids really think they could get away with them on, there? Sayin’ things right out in the open like that?)

(The kids were worried because they weren't sure if their great-uncle remembered that Miz was a Bill Cipher or not. He knew what day it was, and he hadn't completely freaked out on deck the night before about multiple Bills being a thing, when Miz had brought it up again in front of them all when Grunkle Stan hadn't been around. But other Bill Ciphers maybe being somewhere else far far away was a heck of a lot different than Miz being one and _right there_ …)

...but Ford wasn't looking at them and made no clear indication that he thought they knew that Miz was a Bill. (Stan, being the closest, was the only one who could see Ford's white-knuckled grip on his knees.) When it didn't seem like Ford was going to comment on what Miz had (nearly or actually) said, the kids seemed to relax and return to the conversation. (Stan stifled a sigh. The kids really must think they were dense. Well, as long as his brother was okay, it was fine, Stan guessed...)

So Stan left the kids and demon-kids to their falling for awhile. He had other things to think about, like what Miz had said a couple minutes earlier about--

And it was about that point, that Stan finally put together something Miz had implied from a couple of her earlier statements just then on the roof, with what Ford himself had said earlier at the boat.

Miz had been replaced by a younger brother, Will, because she hadn't been perfect. Bill was the younger brother, with an older brother, Liam, who wasn't perfect and had been killed for it, while Bill had been… --And then there were their names, that Ford had practically obsessed over. Will. Bill. Liam. And when Stan put _all that_ together what Ford had said earlier, back at the boat -- _William_ \-- Stan…

...got an entirely different result than Ford had gotten. And Stan felt cold.

Son of a-- The kid's parents had given him _exactly the same name_ as his older brother Liam, the one who was going to be killed by their government, because **Bill** had been his _**replacement**_? Really? That would be bad enough, if that really turned out to be actually a thing with a kid, but... -- _Exactly_ the same name? 'Bill’ and 'Liam’ were both short for 'William’, and-- Hell, had those 'parents’ of theirs actually--!?

\--Damnit, forget _'no imagination’_ , that was just plain out and out wrong. 'Replacing' him and giving them both the same name. Like it didn't really matter which-- (And then gaslighting the kid like that afterwards, pretending that Liam had never even existed in the first place?! If that was what had actually happened to Bill… no wonder the kid was insane!)

Hell, even he and Ford had been Stan _ley_ and Stan _ford_. Their parents had only started calling them both 'Stan’ when they were younger, because they'd started calling Ford ‘Sixer’ like he'd wanted, but kept calling him Lee when he'd wanted to be called Stan. Ford had gone along with it, demanding that everybody call them _both_ 'Stan’ (just as Stan had), until nobody had called Stan 'Lee’ anymore for at least a month straight -- because that was what brothers _did_ \-- but...

Oh, hell no. No, he was not jumpin’ off of this cliff alone. (If he was doing this, he was taking Ford with him, damnit.)

~~(...Along with a goddamned parachute, because he wasn't a goddamn _idiot._ )~~

"Kid," Stan said. "How do you say your name in Triangle-speak?" Because he wasn't flipping born yesterday and he felt Ford startle next to him.

The kid eyed him, and let out a chittering-chatter of noise, then stopped.

"That ‘William’ in English? Or 'Bill’?" Stan said.

The kid opened his mouth and let out a much shorter chittering-whistle of sound, then said, "-is 'Bill’." Then the kid let out the same, much longer chittering-chatter of noise that he'd made before, and said, "-is 'William’."

And Stan, who had been listening intently to what the kid had been saying (first-half had sounded close, but not quite, so he knew he was gonna get this wrong, but…)

Stan made the second-half of the longer sound (not repeating any of what had come before that middle-cutoff point that he'd been able to pick up on from the 'Bill’ piece), and then said, "-is Liam?"

Bill gave him a long look. He very slowly sat up, staring holes into Stan's eyes. ...And once Bill was fully-upright where he was sitting... then and only then, Bill made a shorter whistle-chittering of sound, that _overlapped_ just a little bit with what he had done before, for his own name.

Kid was still staring at and into him as Stan said, "Thanks for clearin’ that up, kid."

"Your pronunciation is horrible," the kid said flatly, still staring holes in him.

"Yeah, well, ya’ haven't taught me Triangle-speak yet," was Stan's response, staring right back at him. Bill blinked. And then the kid started to frown slightly. ...And the kid's pose got just a little less rigid. (Stan wanted to punch the kid’s parents. Because Bill had just not-quite (but definitely) confirmed Stan’s guess.)

"--How does _that_ translate to _'William’?!_ " was Ford's own challenge right next to him, and what the hell, Ford--

Miz shrugged. "Well, in my dimension, saying ‘William’ would be more like-" and then she let out a strange vibrating hum and clicking sound. Miz tilted her head. "Translation is weird."

"'William’ means ‘resolute protector’," Ford ground out angrily, and Stan glanced over at him. (The hell? Had his brother _actually thought_ that about the kid at some point? _Really?_ )

"Technically," the kid drawled out at them all, "'William’ is 'wil’ and 'helm’. ‘Will, desire’..." the kid smirked, "and 'helmet of protection’. _You_ know..." kid trailed off leadingly, leaning to the side to prop his head up on a fist, and the kid was... pointedly staring at Ford's forehead now. Ford, for some reason, looked absolutely ill as his hand rushed up to touch the center of his forehead, and what the hell was going on there? The kid grinned at him, and Ford looked truly disturbed.

"Well, I was actually translating the letters that make up the word ‘William’ over into the closest approximation of that in my language and then reading it back out." Miz shrugged. "I wasn’t going for the meaning behind the word." Stan could tell that Miz was trying to distract them all away from whatever the hell her brother had just said, and considering that whatever Bill had just said seemed to really upset Ford… Yeah. Stan grimaced.

"Ford, might want to let this one go…" Stan told him quietly, and Ford shivered in place next to him, still staring at the kid.

" _What did you do_ ," was what Ford said next to the kid, and Stan felt a chill go down his spine.

"--Kid, do _not_ answer that!" Stan snapped out, and the kid actually looked _startled_ , before glancing between them.

"Stanley, the plate in my head is _supposed to--_ " Ford began in shaking tones, and Stan glanced back at him and realized-- he remembered the thing with the memory gun. Ford had a plate in his head. To--

\--keep the memory gun from working, but… he'd said ‘his mind wasn't _safe_ ’ and 'it doesn't work’ down in the boat's hold, clutching at his head.

"...What the hell am I missing here?" Stan grumbled out at them all, because damn it, how was he supposed to--?!

"He thinks the metal plate in his head is supposed to keep me out," the kid offered up to him slowly, and Ford shuddered and looked even more pale.

Stan stared, looking between them. "...My brother didn't like the alligators," Stan said slowly. "Or the moat." (Ford was staring over at him now.)

"No, he did not," Bill huffed out. "He kept getting himself into worse and worse--! …trouble," Bill ended on, looking frustrated. "She owed me a favor. It was fine. He's fine--!" Bill started to waved off, but the kid trailed off on the "...now." Because the kid saw, just as Stan did, how absolutely dead white Ford looked now.

"Jessie’s capable of lying…" Miz frowned, picking up on what had happened here and what Ford was finally realizing. Even if Bill’s Oracle and her own were ENTIRELY different types of people. But the one here had lied to that Stanford, telling him that plate would keep him safe, and Ford had thought she’d meant ‘safe from Bill’ and not actually what it was really for, and--

Stan felt another chill go down his spine, because Ford looked about to break apart if anybody breathed on him wrong. Shit.

"Ford, worst problem with this thing that you're worried about. _Right now_ ," Stan demanded out of him, in a voice that had always worked on the twins, at least.

"Bill can get inside my head when I'm awake," Ford breathed out, with a tinge of hysteria to his tone. And with the way Ford was staring at the kid, his brother looked cornered, like... ‘cornered by a hungry mountain lion without a fancy sci-fi gun on him’ cornered. " _The plate in my head doesn't keep him out..._ " Ford said, sounding halfway to hysterical.

"Kid, counterpoint. _Now_ ," Stan demanded out of the kid, not looking away from his brother.

"The plate in his head keeps me out while he's awake if he wants me kept out when he's awake, when I'm in the Mindscape; I can't get into his Mindscape if he doesn't want me there," the kid said, and he didn't sound all that happy about that.

"Counter-counterpoint, kid," Stan said next, because he knew his brother, and what would happen if he just left it there. (And it wasn't like he didn't have a system for putting the kid through his paces already -- it was what he was doing with the kid right now, just with Ford listening in this time.)

"Doesn't do anything to keep me out of his personal 'Dreamscape’ still," the kid said. "Keeps everyone else out of everything; still 'leaks’ thought waves on the right frequencies for communication with other intelligent and semi-intelligent lifeforms so he doesn't get treated as furniture; I can still See him in the Mindscape in general. --It's functional!" the kid put out there at the last, sounding frustrated with him. "I do good work!"

Miz sighed. "If he'd actually thought about it, he’d have realized it sooner…" she muttered out, and Dipper paled. (Well, that explained how Great-Uncle Ford could hear Miz speak telepathically, but… oh, this wasn't good.)

And Ford…

Ford slowly put his head down on his knees. And let out a shaky laugh.

(Oh, Axolotl. He had a metal helmet wrapped around his head that operated on will, that worked on Will. That Will-- Bill-- _William_ , will-helm, had wanted him to have, to _wrap around his head_ , while their _Deal_ had been on, while Bill had thought they were _friends_ , and… Ford wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to laugh or to cry.)

"She owed _you_ a favor," Ford said quietly. " _She_ owed _you_."

"You almost DIED," Bill said huffily, sounding aggravated and almost aggrieved, and Ford dropped his head down further and wrapped his arms around and over it.

("Grunkle Ford…" Mabel said quietly. She got up and made her way hurriedly across the roof, to sit down right next to him, curled up against his side. Dipper was a little slower making his way over, and a lot more tentative sitting down next to him from his other side, but he did the same.)

"The Oracle's a demon." Miz pointed out helpfully(?). "Which is actually another difference between our dimensions, MY Jessie's not a demon." She seemed oddly proud of this fact.

"Bill," said Ford, not picking his forehead up off of his knees. "Is Jhselbraum a demon?" He sounded a bit strained. Miz rolled her eyes, right, don't listen to her at all. Just Bill. Always Bill.

And the kid… remained quiet.

Stan glanced over at the kid, and the kid was looking between him and Ford.

...And Stan saw the kid do that odd head-tilt twist-twitch thing he'd seen the kid do before with the niblings once or twice, when the kid wasn't sure if answering was gonna be considered a mental attack, and the kid actually caught it early. ...And answering whatever the thing was anyway had usually ended up really upsetting the kids.

Stan pulled in a breath, and let it out slowly when the kid just… settled. The kid didn't say anything.

"Ford, don't go askin’ the kid stuff like that," Stan said, trying to find the middle ground there, as he put a hand on his brother's shoulder. (He knew what his brother was doing: Ford didn't trust that any of them could always tell when Miz was lying, but Ford trusted that he himself could tell when _the kid_ did and didn't do it. But if Ford got an answer out of the kid on this right now… it'd just drive him nuts, because...) "There’s nothin’ you can do about any of that right now. C’mon…"

"..." Miz looked frustrated.

Dipper saw that, even from where he was sitting at his great-uncle's side, and he didn't even have to think about it before telling her clearly, "Stop." And Miz backed down, pouting.

Well, the Jhselbraum in this dimension was a Demon, and Miz thought that maybe Ford would have liked to know the truth of his situation. But apparently, knowing the truth would upset him? The dragon-demon huffed. "So you don't want me to lie, but the truth is no good either?"

"Not if it'll hurt people," Dipper said firmly.

Miz groaned and said sarcastically, "So, lie to make people happy, and then have people get mad at me for lying? Sounds fun~"

Dipper glared at her. "Or, just don't say anything."

"Tell the truth, or don't go jumping in," Stan elaborated on. Maybe she'd listen, or maybe she wouldn't. (She'd better.)

Miz sighed and flopped down on her blanket nest. "Because ignorance is bliss?" she asked. It didn’t sound like she liked the idea of that. "I mean, for some things, I can see how it’d be better. But he keeps bad mouthing demons as ALL being evil and then praising the Oracle, even though she’s one too…" Miz muttered to herself, looking like she wasn't actually meaning for them to hear and was just speaking to herself. (Stan grimaced, sending a look over at Bill, who just blinked at him. Hell, no ‘help’ there. Kid wasn't getting it.) Then Miz brightened and sat up. Well, if Ford was just scared about being possessed by Bill, then...

"Well, Brother’s NOT in the Mindscape right now. So…" Miz grinned, hoping that maybe this knowledge would make Ford feel better about his mental security.

"Not helping, Miz," Stan said, still looking at Ford as he rubbed his hand over his brother's shoulder. "And ignorance ain't bliss," Stan added, because letting that one go right now wouldn't do anything but get them in _even more_ trouble really damn soon, if the demon kid started acting on _that_. "But," Stan grimaced, then got to addressing the main problem with what she'd just done: "You sure _don't_ have to go runnin’ _right this second_. You're just breakin’ a whole bunch of other things, 'fixing’ somebody's ignorance in a way that _won't_ help them by hearin’ whatever it is right then, just hurt 'em instead." Because seriously? She couldn't keep whatever to herself for another two minutes here? At least? "It'll keep."

"... How close is she to the three-strikes rule, Bill," was what Ford quietly said next, and the kid… went still.

"......Who are we talking about, here," said the kid, very slowly, and Stan watched as Ford slowly raised his head up. (The kids exchanged a glance across Ford's chest.)

"Your 'Miz’," said Ford. "Jhelsebraum. Anyone who might be a concern."

The kid remained silent.

"Three-strikes rule," Stan repeated slowly, looking between the kid and his brother again. Because what the hell was this?

"Go on, Bill," Ford said quietly, but his voice aure carried, and there was just a bit of steel under it. "Define what a _demon_ is for Stanley. I _insist_." (Stan was looking between them again. He wasn't gonna stop them when they were actually talking almost, but...)

"Yeah. Tell me," Stan said to the kid after a moment. If this would help him understand what the hell was going on with Ford and the whole demon thing…

"Stanley…" the kid said warningly, not looking away from Ford, and he didn't look very happy with any of them at the moment. Stan glanced between them. Neither of them were looking like they were gonna stop their staring contest with each other anytime soon.

And Stan hesitated, for just a moment. "Kid, unless this causes some huge problem for you and me, or would break the agreement, tell me," Stan reiterated.

...That had the kid flicking his gaze over to _him_ for a minute, and looking even less happy with him. And then Bill looked away from him.

They all waited.

".........Demons come from the outside," Bill said finally, not looking back at any of them. Miz blinked slowly. Wait, but… Brother… Miz Flickered to try and find out more. Well… yeah, the Jhelsebraum in this world was a demon. Definitely. Died, came back the same again anyway, over and over again. That was the gist of it. But Bill wasn't quite a demon-demon. Not like this Jessie. He was...

...He was a triangle demon?

Miz didn't fully understand either way from what she'd been able to See so far, about what 'outside’ part Bill was talking about exactly, but she DID know that she _didn't_ like the look Ford had on his face right now. So she spoke up with, "This dimensional set has very different definitions for Demon than mine. In my set, Demon is a descriptor given to entities that exhibit certain chaotic or harmful qualities, and even then, the specifics are different from dimension to dimension." She spoke cheerfully, distractingly. Listen to this, this was a much more interesting topic! "So like, in one dimension a Demon was any entity that was capable of wide scale destruction, while in another, being a Demon was a 9 to 5 punchcard job where you torture the Souls of sinners." Miz's tail was out and wagging. "The guys there actually fanboyed over me, you know? I actually didn't realize the Demonic community hailed me as some kinda celebrity."

(The kids were sending her long tense looks.)

Miz frowned. "But I didn't like hanging around them because all they praised was my kills. They told me they admired how destructive I was." She winced. "It felt nice to be appreciated but I realized it probably wasn't a good thing. So I didn't become Friends with those people." She glanced around to see if anyone was going to take the bait...

"You done with your still _really_ not helpin’ here, Miz?" Stan asked Miz, not looking away from Bill and Ford. "Gonna keep diggin’ that hole?"

Miz hung her head. "Distraction failed…" She mumbled sadly. (That got her a hard look from both the younger twins.)

"Uh huh," said Stan. Then to Ford, for the kid's benefit, "You're really not gonna let this go right now, are ya, Ford."

"No," Ford said tersely. "Ask him to explain the outside to you." Stan watched the kid twitch in place.

\--Hell with it. "Kid, same thing as before, but define ‘outside’, instead," was what Stan ultimately responded to Bill with, with a sigh.

Miz twitched. The thoughts being practically screamed out right now from that Stanford were… confusing, but he seemed triumphant? Miz also noted that brother never defined what the ‘three strikes’ thing was all about. Strikes? Whatever it was, it shouldn’t affect her, she wasn’t FROM this dimensional set.

"Stanley," the kid said evenly, and the kid turned his gaze back towards him. "What Stanford is trying to get you to do, is to get me to try and talk about something that demons can't talk about without disappearing," was what Stan got out of the kid next. (That got Miz shaking in place. Brother could… disappear?)

Stan stared at the kid incredulously.

"He doesn’t know how it works," the kid told Stan next, picking up his staring contest with Ford again. "He doesn’t even know what 'it’ is."

To this, Ford got something of a thin smile.

(Dipper and Mabel glanced up at their great uncle, and Mabel hugged his side a little more closely. They both looked concerned, but didn't say anything, yet.)

"I knew you were doing _something_ to keep them from trying a fourth time," Ford said quietly. "I just didn't know _what_ , exactly."

(A fourth--?! --Son-of-a..., a _three-strikes_ rule?! For demons trying to do… _what_ to his brother?)

To this, the kid seemed to push himself back into his chair, and he rotated his shoulders as he rolled his eyes at Ford. The kids exchanged a long glance, communicating _something_.

"I’m NOT stupid," the kid repeated. "Unlike MOST idiots out there, _I_ don't talk up 'penalties’ I can't _back up!_ " The kid eyed Ford with a look that said, 'You know that…’

(A three-strikes rule. A three-strikes rule that had something to do with making other demons _stop_ doing something to his brother, that _the kid_ had been… --no, _was **still** enforcing_ somehow. Because Ford seemed to think... What the hell?)

Stan glanced between Ford and the kid. What he finally decided to say out loud was... "Ford, I thought you said demons keep coming back when you kill ‘em, no matter what…"

Ford looked almost smug. (Almost.) He also looked incredibly pissed off with the kid. "Oh, they come back again when they die or get killed. But whatever this ‘disappearing’ thing is that Bill does _isn't_ simply getting killed." Ford never moved his eyes away from Bill.

Stan glanced over at the kid. "...You jailin’ them somewhere or somethin’, kid?" If he was, then Stan would know how serious it was; he knew damn well how the kid felt about jails and prisons.

"No. Yes," said Bill. "If I was doing that, they could just drop dead to get out of it." The kid frowned as he looked over at Stan. "If you asked any one demon for specifics, and they could answer you, it would _sound_ like they were being sent back to jail, though." The kid frowned. "Demons just won't TELL you that."

"Better or worse than your old dimension," Stan said.

"--Worse," Bill said with zero reservation. "Hands down." The kid tilted his head at Ford. "Demons come here to have fun. Spoilsport."

Ford let out an odd sort of chuckle that put up the hairs on the back of Stan's neck (and had the kids staring up at him again, confused). It was the kind of thing he'd remembered hearing out of some of pa's old drinking buddies, some of the few who'd come back from the war in 'Nam like pa had. And they'd all had one thing in common, besides being "just" survivors…

"Too bad for them," Ford said quietly, with an edge to his tone that made Stan take a second look at his brother. A really good look. (...And it made Stan's heart sink, even as he carefully kept what he was feeling well off of his face.)

Stan pressed down on his brother's shoulder slightly, where he was holding on. Just a little.

Bill got the slightest of smiles.

"’Too bad for them’?" the kid repeated, then leaned forward slightly. "What makes you think you weren't doing exactly what I **wanted** you to do, _pawn?_ " was what Bill Cipher said just as quietly back.

Stan saw Ford's expression shift, and he caught the look before Ford suppressed it: it was pure rage.

He felt his brother tense under his hand, but Ford didn't jump to his feet this time, though. Didn't stalk over, didn't try anything. ...Didn't even reach for his guns.

"--Too far, kid," Stan said next. "Ford ain't anybody's pawn. Apologize. _Now._ "

(Stan didn't get what was going on here at all. Just that his brother and the kid were in some kind of stupid pissing contest with each other.)

The kid just eyed him. "He's not my pawn _anymore_ ," the kid said. (…which was probably the best Stan was gonna get out of the kid right now on that one, hell.) "I don't need him."

"--You talk like you aren't part of the group," Ford threw out at the kid, like it was a crackling shot across the bow. "Third person. 'They’, not 'we’." It left the kid looking as unimpressed as Stan had ever seen him.

"’They’, not 'it’," the kid said dryly. "‘It’ implies incorrect gender and sapience-level connotations for non-objects in your stupid native language."

"You're being _exclusitory,_ " Ford repeated. "You exclude _yourself_ from the description."

The niblings blinked at that, and were looking between them, and the kid practically bristled and verbally rounded on Ford for that. "Triangle. Demon." the kid said.

"You sleep," Ford said next.

"Dream demon!"

"You aren't actually a demon, are you," Ford said, bunching up his shoulders slightly, like he was gearing up for something. "It's just something of a self-chosen **titular** ‘ _descriptor_ ’ for you, as Miz puts it. Isn't it."

"I'm a demon when I want to be," the kid said in dangerous tones, eyes narrowing. "And I will ALWAYS COME BACK."

"Ford," damnit, "How many times I gotta tell ya that we're _not_ killing the kid with the circle or anything?" Stan said, wanting to smack the both of them upside their heads at this point. "Does any of this junk even matter?" Stan asked him in exasperation, shaking Ford's shoulder a little bit. "Don't you got a _house_ to watch?"

"Stan--" Ford turned his head to actually look at him (finally) and ground out at him with no small irritation, " _This_ is--"

"-- _What?_ " said Stan. "What is it, huh? How is any of this more important than that to you?" Stan said, letting go of Ford's shoulder to point over at the house. "--You're gettin’ all worked up about the kid's name, when kid's first language ain’t even English so he's gotta be _approximating_ it," Stan complained at him, because how had that even been a thing?

"Stan--" Ford started, straightening in place, but Stan wasn't having any of that.

"--And you're worried about metal plates that don't keep the kid outta your brain when he's outside his body when, what, the kid's only sitting _five feet away_ from you? And can just talk you in knots if you keep on talkin’ to him, so he don't need to just _climb right on in_ or whatever instead, to do _whatever_ it is you're so worried about?" His brother was staring at him, and Stan rubbed a hand over his face. "Which he _ain't_ gonna do, Ford, hell, we'll tell him to stop if he tries..."

"I--"

"And _who cares_ whether some fancy 'oracle’ you met one time way back _whenever_ was some kinda demon or not, anyway?" Stan said, because he was sick and tired of this stupid demon stuff, and Ford leaving stuff out like the kid being able to make demons gone! _For him!_ "This lady, she didn't mess with you then, right? And it ain't like you’re ever gonna see her again." Ford got quiet at that. "And _who cares_ if the kid's a demon or not, when it doesn't really matter, ‘cause you can't kill him dead for good either way, and _we ain't doing that!_ " Stan groused out at his brother next. "--Ford, what the heck does _any_ of this junk have to do with _anything_ that matters _at all_ right now?" Stan asked him, because he really wanted to know!

(Okay, so, maybe he didn't, but that was only because he didn't think his knucklehead of a brother _could_ explain, because there _wasn't_ one…)

Ford blinked at him again. And for some reason -- Stan didn't know what -- Ford was staring at him almost like he'd never seen him before.

" _Well?_ " Stan asked him. He didn’t take no answer from the kid on junk like this, and now? He was starting to think that maybe he shouldn't let his brother keep getting away with it, either.

So Stan grumpily stared him down.

"...I suppose you're right," Ford said after a long moment's pause.

"I-- well… uh," said Stan, deflating a little. "Yeah, I'm right," Stan blustered, but he couldn't help but frown. "You're getting all worked up over nothin’," Stan told him, not really sure if he was right about that now.

"Perhaps I am," Ford said without giving much away, and Stan eyed him for it with a deeper frown. ( _That_ wasn't giving up. ...Not that he was askin’ his brother to do that, but… he couldn't just _tell_ him what was goin’ on?)

Stan glanced down at Dipper and Mabel, but they sort of looked between each other and then glanced up at him almost apologetically. (Well okay, Mabel looked apologetic, not knowing what was what. Dipper was frowning at him slightly; not mad at him, but not real happy with him, either.)

Stan let out a breath and rubbed a hand across his mouth. He looked over at the kid and his demon-lady sister.

He _almost_ asked the kid how important he thought that Ford thought all this junk was. But he didn't. He knew that one already. Kid wouldn't have turned this junk all around on Ford if it wasn't. And what Stan really wanted to know was the _why_. But he wasn't gonna ask the _kid_ that; he'd ask his brother and get it out of him, or nobody at all. Ford had his reasons, even if Stan really wasn't so sure they were good ones...

After that whole debacle, everyone settled back down to watch the Pawnshop. There was still a tension in the air as the children glanced back and forth between their grunkles and Bill.

Dipper really wished he had something to write this all down in. Minutes passed with most of their group sitting vigil, while Miz tried to bring down the tension with a lighthearted game of pretend with the dolls. It didn't fully work but it did ease some of the stress in the air -- not for Ford, but at least it did a little for the rest of them.

Dipper was still trying to stay on target like Great-Uncle Ford, watching the pawnshop, and so was Mabel, but they were both getting bored.

When it hit close to thirty minutes of mostly silence, other than Miz's quiet play-chatter as Bill looked on and asked her the occasional doll-related question... Mabel gave Great-Uncle Ford a big hug, and sent Dipper a look before she started to get up.

Great-Uncle Ford caught her gently by the arm.

"What are you doing?" Great-Uncle Ford asked her, and Dipper shifted in place uneasily.

But Mabel just smiled at him and said, "I'm going to help keep Miz not bored." Great-Uncle Ford looked alarmed at this, but then Mabel said, "Grunkle Ford, we can help. Let us help? _Please?_ " And their Great-Uncle looked torn.

"She'll be fine, Ford," Grunkle Stan said next. "Hell, they've played together out on deck for hours before, with only the kid watching out for them."

Great-Uncle Ford shot Grunkle Stan a look at that. "That is _not_ reassuring, Stan--" he began.

"Ford, I've talked with the dragon-lady a lot," Stan said. "I'm pretty sure she'd chop off her own arms before hurting the kids. --And we're both sitting _right here_ watchin’ 'em," Grunkle Stan said next, cutting off Ford's next protest. "You trust me to handle the kid, Ford. You don't trust me _and_ the kid to be able to keep her coloring inside the lines if we've gotta?"

"I _don't_ trust Bill," was what Great-Uncle Ford said next. But Dipper saw him let go of Mabel's arm.

Mabel smiled at their Great-Uncle and gave him another hug. "It's okay!" she told them all, before she turned and bounded off towards Miz and her pillow and blanket pile.

Great-Uncle Ford looked uneasy still. Dipper looked up at him. "Demons seem to like her?" Dipper said, then winced at how bad that actually sounded out loud.

But Great-Uncle Ford just sighed and said, "That isn't a good thing, Dipper."

Dipper hunched his shoulders.

"Eh, could be worse," Grunkle Stan said with almost a chuckle, as he watched Mabel settle down with Miz and pick up a stuffed animal. Great-Uncle Ford actually turned away from the house to look over at him, as Dipper did, and gave Grunkle Stan a skeptical look.

Grunkle Stan turned to look over at them both He looked relaxed and kind of gave them a half-joking grin as he said, "They could really _really_ like her."

Great-Uncle Ford made a face at him.

They both turned to keep watching the house again, while Grunkle Stan kept watching Mabel and the two triangle demons. (Dipper kept sneaking glances back at them, though. Bill had quieted after Mabel had joined the 'play’ again, Dipper had noticed. Bill was just watching them again now. Had he been… trying to distract Miz before, too? That was... weird...)

It wasn't a couple minutes after that that Dipper really couldn't take it anymore. Maybe Mabel had the right idea: watching Miz and distracting her a bunch, to keep the demon-girl from getting bored and saying even more crazy stuff out loud that might hurt Great-Uncle Ford.

(And how bad was it, Dipper wondered, that he was a lot more worried about what Miz would say right now, than he was about Bill?

Dipper looked up at Great-Uncle Ford first, though. "Um… Great-Uncle Ford…?" His great uncle looked over at him, and Dipper let out a sigh of relief as he looked away again and gave him a half-shrug half-wave: Great-Uncle Ford didn’t look happy, but he wasn't going to stop him. He did look kind of tense, and tired.

Dipper hesitated and looked to Grunkle Stan. But Grunkle Stan just looked at him and nodded his head at his sister.

...Okay, so Grunkle Stan would stay with him and keep watching for anything messed up. That left Dipper feeling a little relieved, but also a little itchy and weird and wrong.

But Dipper didn't know how to fix things with Great Uncle Ford, or make it any better by sitting there with him. He was pretty sure he could help with Miz, though. (And if they could get more information out of _her_ , then maybe…)

So Dipper got up and moved in a little closer to Miz's nest, settling down at the edge of it as Mabel asked Miz, "How come you only have two human-shaped dolls?" while holding up a small ball-jointed doll. Miz held up the other one. "Well, these are Dolfies that I made myself. So I know they're safe. But… ah… I saw this scary movie about a serial killer who sent his soul inside a human-shaped doll and didn't really like them much ever since."

"Chickie?" Dipper asked, looking over. Miz nodded. Dipper paused. "You watch scary movies?" He stopped. "Of course you watch scary movies," he deadpanned. Then Dipper realized something else. "Wait, so you're afraid of human-shaped dolls?"

"... and mannequins. They're just kinda creepy." Miz shrugged, and Dipper stared.

"How are you afraid of things like _that_ and yet you're not afraid of--" He glanced over at Bill. Miz looked confused. Dipper wasn't sure how to put this in a way that wouldn't offend her. "But you…" Dipper glanced at Ford before muttering: "...do have your own version of the Nightmare Realm, right?"

"Well… yeah? I don't see your point?" Miz tilted her head to the side. "The Nightmares in there are soulless, mindless monsters. They're easy to deal with. But people? Specifically people that like to hurt other people? Who can pretend to be toys for children? That's scary." She paused. "And mannequins are just creepy as frick get out. No souls and not alive but they look like people and they might move when you're not looking even though they shouldn't be able to...", because Ax might fuck up and Soul a few of them just like he does with Chairs...

The twins glanced at each other. Mabel shrugged. Dipper nodded. He got up and carefully made his way across the various pillows and blankets to them (not wanting to trip and accidentally faceplant into any of it, since he wasn't so sure it was _that_ much of a cushion between him and the hard rooftop). He managed it without too much of an issue, and settled down right next to his sister, wishing once more that he had brought his journal with him. Miz looked over at him with interest, tail out and swishing side-to-side. Dipper figured that was as good an opening as he was gonna get.

"What are you afraid of?" Dipper asked Miz bluntly. _That_ caught Bill’s attention, because he immediately sat up and said:

"--Don't answer that."

Miz closed her mouth and nodded. Dipper groaned. "I'm just curious. It's not like I was--"

"--Fishing for weaknesses to exploit?" Bill drawled out, with an edge to his tone. Dipper looked down. Well, only a little.

"If we know, then we won't accidentally scare her?" Dipper put out there.

Bill, who was downright glaring at this point (clearly not trusting Dipper an inch on this one, that he was _only_ interested in _preventing_ ‘accidents’), started to respond--

\--but he was cut off by Miz, who nodded and said, "Then you should know this, for your own safety." (Bill started to chitter out a curse or two at the ‘Then you should know this’, but stopped and grimaced at the ‘for your own safety’. And because of the agreement, he vacillated a bit too long on how to best handle...) "I'm terrified of binding circles," Miz told them. "I go into a panic and my powers start attacking everything around me. My last panic attack killed a few people--" She choked a little. "--including my adopted daughter…" 

Everyone on the roof was staring at her now.

"What?!" Dipper gasped. (‘ _Adopted daughter? What??_ ’) Bill didn't look surprised, though. Stan noted that. So he had already known about this.

Bill looked Miz over for a moment, then got up from where he’d been sitting to make his way across the blanket-pillow pile. He walked right over to kneel down next to her.

"Do you need a hug?" Bill asked her (kind of knowing what she wanted a little better now, from their last few talks up in the attic).

Miz nodded and pressed herself against his side, not actually hugging him, but gripping a handful of his shirt. (Bill grimaced slightly at the clothing grip, but was able to somewhat-relax again after a moment or two, once he realized that that was all the grabbing she was going to do.)

Miz wilted in place, leaning into Bill and tearing up. "God, I still feel awful about that." She wiped at the tears already forming at the memory of it. "You're all lucky as hell that Ford didn't put me in a binding circle the last time I was here. Bad enough he put Seb in something like one, but if it had been me, and I'd woken up in one…"

Ford went very still next to Stan.

Bill looked a little grim. "I wouldn't have let that Stanford walk off with either of you last time, if I'd thought he might actually even have a chance of being able to hurt or bind either of you," Bill told Miz, placing a hand on top of her head. (He'd known from that first visit that they were hims-that-were-also-him. He wouldn’t have risked that sort of thing happening to them -- hadn’t Miz known that?)

Bill brought his head down a little closer to her own. "That Stanford knows how to create mystical barriers," Bill told her, "But all destroying your body would do inside one of those is pop you right outside of the edge of it, like slippery soap!" Bill looked over at Ford. "He doesn't know how to create any sort of working binding," he told Miz, looking back down at her. "I MADE SURE OF THAT," Bill intoned.

(‘ _What?_ ’ thought Ford, taken aback. Because what had Bill meant by _that?_ How could he have possibly _made sure_ of-- Ford glared. It wasn't as if he didn't know about--!)

" _No-one_ in this..." Bill grimaced slightly, "...in the-dimension-we-just-came-from knows how. I made sure of _that_ , too," he told her, trying to be reassuring. And Bill didn't like the idea that she might've thought otherwise. (He doubted that anyone in THIS dimension could possibly know how to do it either, but he was _ABSOLUTELY_ going to check and make _sure_ of that. And watch out for her carefully in the meantime…)

Miz nodded. "You're so smart… I never even considered just… not letting people learn to do that… I like seeing people learn stuff…" (Dipper and Mabel blinked. Oh right, Miz had wanted to be a teacher.)

"Most methods are easy to avoid and dodge, once you know how," Bill told her very seriously. "I’ll teach you before you go. The methods that are harder to handle… take a specialized sort of knowledge to put together. It’s hard to kill an idea," he told her, "But it’s easy to kill a person before that idea spreads, and burn everything they’ve ever thought of making to ash along with them," Bill said like he was talking about cleaning house, not _killing people_ for the ‘high crime’ of _knowing too much_. (Ford glared at him.)

"And when the idea is hard enough to discover in the first place..." Bill got a small not quite evil smile. "Misinformation may be difficult," (Ford’s glare deepened) and Bill didn't really like doing that anyway, it usually muddied the waters further and eventually splashed back on him, "But masking information with more information is MUCH easier! --Most don’t go looking for that sort of specialized information specifically, so if you make it easy for them to find something else that solves whatever their little problem is _better_ …" Bill said almost leadingly.

Miz pouted. "That feels like a waste. I like seeing how far they could go… just as long as their research doesn't hurt anyone."

Bill blinked down at her almost lazily. "A binding circle hurt _you_ ," he told her. Miz grumbled at that, because it was true and she felt kinda dumb.

"Hold up," Stan said, more worried about the other thing Miz had said. "What the heck _are_ binding circles, anyway?" Stan frowned. "Kid," he said to Bill. "Is this the same kind of thing as that anchor-thing on your back?" Ford had thought that before, but the kid had been adamant that...

Bill looked over at Stan. "No. An anchor is an anchor. A binding is different," Bill said neutrally.

"Right." Kid still didn’t really want to go there. Fine. "Miz, what do you mean, ‘your powers started attacking everything’?" Stan asked next. He needed to know what the hell had happened, and how bad it had been, to tell how dangerous it was for the kids to be around her right now. How the hell was he supposed to stop something like that from happening ( _again?_ shit) if he didn’t even know what the hell it was that he was supposed to be watching out for here, in the first place?

\--How safe or unsafe was it really for the kids to be around her? If she didn’t want to hurt the kids, that was one thing, but if she just had random panic attacks sometimes that she couldn’t stop or control, then what she wanted or didn’t want didn’t mean _squat_. --What the hell was he gonna need to do, to make sure the kids stayed safe around her? He glanced over at Bill, who was lightly stroking the top of his ‘little sister’s’ head, now. ...Shit. If the kid was trying to be comforting, this _had_ to be bad… (Damnit, if the kid knew about this shit before, why the hell hadn’t he said anything sooner--!)

"Ugh, it was so stupid. I was going to magic school with my daughter because I thought it would be fun," Miz told them. "Some kids were picking on me, don't know why, I think they were just assholes… and they thought it would hilarious to draw a binding circle in the hallway outside my dorm room…" Miz hugged herself. "I was stupid, wasn't paying attention, walked right into it. I don't remember much past that, just a lot of fear and screaming. One girl got turned inside out. My daughter jumped right in to smear the circle, break it, and I…" Her voice shook "...I killed her… I didn't mean to… and it just sucks because I keep trying so _hard_ not to hurt people by accident but…"

" _Shhhhh_ ," Bill said, sounding a bit more like a waterfall more than a shushing. He made another, longer stroking motion with his hand over top of Miz’s head. (Looking at his memories of people he’s Seen, humans did this sort of thing to help calm other humans; didn’t they?) " _Shhhhh_."

Stan didn’t know what the hell to say to any of that. --Other than: "Dipper, Mabel, cover your ears." (The way Miz was talking sounded like those war stories he’d overhead his Pa tell with some of his old ‘war buddies’ once, sneaking down the stairs to listen in on them in the kitchen. She had the same half-dead tone of voice going, almost.) The kids, already looking horrified, looked back at him in confusion and a total lack of understanding, but they raised their hands to their ears and didn’t argue when Stan said with quiet authority, " _Now_."

(Stan didn’t miss Bill’s questioning glance, and a slight gesture at his ear, and Stan nodded. He knew that Bill could-- and Bill made a slight flick of his hand at the kids. Some kinda silence spell, just in case. -- _Good._ Ford wouldn’t say ‘yes’ to that, and the kid knew that and hadn’t even tried. But he knew Stan could and would decide for the kids, and he damn well didn’t want the kids hearing any more of this junk, if it was gonna be anything like anything he’d heard in the attic about...)

Miz took a deep breath and continued talking, explaining, the words spilling out because ranting had always been her best method for venting her feelings. "My friends told me that it wasn't my fault. But my stupid PTSD is stupid and I hate losing control of myself like that." Miz mumbled into Bill's shirt. "So, please don't put me in a binding circle or try to bind me in any other way. I don't want to hurt any of you."

...Not ‘risk hurting’, just ‘hurt’. Stan got that one right away. --Okay, so this just sounded like only one thing they had to avoid, though, not a _bunch_ of junk he had to look out for, maybe. Not great, but better than it could be? (Hell, maybe Ford was right about ‘such lowered expectations as’ he had.) But Stan had to work with what he had, and… "PTSD?" Stan barely managed to keep his voice level. "What’s that?"

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," Ford said evenly. "Generally, it means someone went through something rather awful that makes them relive that awful moment again once a certain ‘trigger’ is flipped." (Ford had learned that one from the niblings. They’d brought it up after… well, after he’d been an absolute wreck after what Bill had told him on the porch. After the handcuffs. After…)

Ford pulled in a breath. "From what she’s describing here, I’d postulate that she would tell us that she had a bad experience with a Binding Circle before that event." Ford didn’t want to call the demon a liar outright. It was very realistic, the way she was acting -- and Ford was certain that it _had_ to be just an act -- but…

...even if she was lying, it would be in horrible taste to act that way towards _anyone_ claiming such an issue. (Not without absolute and undeniable proof that they were lying, and... that was hard to come by. It was best not to.) She might be a demon, but even if she was supposedly a ‘Bill Cipher’, there were things that were simply wrong to do, even to a demon.

(That said, Ford still remained highly skeptical of what she was saying. Causing PTSD in a demon shouldn't be possible, as far as Ford was aware, and she _was_ a demon ~~...of some sort?~~. And a binding circle -- a _working_ circle, done _correctly_ \-- from what he understood, should _not_ have been a problem.)

"Kid," Stan said roughly to Miz. "You don’t have to tell us what happened."

Miz trembled slightly but continued speaking anyway, shaking her head. "I need t-to explain _why_ this is important! S-so you’ll be careful and I won’t lose it around you." Because she ‘didn’t want to hurt _them_ ’, yeah. Stan grimaced, as Bill made that waterfall sound at her again.

(The kids were looking at each other, confused. They’d begun to realize that they _couldn’t_ hear anything that was being said. ...Probably a good thing that neither of ‘em could read lips.)

"One of my summoners back when I was younger had a binding circle specifically tailored for energy-type beings like me. The binding runes were staked right into my energy form. I couldn't move, I couldn't escape, and he said that he wanted my body… stupid idiot thought my vessel contained my powers, thought that taking my vessel would give him my powers..."

Stan froze at this. So did Ford. And Stan didn’t like where this was going _at all_.

(...And it was at that point that Ford realized that he'd never heard of a binding that worked on a demon who lived in the **Mindscape** , _specifically_. Anything he’d ever read about it had all referred to the use of some set of physical restrictions, in one form or another, at some stage in the process, and _this_ was...)

Unaware of the older twins’ reactions, since her face was still buried in Bill's shirt, Miz continued, voice shaking. "...so I h-had to pull each rune-stake out one b-by one and it hurt so bad and there were thousands of them but I wanted to escape, I _needed_ to, and it hurt so much I blacked out a few times and my consciousness kept scattering when I pulled the runes out because it hurt but I wasn't thinking clearly by that point and…"

" _Stop_ ," Bill said quietly, surprising both Stan and Ford. Miz closed her mouth and just trembled.

"I was so stupid," she whispered.

Bill sighed at her and continued to stroke the top of her head. "No. You were trapped. You wanted to get out. You tried to get out. That's what happens when you're trapped. You try to get out."

Stan swallowed hard at hearing that one. He _really_ didn’t like the implications of what Bill had just said. He caught Ford's eyes, and... even his brother looked horrified at hearing what Miz had gone through. ...Yeah, he’d damn well _better_ be. Stan remembered how Ford had laughed when he’d found out about the anchor on Bill’s back and thought Bill had been bound to him. If this was what Bill had meant about Ford not knowing what the _hell_ he’d been talking about, then...

"Kid," Stan asked Miz. "How can I help?" Because he didn’t really have a damn clue. ...Because finding her a therapist like she’d been talking about trying? Like hell that’d be enough for something like _this_ …

"I'll teach her how to get out," Bill said, continuing to stroke his little sister’s hair. "I'll teach her how not to get caught."

Miz took a shuddering breath. "It’s fine. It was a long time ago. And I’m more careful when I answer summonings now." She pressed in closer to Bill. "And my friends have been helping me get comfortable with hugging and physical affection… which helps."

Bill blinked down at her at that. "Hugs… help you? Get comfortable?" Bill asked her, confused. It didn’t really make sense to Bill; he wanted to make sure he was understanding her correctly.

"Having a touch, from someone I know and trust that they wouldn’t hurt me, helps to ground me. So that I don’t start feeling like everything is pain. So I know that sensations can be nice. That being held down can also be a comfortable feeling and NOT a scary one." Miz explained.

(Stan blinked. So... she was trying to do some kinda exposure therapy thing? Like Mabel had tossed at him with that water tower? Did Miz need a blindfold to talk herself into that? Or, uh, was the headband that cut out her emotion senses and junk enough? ...Eh, she hadn’t been doing that before with her family-friends, though; the headband was new.)

Bill thought about what Miz had said for nearly half a minute.

And the Bill slowly raised his arms and a bit stiffly, but carefully, curled them around her, until he had a not-quite snug hold around her midsection. Miz sighed and relaxed into his side, which left him blinking multiple times in rapid succession.

(Stan watched the two of the demon-kids doing this together. ...Whatever worked, Stan figured. Probably good for the kid, too. Get him a little more used to touch at all...)

Dipper and Mabel stared at this.

"I'll still teach you how to get out," Bill told her. Miz nodded.

There was a bit of a pause, as Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other, and at Ford, and then crawled their way out of the nest of pillows and blankets and junk. (They hadn’t been able to hear anything, but they could see them all and read the mood. ...Well, okay, Mabel had been the one to tug at Dipper’s sleeve, but they were doing what they needed to do.) ...Yeah, Stan figured that that was a good idea. He’d been about to wave them over. Let the kid handle this for now. Because Stan still needed to ask...

"...Is the summoner dead?" Bill asked her next, far _far_ too casually for ‘casual’ to be an actual thing, and it left Stan almost wincing. (He did _not_ want to know what vindictive looked like on the kid. That was a thing he could go without knowing.)

"Yeah. He’s long dead." Miz’s voice was slightly muffled into Bill’s shirt.

"GOOD." Bill’s eyelids drooped low, and Stan’s next worry was… the kid wasn’t going to do something stupidly overkill, was he? ...But then the kid let out a slow breath and seemed to start looking a bit more normal for… well, _him_ again. (Stan realized he was gonna have to talk with the kid about this later. Kid had talked about it being stupid, not letting things things go after a death, but Stan figured it’d probably be a good idea to get an ‘official no’ out of the kid on this one. Looked like having a little sister get hurt might be one of those ‘exceptions’ to the kid’s usual ‘rule’ on that stuff...)

"You shouldn’t talk about this junk if it hurts you all over again, Miz," Stan told her.

Miz shook her head. "No, I need to." She insisted.

"--The hell you do," Stan ground out at her. "The hell kind of sense does that make, anyway? You either trust us enough to not do it when you tell us it’s a problem, or you don’t. How’s talkin’ about it make it any better?" Stan damn well didn’t talk about his shit with the mob with anyone else. He’d feel like shit if he did. (Probably have the kids look at him like he was three kinds of idiot for fallin’ for any of it in the first place. ...Or have them looking sad at him, which would be even worse.)

Miz took another shaking inhale. "Because if I let it out and talk about it instead of keeping it bottled up, I’ll eventually feel better. Like a catharsis." And part of her was sure that Stanford might be dumb enough to actually test her on this for some stupid reason unless she made it very clear why he shouldn’t try that on her.

Stan rubbed a hand across his face. He wasn’t so sure about that one himself. Catharsis, nothing.

Miz relaxed a little more. "And I _have_ gotten better. I'm not a screaming mess anymore. That's improvement, right?" Miz shook her head. "It's fine. I just need a minute…"

And after about a minute, she did slowly pull away from Bill (who pulled his arms away from her _immediately_ , as soon as she began trying to move away) and she wiped at her eyes.

"Can we change the subject?" Miz asked. (Stan winced a little, because he still needed to ask…)

"...How did your summoner die?" Ford asked quietly but firmly. "The one who bound you?" Stan turned in place to glare at Ford, but his brother was staring holes in Miz like he’d just ask her again and again and again if she didn’t answer him now. (Bill was giving Ford a long, flat look.)

Miz whimpered. "He actually killed himself to free me from the circle once he realized what I was doing. He kept telling me to stop tearing myself apart trying to escape." She shuddered. "I don't understand why he did it. He went through all that effort to catch me… and then he just… offs himself to stop me from hurting myself? I still don't really understand…"

Ford sat back on his heels. That clearly hadn't been what he’d been expecting to hear. ...Hell, he’d probably thought she had killed her summoner once she got free. Stan rubbed a hand over his face again. (And Ford seemed suspicious as hell at what he’d just heard Miz say. Right. ...Hell, maybe Stan should be counting his blessings that at least his brother had enough common sense not to call her a liar to her face on any of this.)

The fact that Miz didn't know or understand why her summoner killed himself didn’t make Stan suspicious. She’d said she’d been in and out of consciousness, and the rest of the junk sounded horrible. Made more sense that she didn't have all the answers and didn't fully understand what had happened to her; Stan would’ve been more suspicious if she _had_.

"Yeah, we’re not talking about this any more _ever_ , got it?" Stan grunted. Miz nodded.

"Can I watch an anime?" she asked quietly.

It didn’t get past Stan that this was the second time she'd wanted to do that here. And she’d been watching that stuff at least twice in the attic with Bill, right? And had a whole conversation thing with Soos about it that one night at dinner. ...Guess she really liked that stuff, huh. Stan wondered if she had used it as a distraction, to keep from thinkin’ about horrible stuff like this, all the years she'd been living as a triangle demon or whatever.

(...And hey, didn't she say that the reason she’d decided she wouldn't harm any humans was because she hoped they would create more entertainment for her? Stan let out a sigh. He guessed tossing TV shows at her head to try and keep her happy was a hell of a lot better than her tryin’ to wreck the place with a Weirdwhatchamacallit, and laughing at their 'entertaining' flailing and screams.)

(...Eh, as long as she wasn’t causin’ trouble for his family and trying to hurt them, that went a long way in Stan's book. ...Even if some of the stuff she tried to pull made him want to punch her in the face sometimes. --If watchin’ this stuff kept her distracted from shit like that PTSD stuff too, that was just fine. Keep her busy with stuff that wasn't messing with his brother; she seemed to do pretty okay with the kids.)

Stan (and Ford) also noticed how Miz seemed to be consistently turning to Stan for permission before she did things. Stan was a little surprised; he’d thought that she would look to Bill for that more than him, but even when she asked Bill first, she usually looked to him for a final ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Ford looked incredulous at seeing this yet again. (Why did the demons seem to listen to _Stanley?_ What possible purpose could it serve them to continue to play along with him like this?)

"Kid, if you wanna watch something, that’s fine," Stan grunted out at her, "But I gotta ask you something else, first. --None of this catharsis-details junk though, yeah? I just need to know what other stuff might make you panic, same as the binding circles." He should’ve asked her about this kinda stuff sooner, but he honestly hadn’t thought of it. The kid was all about control; Stan had just thought that the dragon-lady was only younger and maybe just a little more impulsive than the kid was, not actually that much worse at control and even less careful about things. (...Maybe he should’ve thought of it, though, after the whole thing with the headband and the emotions thing. Hell.)

Bill gave him a long, hard glare at this.

"Kid, I _gotta_ know," Stan said to him. "If there’s stuff that sets her off, and she can’t control herself--" Stan gritted his teeth as Bill let out an ugly angry chittering sound at him, then picked up what he’d been saying before the interruption. "-- _I gotta know_ , and _you_ gotta know, too. She don’t want to hurt the kids, and we _both_ need to know for the agreement. To keep the kids from getting hurt or killed," Stan ground out at the kid, who looked downright furious at him. " _And to keep her from getting hurt, too._ "

The kid still looked angry as hell with him, but… the kid just sat there breathing and looking angry. He _didn’t_ tell Stan off any further for it. ...And that in itself was telling to Stan.

But Stan knew well enough by now that silence from the kid _wasn't_ assent. It was just a waiting game, waiting to see what he'd do next. --Waiting to see if he needed to **attack** him in response to a threat, and only _probably_ 'just’ with words, since the kid's little sister was in the mix this time, being the one threatened...

"Kid, if you think I’m gonna try to hurt her, just because she’s your sister, you might as well say you don’t trust me and kill me right now," Stan told the kid bluntly. He heard a soft choked noise from Ford next to him, and saw the startled and worried looks from the niblings at his sides. (They couldn’t hear any of what they were saying, but they _had_ seen how their great-uncle had just reacted to whatever Grunkle Stan had said, sitting bolt upright and going pale and looking scared--)

...and he got a long slow blink from the kid as the ancient alien space wizard digested this information.

"Even Ford isn’t gonna pull this kind of shit with her," Stan said. "He ain’t that stupid." (Ford sent a glare his way. ...Well, tough. He was speaking to the kid right now, trying to get him to understand him; this was insane-triangle-talk, not normal-people-speech. Ford should know that; Stan had told him about this kind of thing before…)

Miz herself looked skeptical at Stan's words, which made Ford frown at her. Did she really think he was _that_ stupid?!

Bill glared at him, then Ford, then him again, and he didn’t look all that happy with him, or the state of life and things in general. But the kid looked away from Stan first.

Yeah, no. Stan wasn’t playing this game with the kid. "You trust me to try and keep anybody from doing something stupid to your kid sister and maybe panicking her? Or no." Stan kept up his own stare.

Bill grimaced. He shifted from side-to-side where he was sitting. His breathing increased.

"...Kid," Stan said, pushing him. He knew if he didn’t, the kid would just try and draw it out forever. "You trust me on this? Or not." (Kid had trusted him out on the porch, for no damn good reason. Trusting him with a sister might be a stretch for the kid beyond that, but it wasn’t like she was completely helpless herself. This wasn't all just on the kid. Miz was being strangely quiet about all this, though, watching Stan and Bill interact with a curious gaze. She seemed good with leaving things to her big brother, at least for now, while Stan was trying to work things out.)

The kid looked more and more agitated, leaning in closer to his little sister, almost like he thought the proximity might keep his dragon-lady used-to-be-human triangle-demon sister _more safe_ from them. (...Or maybe the kid just felt that way without realizing it. Stan wasn’t too sure where the boundaries were on the kid and some of his physical reactions at this point. Stan had managed to convince him to go pretty low down into that body of his, finally. Kid might actually be giving away things he didn't even realize he felt at this point.)

"Help me help you help _her_ , kid," Stan tried next. "I can't do that if I don’t know what I’m needin’ to be looking out for, before someone--"

"-- _Fine,_ " the kid spat out finally, looking over then away from him again. He looked pissed. Arms crossed, shoulders hunched a little bit, glower in place -- the whole nine.

Stan just nodded once, as he let out a slow breath through his nose. "Okay. Good," Stan told the kid. "--You’re on my side, kid," he reminded the kid. "I got your back. Family’s part of the package. You know that, right?" he told the kid.

Bill twitched in place, almost strongly enough to be a flinch, and looked about to object about something there, but after a long moment of self-struggle, he managed to tamp down on _whatever_ it was he was having a problem with there, and pull it back in. ...Yeah, Stan knew he was gonna have to have another conversation with the kid there at some point soon, when nobody else and his brother were listening in on the two of them.

Stan pulled in another slow breath and turned back to Miz. "Kid?" he asked her. "You wanna tell me what else I've gotta look out for you, here?"

Miz glanced from her big brother to Stan, and blinked slowly before responding. "I don’t like cars. It’s not… as bad as a binding, it just makes me uncomfortable and upset. I don’t _think_ I’d panic over it, just cry a bit. But I haven’t tested that and don’t plan to do so." She shuffled in place, looking almost… embarrassed.

Stan raised an eyebrow. That was… kind of random. "Why cars?" Stan couldn’t help but ask.

"Because that was how I died." Miz said pulling at the blankets around her.

It took Stan a few seconds to put that together. "Okay," Stan said. He didn’t need all the details. Didn’t want a repeat of her reliving her way through some bullshit like before with the binding circle stake thing. (Like he’d said, that didn’t help nobody. Cathartic _nothin’_.) "...We talkin’ being around them? In them? The _idea_ of them? --You seemed fine on the sidewalks earlier," Stan put out there, trying to get a feel for this without her having to be too specific about all the whys of stuff.

Miz nodded again. "I’m fine with cars existing, I just don’t want to be near or inside them."

"Okay," Stan said. "Good to know that you don’t like riding in cars," Stan said easily enough. "I won’t ask ya to go to the grocery store with me then, or offer to drive you to town, once we get back. And we won’t use taxis or buses or nothin’ while we’re here," Stan added.

Miz blinked up at him before smiling. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Don’t _thank_ me for tryin’ to keep you from having a panic attack, kid, hell. Ain’t that hard to work around." Didn’t seem like a big deal to him. (Well, not having her accidentally kill somebody was, sure, but the whole not driving her around places thing?) "Not like I’m gonna try and buy or, uh, ‘borrow’ a car when we’re only gonna be here another day." Because it wasn’t like that made a hell of a lot of sense. They didn’t need one, for starters. Stan thought for a moment. "We can stick to mostly the boardwalk while we’re here, or the rooftops, if even just bein’ on the sidewalks with the cars going by is that bad for ya, too. ...Is it?" Stan asked her.

Miz thought about it. "Well, the cars back in this time period aren’t as bad. I should be okay with them being nearby, they’re not as fast or loud. And as long as I don’t have to be in them, I’m good."

Okay. That one didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense to him, but whatever. He was pretty sure that the cars back then (...now?) were a lot _louder_ , not quieter, and he wasn’t too sure that her idea of ‘aren’t as bad’ and his were the same thing, either. He couldn’t do anything about the noise, but... "Define ‘nearby’?" Stan asked her next. "Just so I know?"

"The sidewalk is fine. That’s a good amount of distance."

"Okay. You walk on the building side when we have to do it, though, yeah?" Stan said to her, because they probably would have to at some point. Miz nodded. "Okay." Good. That made things a little easier. They could still use the rooftops and back alleys a bit more than usual. Not a problem.

Stan looked at her, to make sure she wasn’t just trying to act like stuff was gonna be fine when it wasn’t (and it looked to him like she wasn’t), and then Stan asked, "Anything else that might make you panic or feel, uh, ‘uncomfortable and upset’?" opening it up a little more, using her own words for stuff. He didn’t want to miss something that could be a major problem later, just because of some dumb communication issue.

Miz seemed to think about it a little before responding, "Getting held down by my wrists. It’s similar to being bound… sort of." She looked even more embarrassed by this.

Stan damn near froze in place for a moment. He looked over at Bill for a second, who looked confused and worried (hell, the _kid_ hadn’t known that one? Shit. Shit shit shit--), then Stan said to Miz, "We’re probably gonna need to tell the kids that one. Mabel likes grabbing people by the hand and dragging them off--"

"--Holding hands is fine!" Miz said in a rush. "Just… I don’t like people pulling me down and holding me there, where I can’t move."

Stan pulled in a long slow breath. (He… _really_ didn’t want to know how that one had become a problem for her.)

"...Were the bracelets uncomfortable?" the kid said slowly next, then his eyes jittered sideways slightly and he went a little pale. "--I can make them anklets. Or armlets." (Bill had just realized that the metal could be easily fused together at a distance, and then pulled down by a magnet or similar by the magnets incorporated inside them, which would mean that Miz _could_ be pulled and held down by the wrists by them, down to a _metallic_ floor--)

Miz rubbed at her wrists. "They were a little uncomfortable… but i-it wasn’t too bad. I was putting them on, so I knew they were going to be on me, and I could take them off--" She didn’t want to trouble them any more than she already was.

The kid grimaced. "They aren’t safe," the kid said without elaborating. "Not if--" the kid cut himself off. "I’ll… make something of thick plastic instead. Edges of the clothing-sleeves. Not--" the kid looked frustrated.

"It’s fine, kid," Stan told him. "You’ve got time. No weirdness barriers here that she needs to be able to get under to be staying with you. Yeah? You can talk it out with her and me, figure out something safe that won’t make her feel even a little bit ‘uncomfortable’." ... Aaaand the kid wasn’t even looking at him, too busy thinking about who the hell knew what. (Probably how he was gonna try and fix the bracelets.) "Kid." Still nothing. " _Bill_."

Bill finally lifted his gaze up to him, and Stan caught it and held Bill’s gaze with his eyes.

"This is the kinda thing I needed to know," Stan told him, flat out -- because as far as Stan was concerned, it needed to be said. He needed to make it clear that... "This is an agreement thing, kid. She's your sister; family gets covered," Stan repeated. "If you want your sister to be able to be around the rest of us safely, without _anybody_ getting hurt or breaking the agreement…" Stan sighed. "Look, if Miz fell asleep someplace with Mabel in town, running off exploring with each other together, and I came to pick ‘em up and carried her into some taxicab to get ‘em both back to the beach here myself…" Stan trailed off, letting that sink in for awhile.

The kid seemed to understand him -- kid wasn’t happy, but he got it.

"I can’t help you two figure out something better than those bracelets, or anything else, without knowing where the problems are, and what they are," Stan elaborated. "And I can’t ride Ford to keep him from doing something stupid, or warn the kids to keep ‘em out of trouble, if there’s something like that that I don’t know about, either."

The kid let out an unhappy huff of breath at that, as Stan turned back to Miz. "Anything else I need to know?" Stan asked her. "I don’t care if you think it’s embarrassing. I can’t _help_ if I don’t _know_ ," Stan told her staunchly.

Bill was giving him a long look that Stan didn’t really get, and didn’t have the time to get right now. (So was Ford.) He needed to focus on Miz right now. (He’d handle whatever else was up with the kid and Ford later.)

Miz was deep in thought, frowning. "...I guess, just don’t try to surprise me with sudden loud sounds, getting startled is a thing, not too bad, but I guess you’d want to know anyway?"

"Kid’s here, and I’m here. You trust us to look out for you enough to maybe do something to that headband of yours, to keep yourself from startling at loud stuff so bad that you might do something stupid?" Stan asked her. "Make the ‘sudden’ too-‘loud’ stuff quieter maybe?" Mabel could startle the hell out of him sometimes, without even meaning to. He didn’t want to think of what might happen if...

Miz glanced between the two of them before nodding. "Okay."

Stan nodded at her. "Anything else?" he asked. "Anything."

"Nothing comes to mind. I think by this point it’s just the normal stuff like, don’t drug me with aphrodisiacs or things like that." Miz shrugged.

Stan winced. "Yeah, okay. Pretty sure none of _us_ is that stupid. Or that horrible." He glanced over at Ford, who grimaced (and held down a shudder at the very thought). "Thanks for telling me. And my brother," Stan added, because that was a thing. (Bill sent a long look Ford’s way, at that.)

Now that _that_ was settled, Stan leaned back a bit and tried to relax again. (Kinda hard after hearing all that shit, but...) He glanced over at Bill, "Undo the silence thing, yeah?" and the kid tilted his head and made a twitching motion with his hand. "Thanks, kid." Stan knew the second it stopped working, because Dipper and Mabel blinked suddenly and looked between them all. (They’d dropped their hands away from their ears awhile ago, once they’d realized it made no difference.)

Ford grimaced. He didn’t like that Stan had effectively asked Bill to cast magic on the niblings earlier. Stan could have had no way of knowing what exactly had been cast, or if it was really _only_ what he’d wanted. ...Or if Bill would have understood correctly _what_ Stan had wanted the demon to do. (...And wasn't that a scary thought. Why had Bill done that for Stan? Bill had been acting--)

And then Ford frowned, because Bill had been… earlier, when they'd first gotten here...

Ford slowly turned his head towards his brother, and sent a long look Stan’s way.

"...Is it safe to listen now?" Dipper asked carefully, just to be sure. He glanced back at Bill. (Had that thing Bill had just done been kind of like what he’d done to Grunkle Stan’s bed? He’d heard stuff like the wind, and the cars and things, but no voices at all. He hadn't really liked getting stuff cast on him without his permission, but he and Mabel had both seen how their grunkle and great-uncle had reacted to what Miz had said when they couldn't hear her, and...)

"Yeah. We’re finished talking about this." Stan said heavily, looking tired. He glanced over at Miz. "Y'know, if you still want to do that ‘anime’ cartoon stuff, then..." Stan shrugged at her.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Their Great-Uncle Ford was still staring at Miz with a strained, uneasy and slightly-distressed look. Bill looked a little stressed, but less than he had before they’d stopped being able to hear things. Grunkle Stan just looked tired and grumpy. And Miz herself had already flopped back on her back, and was waving her hands around to create another Screen to project the show onto above her.

"Do you guys want to continue watching Fruits Basket?" Miz asked Mabel.

"Okay," the other girl nodded, and so did Dipper (a little more tentatively). "Can I borrow one of your dolls?" Mabel asked carefully, as she shuffled over to lie upside-down on top of a bean bag chair at the edge of Miz’s pillow-blanket play area. (Dipper pulled over another one for himself, to set it up next to his sister’s.) But neither of them got any closer than that.

(They were both a little worried about getting too close right away without knowing what was going on, after the whole ‘panic attack’ thing Miz had been talking to their Grunkles about. Bill had been looking agitated, Miz had said _something_ about hugs helping with something -- if there was one thing Mabel could lip-read, it was the word ‘hug’! But even _Bill_ had seemed to be being careful about touching her when actually _giving_ her that hug, so...)

"Yeah. That’s fine," Miz told her, as she laid down in her own ‘nest’ of pillows, picking up and clutching at a very worn and faded orange teddy bear. The fabric was a little dirty and there were loose threads coming off it. It looked old and somewhat squished. Thinking about what Miz said about how some of these dolls were based on her memories of stuff she had had as a human, Stan figured this one was probably from her human life.

Bill picked up a stuffed animal nearby, seemingly at random, and tossed it to the edge of the pillow nest, for Mabel to lean over and pick up herself. (That got him a glance from both twins.) Miz rolled her eyes and huffed though. "I’m not THAT delicate." She had that embarrassed look on her face again.

Miz put on the continuation of the episode they left off at, and Stan blinked at the colorful pictures and soft music. ...Well, time to see what sorts of shows that Miz liked to watch. (Hey, maybe if it was sci-fi enough, he could try and distract the nerd owl with it.) And yeah, maybe he ran the risk of Soos trying to drag him into those weird conversations at the dinner table if he watched this with her, but he also wanted to make sure that this ‘anime’ was okay for the niblings to be watching, too. --Besides, if he was lucky, maybe it might be another Ducktective? Stan groaned a little as he pushed himself up out of the beanbag chair, then grabbed it and moved it over a little closer in so that he could see the screen.

Bill stayed right where he was sitting, in the middle of Miz’s pillow-nest, right next to her. He did slowly lay himself down flat after awhile, and let out a breath as Miz pushed herself up against his side. (This was fine. He’d figure out the hugging that she wanted better, later.)

Ford glanced over at them all, but he didn’t comment. (The niblings were out of arm’s reach, at least, and Stan was right there with them, ready and able to pull them away to the side if he needed to. ~~Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else that could be done at that point, really. Not when things were as they were... and Ford couldn't do a damn thing about it. Because Ford didn’t doubt that Bill could likely cast more than a few spells at a distance, possibly even out of line’s sight, if the demon(??) thought of it and wanted to make them suffer…~~ )

~~(If Bill really was going to continue to play whatever game this was with Stanley, then perhaps he shouldn't interfere too much. If he let Stan try to handle things himself, within this game of Bill's, however long Stan might be able to make it ‘interesting’ and ‘fun’ enough for Bill to not get bored enough with it to end it, to make it last for at least a little while longer… If all he himself could do was watch, and wait… No, there had to be _something_ he could do. He just had to remain vigilant, to stop and think, to wait for a chance to...)~~

~~(...to _what?_ What could he possibly _do_ here, to--)~~

One thing was for certain, though, which Mabel had been quite right about -- Ford wasn’t _about_ to hand either Bill or this ‘Miz’ a ready-made excuse to lash out at _any_ of them and kill them all, in the form of an ‘oh, I was suffering from a panic attack’! He wasn’t an idiot. And it wasn’t as though most of it would be hard to avoid; some of what the demon had said was nearly esoteric. ...If Stan didn’t tell the niblings what to ‘avoid’ come morning -- pushing Miz into cars, grabbing her by the wrists (and apparently forcing her to the ground on top of that), and binding circles that none of them (apparently) knew how to (properly) set up anyway -- Ford would tell Dipper and Mabel himself.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My AN:**  
>  Mizuuma's AN is a little more personal. If you want to see it, [go to Miz's fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/43381469#chapter_87_endnotes).


	9. Chapter 78: Here, have a head that's always screaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> In which MizBill couldn't help but slip into a rant about gender roles and BlueBill resolves to get Stan what he wants...while waiting for that Stanford to get knocked off his high horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 88 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/43463705). It was first posted on Apr 15, 2019.

\----

Ten minutes into this Fruits Basket ‘anime’ show thing, and Stan was already staring at the screen incredulously. ...Was _this_ where Miz had gotten the idea that talking about her feelings would help make her feel better? The show was about a bunch of sad people talking about their feelings and then having the main character comfort them with some cheesy thing about how everyone was special and how everyone had someone out there who loved them. Geez...

From what he'd seen so far, the cartoon was really kind of… cheesy overall, but Stan still relaxed into the comfortable bean bag chair and kept on watching it. Okay, and kind of dramatic, sure, but… mostly cheesy. Stan really couldn't think of a better word for it. Because watching someone straight-out tell somebody else that they were loved and actually seem to really _mean_ it was… Huh. ...Yeah, okay, Stan could see why Miz liked this show.

What was _really_ weird about the whole thing was that the kid seemed to be watching the show just as seriously as he was, too. Which was pretty seriously. ...Didn’t seem to be enjoying it like the kids were (there was a lot of light frowning and some grimacing from time to time going on with the kid), but the kid _was_ watching it, and the kid _wasn't_ doing anything even a little bit _like_ complaining.

Stan let out a sigh. It figured. Kid really would do just about anything for his little sis, huh? Even watch cheesy, weird shows with her that she wanted to watch, without complaining...

The next episode started and Stan actually snorted when a new character showed up. A distant cousin who was apparently in love with one of the boys and showed her ‘affection’ through hilarious, over the top violence? Sign him up for watching that! The show was clearly playing it for laughs, though, and the boy seemed to recover from any ‘injuries’ near instantly. Kinda reminded him of Zany Tunes. ...Heh. Weird show.

"Aw…" Mabel sighed. "So, if Tohru gets together with Kyo in the end, who does Kagura marry?" She glanced over at Miz, who was frowning.

"I don’t think she ends up with anyone…" Miz said, "But her character arc was never about romance. It was about learning to forgive herself for betraying Kyo when they were children."

"--Spoilers!" Dipper cried out. He didn't want what actual plot there was just ruined for him! The girls glanced over at him.

"I thought you said this was a ‘boring, girly show’ that you didn’t really care for?" Mabel teased.

Dipper flushed and pulled his hat down. "It’s not as bad as Dream Boys High," he muttered. The girls giggled at him.

"Aww~ you like it~" the two girls chorused. Dipper groaned.

Stan let out a laugh, always ready for another round of ‘teasing Dipper’.

"What’s wrong with Pine Tree liking it?" Bill asked almost lazily. He caught the teasing, but he didn’t really get _why_ it was funny? (He wanted to know…(!) ...And was this a mental attack that he should be stopping because of the agreement? Or wasn't it? _Stanley_ wasn’t doing anything about it… or maybe he was doing something, just not ‘about it’. Stanley had just laughed, so… probably not.)

Miz sighed. "Well, it’s not a problem except for the fact that HE thinks it is. There’s nothing wrong with him liking it, but he thinks that _boys_ shouldn’t like cute girly stuff like this, so he feel embarrassed at himself for enjoying it."

"Why is it girly?" Bill asked next, turning his head to look over at her. (The kids exchanged a glance.)

"Because the show is about people talking about their feelings, crying, drama..." Miz told him. "Learning about how to get over their own issues through the love and support of others instead of fighting on alone like some kinda loner… though I suppose that depends on the plot and setting…" Miz muttered. "And it’s also girly because there aren’t any ‘manly’ things like defeating a bad guy through violence, and a lot of romance and high school drama instead! Which is stupid, because those aren’t even something inherently ‘only for’ men or women. But human society seems to think something like this is important, even though it’s not." Miz shrugged. The distinction between the Shounen and Shoujo genres was always pretty arbitrary, in her opinion. "One of my sisters was always embarrassed about enjoying Kare Kano, because it was a Shoujo series, back when she still thought she was a guy…"

(Dipper winced at the ‘still thought she was a guy’ comment, even though he tried not to. But Mabel took it completely in stride, as did Stan.)

Ford was trying to focus on watching the pawnshop but couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. --What were they watching? Something like that ‘Duchess Approves’ movie that Stan liked so much? It sounded kind of like that, from what Miz had just said. ...And _Bill_ was asking _questions_ about things? (He was too distracted by Bill _asking questions_ to really pay much attention to Miz’s comment about her sister.)

Bill frowned. "...Define ‘girly’?" Bill asked of his used-to-be-human little sister, just having become more and more confused, the more Miz had talked. Wasn’t that supposed to be makeup and sleepovers and talking about boys when Shooting Star meant it? Had he gotten that wrong? Or did Miz have a different definition of 'girly’ than Shooting Star did? ...It sounded like she did. "And why does that mean the show isn’t ‘manly’? Isn’t it both? Most of the characters are boys, and there _is_ a lot of fighting and violence! That ‘cat’ and that ‘rat’ keep fighting each other with violence for minutes, several times!" At least, they had for each and every of the grand total of two episodes he’d watched with her so far.

Ford suppressed a grimace. -- _Again?_ What was Bill up to now? How could the dream demon _possibly_ **not** know the definition of-- and _why_ was Bill acting like--?!

"Well for this show in particular, it counts as a girly shoujo series because of the themes, plot, character types, art style…" Miz frowned in thought. "It's hard to explain. Humans are weird. And the distinction between what makes something girly or manly is kinda complicated. But in this case it’s like, if someone is ok with talking about their emotions, feeling things and relying on others to support and help you, they are ‘too weak to be able to do it by themselves’ and therefore, it’s something that ‘girls’ and ‘women’ do because they need support to function, whereas being manly would be being able to do things by themselves without help. Because ‘men’ are supposed to be independent, relying on just themselves and being all stoic and distant with their ‘feelings’." Miz scoffed. "That’s why a lot of human males are really messed up, because they’ve been told all their lives that to be a ‘man’ is to deny themselves the ability to be vulnerable. Which isn’t true, but they misunderstand and start building their own self esteem on that sort of ideal, and then try too hard to live up to them."

Bill blinked at Miz. (Ford found himself suppressing a frown. Because that was _not_ a proper definition of either term--)

Bill looked over at Shooting Star and Pine Tree, who just sort of exchanged a look, before Pine Tree shrugged at him. (No help there.)

Then Bill turned his head away from the girls on the roof and said, "...Stanley?" the way most people said ‘...Help?’

(...To which Ford did a mental facepalm. Not _least_ of which because Ford did not quite trust that his brother, who apparently thought _switching bodies with a woman_ was an interesting ‘ _nerdy thought experiment_ ’ for a guy, would be able to--)

"Uh," said Stan, feeling a little blindsided at all of this stuff that had just… come at him from out of nowhere. "Maybe just… think about how Manly Dan does stuff. That’s ‘manly’. And, uh, other ways of doing that stuff are ‘womanly’." Stan really wasn’t sure about half the stuff Miz had just said himself. Most of it sounded kinda dumb. (Was that was most kids these days thought being manly was? Relying on people wasn't weak. that was what twins were supposed to do -- rely on each other. Wasn’t like he was ‘stoic’ or ‘distant’ or nothin’, either, and he was still a ‘man’. He hugged the kids all the time! And he didn’t talk about his emotions ‘cause it made him feel weird and mushy inside and he didn’t want to. Also, crying was dumb and felt worse.) "Yeah…" Stan scratched his cheek. "Pretty sure bein’ a strong independent woman is a thing guys can do, too," Stan added, thinking of Sturly Stembleburgiss in The Duchess Approves. Wasn't like it didn't go both ways.

Bill looked over at Stanley almost suspiciously. "Is ‘girly’ the same as ‘womanly’?" Bill asked him.

"Uh… yeah?" Stan said. Why wouldn’t it be? "I mean, ‘boyishly’ and ‘manly’ are pretty much the same thing, you’re just older." That had been what had happened with Manly Dan; not like he’d done anything differently than get older, and just keep on doing the same things the exact same way. Well, okay, maybe he’d gotten _better_ at it, all the cutting down trees and eating pancakes and drinking coffee and washing clothes and stuff, but that wasn’t _that_ different. "Same thing with girls."

Mabel, however, was glancing over at Stan and Ford with a frown on her face. "No, she’s right. You and Grunkle Ford are always all grumpy inside because you never let your feelings out." (‘ _Huh?_ ’ thought Stan.)

Miz nodded. "Like how a lot of guys seem to think that they’re not supposed to cry because it’s ‘embarrassing’ even though it’s a perfectly natural human reaction to an outpouring of emotion."

"Hey, I don’t cry, I shoot attack poison from my eyes like a desert lizard!" Stan said grumpily. "It’d melt you lugs, if I ever got you with it." Now Miz, Mabel, Dipper _and_ Bill were all staring at Stan.

Miz pointed at him. "See?! He denies that he performs a perfectly natural human reaction!" The kids were all nodding, to Stan’s annoyance. Bill still looked a bit confused.

"...You don’t shoot poison from your eyes," Bill said slowly (wondering if this was like how Stanley kept claiming that he was a kid when he was actually more than one trillion years old).

"He’s making up excuses to try and deny the fact that he doesn’t want to cry in front of people because he thinks it’ll make him look ‘weak’ and therefore ‘girly’," Miz said, while nodding like a sage imparting them all with ancient wisdom.

Stan frowned at them all at that, and sat up in his beanbag chair. "Ain’t nothing wrong with bein’ girly," he told them all.

Mabel frowned. "Then why don’t you cry honestly in front of us Grunkle Stan? You always say you have something in your eye or something like that?"

"I don’t cry," Stan repeated stubbornly, crossing his arms. (Bill eyed him from the side. ...Well, the kid could just keep on eyein’ him. And why the hell would Mabel want him to cry in front of her? Then she’d just get all upset and worried about him… right? He didn’t want that.)

Dipper looked like he was starting to ‘get’ something. "Oh." he said. He glanced at Miz. "So, is this that ‘toxic masculinity’ thing I’ve read about?"

Mabel and Miz both deadpanned at him. ""You do it too,"" they said.

And that made Dipper lay back and stare at the sky like he’d never realized it until they pointed it out to him. "Oh. Oh wow. Like that time I was hanging out with those Manotaurs."

Stan frowned. "Toxic what-now? Being manly ain’t toxic! ...Heh, Wendy would’ve croaked by now if it was," Stan grinned, leaning back in his chair. Wait, wasn’t that Manotaur thing… "Hey, you stuck to your guns when they tried to get you to do that…. uh, ‘really tough, horrible thing’, yeah?" Stan told Dipper. He hadn’t known what Dipper was talking about at the time, he didn’t think, but he did remember that much. And... "That was pretty manly," Stan repeated.

"Grunkle Stan, it’s not about **‘being’** manly or girly." Dipper explained. "It’s about feeling like you have to act and behave in a certain way just because that’s what’s expected of you if you're a guy or a girl." He felt weird explaining this to his own Grunkle, when Grunkle Stan had been the one who’d told it to him first. (At least, Dipper had thought that Grunkle Stan had?) "Like... ‘toxic femininity’ would be if Wendy thought she HAD to be more feminine because she’s a girl," Dipper said, searching for another example to put it in context.

Miz grumbled, "My human uncle was always telling me to wear makeup and get a boyfriend. Like those were the only important things I was required to do. And mom kept trying to get me married to guys I didn't even know! Just ‘cause my parents were worried that I was getting older and hadn't birthed children yet!"

Stan looked over at Miz in alarm, then looked to Bill. (So did the niblings.) Had he heard that right? That sounded scarily like some of the triangle-dimension stuff she’d gone through, or almost had. Bill, without looking over at Stan, reached over and started patting Miz on the head.

"Well, that ain’t happening to you here, Miz," Stan told her. "Understand?" Far as he was concerned, that was what shotguns were for. And, y’know, sane family members. "And neither is me or Wendy cryin’ in front of all of you _just ‘cause_ , y’know, you all think that we have to do what you _expect_ us to do. Right?" Stan said, waiting.

Mabel stood up. "No! I mean like how you _feel_ like you CAN’T cry in front of us."

Stan blinked at his grand-niece, as she walked over to hug him. Stan frowned down at her as he hugged her back. ‘ _Can’t?_ ’ "Mabel, sweetie, I don’t want to, so I don’t. So what?" Stan grumbled out.

"But _why_ don’t you want to?" Mabel asked him, and geez, she was really on about this, huh?

"Well, uh," said Stan, because maybe he _should_ take this a little more seriously, if Mabel was gonna be that serious about this thing? "I mean, if I was cryin’ -- _and I’m not sayin’ I was!_ " Stan said quickly. "--I’d be feelin’ bad, right? And you’re always wantin’ me and Ford to be happy, so…" Stan looked uncomfortable.

"But you’re doing it again! You’re _denying_ that you cry to try and sound tough! But if you were crying and feeling bad, then I can hug you and make you feel better!" Mabel told him. "I DO want you two to be happy. But being ‘fake’ happy just to make me feel better would just make me feel _worse!_ " Mabel insisted.

"Hey," Stan protested, pushed her away from him slightly, so he could look down at her better. "Do I _look_ ‘fake happy’ to you?"

"Not right now," Mabel admitted. "But back when Grunkle Ford first came back from the portal and then he didn’t want to hug it out with you… you were sad right? But you just acted angry instead!" Mabel pointed out.

"Hey, I _was_ angry," Stan protested. And he'd acted on it, too! ...And hell, it wasn’t like he’d wanted to hug it out with Ford at the time, neither. Not after he'd gotten punched in the face for tryin’ the first time! "I, uh, maybe got a little sad later. -- _Not a lot!_ " Stan said.

"But you WERE sad. And you didn’t come to me to let me hug you!" Mabel picked up Stan’s hand to hold it.

Stan sighed. "Sweetie, you ain’t always around to be handin’ out hugs. And you’d feel bad first, seein’ me cry, right? Not like I could get around that happening," Stan said, putting it this way almost as much for Bill as for Mabel. (He was trying to connect it back in some way for the kid who was listening in on this whole thing, to connect it back to what Mabel had tried to do earlier, back on the boat, in explaining how she’d feel if Dipper had died.) "Wasn’t like you were able to fix stuff with me and Ford right then, either." Not then. The scrapbook was a different thing.

Mabel frowned. "When I get sad and cry, you come to me and you help me feel better. What if I was like you and just pretended I wasn't sad. How would you feel if I did that?"

"Heh," Stan said, ruffling her hair. "That’s never gonna happen. You can’t fool _this_ old con-man!" he grinned down at her.

Mabel let out a frustrated sigh. "That’s not what I mean, Grunkle Stan," she sighed again, giving him another hug. "How would you feel if I thought that I’m not _supposed_ to cry in front of you? Like, if I thought that being seen crying by other people was shameful?"

"I’d tell you to punch anybody who tried to tell you how you’re supposed to feel in the jaw," Stan said perfectly reasonably.

"Then--" Mabel glared at Stan. "--who told YOU that you can’t cry in front of people?" (And Stan’s eyebrows rose in confusion.)

"Nobody," said Bill from the sidelines, staring up at the sky. "--Society," Miz responded at the exact same time.

(Well, at least the kid had gotten something right for once. Huh. ...Well, Stan figured the kid was due. He wasn't sure why it was the demon who used to be human that was the one who was getting all this stuff dead wrong, though. Sure, she'd seemed to have a pretty messed-up home life, both when she was a triangle _and_ when she was human, but… uh… Oh. Huh. Maybe that was… uh… why that was.)

Bill looked over at her. "You See that?" Bill asked her point-blank, because he certainly hadn’t. (Had he _missed_ something, somehow? Or had she just not Looked? --He was pretty sure it was the second one. He’d Seen Stanley Pines’ entire timeline, start-to-finish, when he’d been looking him up in the middle of making his initial Deal with Gideon. ‘Society’ hadn’t been telling Stanley what to do and not-do by that point for a very long time; most of the Gravity Falls police force had largely given up on him by that point. Not like there was much that could’ve happened later to Stanley after that, that he could’ve missed!)

"It’s not something I’d need to See, but if we wanna get technical, their _father_ \--" Miz said the word ‘father’ as if it was a curse word, "--seemed to be pretty big on the whole ‘stoic’ manliness side of things."

"So?" said Bill. "What’s your point?"

(Stan let out a deep sigh. Hell. This was gonna go off the rails fast, wasn’t it? After looking between them… Yeah, probably. They were both looking a little stubborn, and the last time the demons had started arguing over one of them, it had.)

"Hey," Stan said, trying to cut things off before they got that far, but neither of the demons acted like they had heard him.

"A lot of people pick up their world views from their parents and the community they grew up in," Miz answered Bill. "Their dad wasn’t the most affectionate."

Bill gave her a long look at this. "Did you See Filbrick say that Stanley can’t cry in front of people?" Bill repeated, being more specific this time.

"...He didn’t outright say it." Miz admitted. "But he certainly never cried in front of them. And if he saw ‘them’ cry he would say that he ‘wasn’t impressed’ with them."

Dipper and Mabel gasped at this, but Stan just frowned. (So did Ford.)

"Pa wasn’t talkin’ about…" _'the crying part, just the getting beaten up again part?’_ Stan hesitated. His memories of stuff that far back were still a little… he didn’t always trust ‘em sometimes. "I mean…" Stan rubbed at the back of his neck, frowning.

Mabel hugged Stan again. "Oh Grunkle Stan…" she sniffled. Even Dipper got up and walked over to him, to hug his other side.

Stan hugged both the kids back, but he also looked over to Ford, like he usually did when he wasn’t completely sure about his own memories. Ford looked a little unnerved himself.

"...I don’t believe that… our father meant it quite like that," Ford said slowly. "He… was usually talking about what we hadn’t… ah…" He really didn’t want to get into any of the things they’d used to pull as kids, let alone talk about any of the bullies that they hadn’t quite managed to give as good as they’d gotten from. The boxing lessons had helped a bit, but...

"Filbrick thought you were ‘weak’ and he wanted you ‘strong’, but his ideas of strength falls right in line with the idea of ‘toxic masculinity’." Miz turned onto her side to keep the Stans in her view, and they both frowned at her at that last comment.

Bill had been thinking over all of this for a bit. And then he let out a laugh.

"And you all get so surprised at why _I’m_ happy to be insane," Bill said. "It’s better than what YOU all do!" Bill leaned back, grinning at them all, as they all sent him _‘what?’_ looks. "Shooting Star tries to tell Stanley she wants him to cry, so she can feel bad about him feeling bad? And then tries to tell him he _has_ to cry when he doesn’t want to, so she can feel bad, but says he’s being toxic when he says no and doesn’t want to feel what she told him he had to feel, so she won't feel bad? And Pine Tree agrees with her?"

Mabel groaned. "It’s not like that."

"--It’s exactly like that!" Bill replied. "You’re doing the ‘toxic masculinity’ thing that you just defined, to him!"

Mabel huffed out a breath and looked over at Dipper, who seemed just as frustrated. He wished he had access to the dictionary definition of Toxic Masculinity right now so he could try and define it better. And then shove it right up in Bill’s face.

"And YOU," Bill said, turning to Miz, "Think that being sad and DOING NOTHING about the thing that is MAKING you sad is BETTER than getting ANGRY and actually DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT? --That's NOT 'girly’, that's STUPID." Bill gave her a long look. "You’ve been talking to that STUPID LIZARD of yours too much," he half-chided, half-warned her.

"I don’t think getting angry would make me any better at making good decisions..." Miz mumbled.

"And if you’re too busy being sad and screaming forever off in a corner alone, and that's ALL YOU DO, then you aren’t making ANY good decisions AT ALL, you’re just making ONE long BAD one," Bill told her in return.

"I cry, I get over it. And once I’m done, and calmed down, I can think more clearly." Miz sighed, unsure how to defend her own way of handling her issues.

"I get angry, I DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, and then I don’t have to cry," Bill replied happily. "It’s BETTER!" Bill chirped out at her, trying to offer up to his little sister what he firmly believed to be a MUCH better way of handling things.

"...Brother, have YOU ever cried out your feelings? Have you ever grieved properly?" Miz asked quietly. She certainly hadn’t Seen a true catharsis for him.

Bill stared at her.

And then Bill laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

_A lot._

And then, once Bill had _finally_ stopped laughing again, the demon-who-now-looked-human grinned widely, and then pointed a finger back at himself.

"Triangle," Bill said, as if that explained everything. (To him, it did. He’d been geometry. No internal organs. No tear ducts. OF COURSE HE HADN’T cried.)

"Well, you have a human-ish body that’s capable of it now." Miz stared back at him. "So, would you?"

"Would I what?" Bill said, lounging back against the roof. (Both sets of twins were staring at Miz, now. Because, Bill? Cry? _Seriously?_ ...But only Stan and Dipper managed to follow that thought on to the next one, catching what Miz had just implied: Bill literally _hadn’t been able_ to cry before? And only Mabel wondered if what Bill might have had to grieve about was the brother Grunkle Ford thought Bill didn’t have.)

"Would you like to grieve over what happened to your brother?" Miz asked so quietly they all barely heard it.

Bill gave her a very long look, while the kids exchanged glances.

"...Define ‘grieve’," Bill said evenly. Maybe she’d actually meant ‘get even’ with the shapes who’d killed him, instead? She hadn’t said that, though -- she’d said ‘grieve’. (Ford quietly noted that this was not confirmation of having... or not having... a brother, either way.)

(Mabel just as quietly noted how reserved Bill got at being asked that question, and sent a glance her twin brother’s way.)

"Scream, cry, remember, realize that you can remember him as much as you want to. Think about the good times, think about how you felt and how you might have wanted to feel."

Bill blinked at her. (Crying was stupid, which he’d just told her, and… he could remember his brother whenever he wanted to. Did she think he couldn’t? That seemed… wrong, somehow. But what Bill finally decided to share with her was...)

"I’m always screaming," Bill told her, tilting his head to the side. "Does that count?"

(‘ _Always?_ ’ thought Ford. Bill obviously wasn’t screaming at the moment. Even if he'd claimed he'd started ‘screaming forever’ at the burning down of his home dimension, he clearly must have stopped screaming at some point. He’d even been downright quiet earlier, in ignoring him. And long before that--)

"Depends." Miz shuffled a little closer to him. "Did screaming make you feel better? To grieve is to feel bad for a little while, but then afterwards, you feel better."

Bill thought about this. His eyes jittered slightly from side to side, and he suddenly made a connection between three of the things she’d said: crying, get over it, done; scream or cry or remember -- remember ‘for a little while’ -- as grieving.

Bill looked up at her and said, "I’m not done screaming yet. I’m still screaming. I’m always screaming."

That got some looks from the humans, and a deepening frown from Ford. (That wasn't…)

Miz nodded. "Well, I hope that you’ll be able to feel better. Once you’ve finished screaming."

Bill grinned at her. "After I’ve finished fixing everything, I’ll stop screaming!" he confirmed. (And that had Stan mentally standing up and taking notice… and feeling more than a little uncomfortable at the idea of the kid screaming forever over his brother. ...and what ‘fixing everything’ might mean when it was _the kid_ that was doing it.)

(Stan glanced over at Ford… who looked just about as uncomfortable at the idea of the kid ‘fixing everything’ as _he_ was. … _Great_.)

Miz smiled softly. "Well, that sounds good. I hope you’ll be able to stop screaming soon." If Bill's screams were his method of expressing his anguish and grief, then Miz hoped he'd be able to find peace soon.

"Soon is relative!" Bill said brightly, not concerned about his timetable in the least. "It’s fine. I made it useful!"

"...Useful?" Stan asked. The uncomfortable feeling he had didn’t exactly go away when Bill tilted his head back and let out an odd-sounding dual rising tone that… kept going. And sounded almost… familiar?

Stan, looking for a little help here (because what the heck was Bill doing? was that supposed to sound like a scream?) turned his head and glanced over at Ford... and saw that his brother had gone as pale as chalk.

Stan whipped his head back towards Bill and was about to snap out ‘-- _Stop!_ ’ at him before the triangle demon broke his brother _again_ (damnit!)--

\--when the kid stopped himself all on his own. The noise quickly trailed off, and the kid closed his mouth again.

Stan glanced around at them all, counting heads and mentally checking pulses. Dipper was staring (he was fine), and Mabel was frowning (also fine). Ford-- …looked okay again. Huh. (Stan almost wanted to ask Ford about… Well. _That._ But… he just wasn’t sure what to ask.)

There was a long moment of silence on the rooftop.

Finally, Stan said: "...Sounds more like singing to me," to the kid, frowning at him still. Because… it kind of _almost_ had? (Well, what else was he supposed to say? That’s what it had sounded like to him. Like singing, not _screaming_. Hell...)

"YES!" the kid said enthusiastically, to Stan’s surprise, waving his arms around and looking all excited at him. "Music is _BETTER!_ "

...Yeah, Stan didn’t get it at all.

"Gonna have to explain that one to me better later, kid," Stan told him, rubbing a hand over his face again. He knew he was missing something here. He just didn’t know what.

"Mm. Fine," said Bill, as he leaned back again, against the pillows and blankets surrounding him and his little sister in Miz’s ‘nest’.

Stan dropped the hand, then sighed and looked down at the kids. "Uh. Not that I ain't okay with the hugs..." he began. The twins pulled away from him a little, looking not at all embarrassed.

"It’s fine, Grunkle Stan. I won’t make you cry in front of us if you don’t want to." Mabel sighed. "But if you’re feeling sad, be sure to come tell me so I can give you all the hugs you’ll need! Okay?"

"Uh, sure sweetie…" said Stan. (What, was he gonna have to pretend to be sad now to get hugs outta her? ...Heh. Who was he kidding. Mabel gave out hugs like they were goin’ out of style. Or made of Mabel Juice.)

Dipper rubbed his arm. "And… I like the anime. There! I said it." He glared at Mabel but she didn’t tease him about it. She gave him a grin.

"Just be honest about what you like, Dip-Dop! If you weren’t all embarrassed about it, I wouldn’t have even known I could tease you about it." Mabel paused. "Same for the whole… being taller than you thing," she shrugged, giving him a smile.

"Heh. -- _ **Alpha twin!**_ " Stan called out, grinning as he lifted a fist and punched the air.

Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he did it; he’d long since gotten over that. Sure, Mabel was taller than him for _now_. But he was going to get his growth spurt eventually and then, statistically speaking, he’d almost definitely end up being the taller one! And… even if he didn't grow taller than her… that was okay too. (--He could always borrow the flashlight again for a day!)

"So... wanna watch more anime together?" Dipper asked, and Mabel laughed.

"Sure, bro-bro!" They both scrambled back over to where they’d been sitting before and laid down on a bean bag chair together, sharing one between them this time. (And Stan noticed, even if the demons didn’t seem to, that it was the chair that was a little closer to him and farther away from the demons, not the nearer one to their little ‘nest’.)

"Heh," said Stan, watching them do this. "I got a better idea." He glanced behind him at Bill. "--Hey, kid," he called out.

"Hm?" said Bill, leaning back and stargazing at the moment. (Miz had paused the anime on the ‘screen’ she’d made, once the ‘girly’ explanation had started getting heated. She was about to start it up again for the twins, when she heard Stan say he had a ‘better idea’, and she waited to hear what he had to say, curious.)

"Gotta question for ya." Stan waited until the kid was looking at him. "With the not-talking stuff. That also mean _current events?_ "

Bill blinked at him.

"No," Bill said slowly. "Any events from when we arrived in this dimension and forwards are fair game," he told Stanley, who suddenly grinned.

"‘Not-talking stuff’?" Ford repeated slowly, glancing back at them and not entirely certain what was going on. Wasn’t _Stan_ supposed to be the one saying what could be talked about in dimensions he had traveled to before? Himself and his brother and Dipper, _not_ Bill?

Stan looked over at Ford. "Kid made a kind of bet with me and the kids earlier," Stan told him, but before Ford barely had the chance to straighten in place -- a precursor to pulling in a full breath to _yell at them all_ for letting themselves be drawn into one of Cipher’s mad games! -- Stan added, "Kid helps me with whatever I want in the meantime until we go home, and all we gotta do is not talk about how stuff went down with, y’know, _this_ ," Stan said, "Back home."

Ford frowned at him furiously. "--I didn’t agree to this!" (And did Stan _really_ believe that Bill would simply ‘help’ him with ‘whatever he wanted’ until they all were home? What kind of fool was his brother? ~~And did Stan really believe that Bill would actually be getting them all home again at the end of the next night, that he wasn’t simply _toying_ with them all, that nighttime wouldn’t leave and come again, to the tune of Bill _laughing at them all_ instead, _demanding_ that they--~~)

Ford glared at Bill. He absolutely _REFUSED_ to play a single one of Bill’s mad games, in this dimension or any other! No! And if Bill thought that he could _force_ him to, then--!!

"Heh," said Stan. "Bet wasn’t with you; it was with us," his brother told him. Ford blinked at him, startled, his original train of thought completely derailed. "You can say whatever you want to anybody," Stan laid out plainly, and Ford eyed him, then eyed Bill. Ford didn’t trust this game of Bill’s at all, _especially_ not with Bill seemingly trying to leave him out of it. --If anything, that made it that much more suspect to him!

Ford was about to protest (or at the very least warn Stanley about) his brother’s irresponsible behavior, when Miz spoke up awkwardly, cutting in before he could. "I'm sorry for going all… Social Justice Warrior on everyone. Not quite sure what came over me." (Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look at this, then mostly just shrugged it off. They’d heard worse, and weirder, back at home in Piedmont, California.)

"Feelings are dumb," Bill said. "All those messy brain chemicals. Thought is MUCH better than Emotion!" he told her.

Miz shuffled around on her nest. "Well, I kinda have to deal with emotions all the time."

"Yes," Bill noted. "But thoughts are easier and better!" Bill liked logic of the Mind; it MADE SENSE. "I'm not doing ANY of that 'Heart’ stuff until I have to," he complained.

(That set off several exchanged glances between the kids and the supposedly-responsible adults. And Stan's eyebrows went up, and stayed up, as he realized what that might mean in the larger context of things with the kid, both before and in-the-now.)

Miz giggled softly. "Well, if you ever _have_ to do heart stuff, do you want me here to be with you through it?"

Bill had been about to say that he'd just grab 'anti-Bill’ and throw them at whoever's head. --Problem solved! He wouldn't have to handle it! (Or go bug Stitched Heart to deal with it for him instead, which would require a _little_ handling.) But…

"Yes," Bill told her. He liked Miz's idea of being here with him better.

Miz nodded. "Okay then." She scooted over to snuggle his side.

Stan sighed. Why were all the conversations with these demon kids so… taxing? (Ugh, taxes.)

"...Anyway," Stan got back to it with his brother. "The kids down there haven't left the house, yeah?" He hadn't seen them do it.

"--No, they haven't left," Bill said, not even looking over at them, as he draped an arm over and around Miz -- which he had decided to do from now on when she touched sides with him, because she wanted and liked hugs. She was making a soft rumbling sound, like purring but… not. (Which he liked! --It was a little like humming, and it made him feel relaxed and a little... sleepy...? That was fine. It was fine.)

Ford, who had started to nod at his brother, sent a long look Bill's way. (Bill seemed almost hell-bent on refusing to look over at him, though, much to Ford’s ire.) Then Ford confirmed, "Not even so much as an open window." Even with all the distractions going on, he’d kept an ear to the house. He would have heard something if anyone had tried to leave; the street didn’t get that much traffic at night, and it was almost a certainty that they would not be leaving the house this late at night -- not unless one of them was up to no good. (He wasn't sure how late it was _precisely_ , but in knowing the date -- month, day, and year -- and also his location on the planet, he could calculate approximately what time it was by the progression of the moon overhead; it was ever so slightly past midnight now, perhaps by a minute or two.)

"Yeah, but, I was thinkin’," Stan said. "They didn't even go outside again to try and see us? Or talk about anything else?"

Ford hesitated.

"Touching the line, Stanley," Bill called out warningly, and Ford glanced over at him. ...So, this particular point was important enough for Bill to threaten Stanley over, somehow? Because it might spoil Bill’s betting-'game’? Why would it--?

"...Wait," said Ford, blinking. He looked over at his brother. "They didn't go to the swingset to talk."

Miz blinked. "Well, us showing up already screwed up the timeline, since they skipped school to spy on us today?" She wiggled her hand in the air, playing with the cybernetic bodysuit she'd made. It was Cursed to feel like nothing. (Bill’s, in turn, was set up to directly transfer the sensation of ‘touch’ of the outer surface of the suit to his skin, so it effectively it felt like he was wasn’t wearing the suit at all, also.)

"Yeah. They didn't go to school today, right?" said Stan, leaning back. "So, what did they not do in school today?" Stan offered up almost innocently.

Ford's eyes widened. "They didn't go to the office?" What-- did that mean that--?! Ford stopped breathing for a moment, until he realized-- ...No. No, the college school board officials _would_ still show up tomorrow; of course they would. _That_ had already been arranged by the time they had been told of its impending occurrence. Ford let out a slow breath in relief.

Then something else occurred to Ford, and he turned his head to glare at Bill.

" _‘Breaking things’_ ," Ford said darkly. "You thought I'd go charging in there and interrupt everything. Get Stan all riled up over--" And maybe even have his own other self second-guessing what he should do, by what could go wrong!

Bill raised up his head, to prop it up on a fist. And he smiled.

Miz covered her ears. "Nope. Not saying anything."

Bill, while holding gaze with Ford, slowly raised a single finger to his lips. And then he made that waterfall sound again. To Ford's consternation and continuing ire, the demon looked absolutely **delighted** for some reason.

" _Then what am I supposed to do here?!_ " Ford snarled out at Bill angrily.

Stan stared at his brother in something like horrified amazement. "You're asking _the kid??_ "

(Miz snorted and tried to muffle her laughter, it probably wouldn’t be nice. But, Ford STILL looked to Bill for guidance even after he rejected him?)

"--No!!" Ford shook his head. "I--" He closed his mouth and grimaced, turning away from all of them, to stare back down at the house and the pawnshop below it again. Things had been so much easier when Bill had just acted as the villain that he was! Why couldn't he just--?!

"I'm not playing your games anymore, Stanford," he heard Bill say behind him, and it sent a chill down Ford’s spine, even as it provoked a good deal of rage. "I don't have to."

"They. Were. _Your._ Games." Ford growled out, as he slowly turned back to face Bill, hands on _both_ of his guns. He pulled in a breath. "I did not _want_ to play them," Ford said next, fully intending to read Bill the riot act, because Bill--

"You wanted an adventure? I gave you an adventure," Bill told him, sitting up in place, as the niblings looked over at him. "You wanted to be a hero? You wanted to fight?" Bill spread his arms out. "Why not? -- _Here's your villain!_ "

Ford clenched his jaw, and began to protest that, "That wasn't--!!"

"--what you wanted? No, it was," Bill said, lowering your arms. "You just don't _LIKE_ what you want. --It's fine," Bill said, settling back down again, to lie on his back again, looking back to the stars. "Our Deal is off, and I'm done with you."

"... _Oh?_ " said Ford, nearly vibrating in place with rage, as he slowly rose to his feet, hands slowly curling around the grips of both of his weapons as he took a slightly broader firing stance. "Well. Maybe _I'm_ not done with _y--_ " Ford stopped at the hand on his shoulder. His brother's hand on his shoulder. His brother, who had just gotten up from where he’d been sitting over by the niblings, and crossed the roof in order to do so. To stop him from--

Ford turned his head towards his brother slightly.

"You want him to stop playing games with you, right?" Stan told him quietly under his breath. "Ford, _take the win._ " And Ford felt an odd fatigue run through him at his brother's words.

"Stanley, I--" Ford said quietly, straightening, his hands loosening slightly in their grip on his ranged weaponry.

"--Just tag out," his brother said to him. "Just for a little while. Okay?"

Ford stared at him, then down at the hand on his shoulder.

Miz was making an understanding sound. "Oh… so Ford wanted a villain in his scenario, in his ‘story’ and you obliged?" she looked up at Bill. Well, that explained a lot, considering how much Bill had to work around that Stanford just to keep him alive in the 30 years he spent behind the portal. Might even explain why Bill had tormented Ford so much despite trying to be his friend.

"Not like I didn't already fit the part of a 'villain’ as he defines it!" Bill told her cheerfully. Then more soberly he added, "I tried to give him other things, too, but he didn't want them from me."

Ford literally gave a full-body flinch at the last. (Stan opened his mouth to ask his brother what the _hell_ that had meant, but at the haunted look Ford had on his face, Stan closed his mouth again. He did tug at Ford's shoulder until he sat down again with him, though, right where they were both standing, not all that far from the roof’s edge.)

Miz paused. "That sounds a little like how the Federation in my dimension purposefully puts me up as the ‘villian’ and points to my ‘jobs’ for Time Baby as ‘evidence’ for how I'm evil, even though THEY were the ones who demanded for me to do them." She frowned. "A sort of, ‘pin the blame on me’ kinda thing."

Miz sighed. "To be fair. It was my fault for agreeing to his Deal. I'm not gonna put all the blame on him. Even if Time Baby's a jerk. And I just think it's unfair that I'm the villain when he's the one holding gladiatorial matches where people can kill each other for people's entertainment and apparently that was perfectly _fine_!" She turned to stare at the younger set of twins. "Even worse that anyone can challenge anyone to Globnar. And no one seems to find this fact a problem?"

"Hey, we _tried_ to get out of it!" Dipper protested, holding his hands up. "It was messed up!"

Mabel looked over at him. "The laser tag was fun, though," Mabel noted.

Miz nodded. "It's messed up and stupid but it's perfectly LEGAL to do. Isn't that just… unfairly stupid? He can go around killing people or holding death matches that involve CHILDREN but he's still the ‘good guy’?" ( _‘Death matches?’_ Stan and Ford both thought, sending worried glances at each other. --When the heck had _that_ happened?!)

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other. "...You think Time Baby is a _good_ guy?" Mabel asked of her skeptically. Theirs definitely wasn't! And it didn't sound like the one she was working for was, either?

"The multiverse where I come from has him as one of the heads of the government. He doesn't do much for the laws and stuff, but he's there and he allows them to pass the laws they decide on. He doesn't need to be a _good_ guy, he's on the council that decides what's _lawful_ or not. And isn't _obeying_ the law considered good?" Miz spat out. "I think your Time Baby attempted to arrest brother during Weirdmageddon, that would make him the ‘good’ guy in your eyes, wouldn't it?"

Mabel and Dipper frowned and exchanged a glance. Did Time Baby try to do that? Well, there had been that letter from Blandin, so... if Time Baby _had_ tried to stop Bill, then… Sort of? But no?

Miz continued, glancing at Bill, "Didn't he threaten to throw a tantrum if you didn't surrender? Don't his tantrums destroy things even WORSE than that party you threw?"

(At this point, Stan was starting to wonder if he should’ve asked the kid if their own(?!) Time Baby was a problem that needed solving. --Or, y’know, _punching_. One of the two.)

Bill let out a laugh. "If I let him! He’s a dumb baby," Bill said. "And now the stupid idiot’s got himself trapped in a TIME LOOP!" Bill grinned. "3012 comes around, when his molecules finish reconstituting? And the stupid little idiot will come out _swinging_ with NO real memory of ANYTHING that happened before that! Big tantrum. Real ‘end of the world’ stuff! HA!" Bill exclaimed. "--I’ll just _step out_ for a bit, and let that stupid baby do his thing. No reason to rock the boat! Eventually, he’ll come back and try to stop me, aaaand..." Bill made a sort of twisted looping motion with a finger, then let out a chittering chuckle.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance, remembering what the mailbox had told them about the year 3012.

"So, if we left something for the time squad to find in the future…" Dipper said, looking at Bill.

But Bill didn’t look worried, he just laughed instead. "HA! -- _Nice try_ , kid! But that stupid Time Baby’s gonna destroy EVERYTHING! --Anything you could manage to pull off HIDING FROM ME -- and LET’S FACE IT, you couldn’t! -- would be TOO WELL HIDDEN for that dumb baby OR his so-called ‘Time Squad’ to ever find! And that’s _even if_ it SURVIVED all that DESTRUCTION in the FIRST place! _HA!_ "

"Time Police, Bill. They’re called the Time Police," Dipper corrected him, feeling annoyed. Ugh, what was up with Bill and his stupid nicknames for everything, anyway?

Miz scoffed. "So HE gets to destroy the world and he's still an authority figure?" That was so unfair.

"Authority figure? HA! --More like a figureHEAD!" Bill laughed out.

Miz giggled, Time Baby had a huge head, not that there was anything wrong with large heads, but it certainly suited his ego.

"Not that those idiots do more than run around after him, trying to keep him from getting too cranky," Bill told her. "Like I care what _those_ humans get up to!" Bill waved off.

Miz tilted her head. "So...why is Time Baby allowed to run free and arrest other people for timecrimes when he's just as destructive if not more so than any demon?" 

" _Because_ he’s just that destructive," Bill told her, like it was obvious. "Nobody else stands up to the jerk! Stupid giant Time Lords are REALLY hard to kill permanently. --I didn’t get him the first time, slipped _RIGHT_ out from under my Sight," Bill muttered. "And I wasn’t OUT yet, and I didn’t want a bunch of idiots JUMPING IN and MESSING with MY dimension to handle it FOR me! ...So I’m letting the dumb baby do his thing," Bill shrugged. "Why get into a whole bunch of STUPID nonlinear time loop nonsense, when I DON’T HAVE TO?" Bill pointed out.

Miz shrugged. "I can't tell if yours or my Time Baby is worse."

"Eh, yours," Bill said. No contest there. "The one here is stuck now, and NEVER GETTING OUT. Contained, and if I didn’t care about anything else, I could waste him again WHENEVER I WANT without all that dumb ‘pillar’ stuff _you've_ got going GETTING IN MY WAY."

Stan frowned. The kid was getting worked up. He sounded a little too ‘high energy’ just then, more like he had the first couple of days that he’d been at the Shack. And Stan could feel Ford shifting his balance through the hand he had on his shoulder; Ford was feeling the unease, too.

"Mine's still up and about and he DOES do his job keeping time from collapsing so… Eh." Miz sighed. "As annoyed as I am with him though, he has been slightly nicer recently." She rubbed her arm. 

Stan had to stifle a wince. "‘Slightly nicer’ don’t mean he won’t try and tap you for another one of those jobs again," Stan told her roughly, from where he sat.

"Well, yeah. And that would suck. But I have recently been able to talk him into helping me with an idea I had for getting my little brother back…" Miz sighed. "It took eons of work, making him trust me enough for that."

Stan started feeling really uneasy himself. He’d thought he’d talked her around on the getting out of the hired-killer thing, but if she was still willing to work for him to get what she wanted, despite saying she didn’t want to kill people… then she really wasn’t that much different from the kid, in a bad way. (Ford glanced over at Stan, feeling the grip on his shoulder tighten slightly.) "Miz… it really ain’t worth it. There's gotta be another way to do whatever you need to do, without that Baby guy’s help."

Miz glanced up at Stan. "I don't want to kill for him anymore. I could try to find a work around. And… if he really insists that I HAVE to kill someone, I could probably fake their death and just keep them away from Time Baby until he forgets about it?"

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other. "You’ve been… killing people for Time Baby?" Dipper said slowly. They both started to back away from her a little bit.

"He made me a Deal, I do a job for him in exchange for a Favor. And I trade in my Favors to--"

"--Stop," said Stan. Miz closed her mouth. He glanced between Miz and the kid. "Bill, talk her out of it. _Completely._ "

Bill tilted his head at Stan slightly. "Right now?" (Ford looked between the two of them with the first stirrings of vague alarm. Because had Bill actually just-- That had been a _command_ that Stan had given to him, and Bill had just-- just--)

Stan started to open his mouth to say ‘yes’, then thought the better of it. "Before she leaves for her own dimensional set again." He had other stuff he needed to handle here, and back at home, first. "--Don’t think I don’t know what the two of you are doin’," Stan told the pair of them, "Bein’ all distracting and thinking you can just lead us all around by the nose." And at the way Bill just _brightened up_ and gave out a chittering laugh, Stan knew that he’d called it. (Shit, and his brother actually looked surprised at this. The hell?)

Miz grumbled. "Really can't hide anything from you." Distraction failed. Again.

"...Stan?" Ford said slowly, looking very wrong-footed at the moment to Stan.

Stan sighed heavily. "Ford, the _kid’s_ thing here isn’t actually what happens with the two kids in there," he tossed a thumb back at the pawnshop and the house. "It’s something we could figure out _here_ that could be a problem for _us_ when we get back home," he told his brother.

" _Stanley!_ " Bill said, sounding scandalized. "You heard, but you didn’t listen! I said it would cause trouble if you figured it out _here_ , and _no_ trouble if we get back first!"

"--Trouble for _you_ ," Stanley noted, and Bill got a thin smirk. "What happens if we get back without figuring out this thing you don’t want us to figure out here?" Stan asked him straight-out.

"That Stanford loses YOU," Bill told him with a grin.

Ford immediately shot to his feet and stepped forward and out in front of Stan. "-- _You are not killing my brother!_ " Ford declared angrily, though he was shaking like a leaf as he said it. (And all the things he’d been trying not to think too hard about suddenly grew claws and dug them into the forefront of his thoughts: _the kids were here, Bill had a second demon as backup, nothing Ford had on him would work to even so much as slow_ either _of them down, he couldn’t stop him, he couldn’t_ do _**anything**_ \--)

Bill gave that Stanford a long look. "Who said anything about killing your brother," Bill told him with absolutely zero inflection to his tone, while Miz looked away, keeping her mouth shut.

Stan slowly pushed himself to his feet again, then took a step to the side, to stand at the side of his brother (patting Ford reassuringly on the shoulder as he went). And Stan stared at her and then the kid.

"You're sayin’ that if we find out…" Stan paused.

"Then you and I will have a problem," Bill admitted, turning his head back towards Stanley. "And if you don’t find out, then…" Bill gave him a long look. "You, Stanley Pines, will get EXACTLY what you want!" Bill told him with a smile.

Stan pulled in a shallow breath. Right. "Losing my brother is what you think I want?" he said to the kid, oh so carefully. (Like the demon knew what he wanted. Like _hell_.)

Bill stared at him. "No."

"...So why would I lose my brother?" Stan asked the kid next, glaring at him.

...and he got a "--You won’t!" and another giggle -- and an almost sly look -- out of the demon kid for that one.

Stan frowned at the kid. How the hell could Ford lose him, without him losing Ford? "You ain’t makin’ any sense, kid."

"Yes!" said Bill. "EXACTLY!!" He looked very happy about that. ...Hell. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

Miz was covering her face. "Uwu…" This was so fucked up.

Stan glanced over at Miz. "...Can I get a translation from insane-triangle-talk, here?" he asked her, but Bill immediately said, "No!" and made a zipper-and-tossing-away-the-key motion across Miz’s mouth for her. (Dipper winced at watching this.)

Miz shrugged. She shook her head slowly and placed a finger to her lips before shrugging again with a helpless expression… and a mildly guilty look.

Stan let out a breath. Damn it. "Is anybody gonna _die_ outta this?" he asked. (And the kids slowly backed a little farther away from the two demons even further.)

Bill shook his head and shifted a bit in place. "No." That was surprising to him, that Stanley had asked. (Did Stanley think he wasn’t following the agreement-rules anymore? It wasn’t like he didn’t know that Stanley wanted most of the things he’d told him to apply to everyone. It was only the priority-order of ‘defending against attacks’ that was specific to just-them, to Stanley’s ‘family’ -- Bill knew that now. The whole ‘not starting fights’ and ‘not attacking first because that starts a fight’ thing was a ‘kid’-thing first, not just an agreement-thing; and the definition of mental and physical attacks Stanley had given him was an as-yet incomplete explanation by way of Stanley of what Stanley thought would cause fights in general, not something that applied to just-and-only-and-specifically _THEM_.)

Miz raised a hand into the air and said, "No dying! Like, the opposite of dying!" (Bill shot her a warning look at this.) Miz sheepishly put her hand back down.

...Okay. If nobody was gonna die, then Stan figured he could probably handle it. _Whatever_ ‘it’ was.

(‘The opposite of dying?’ Dipper wondered. Did that mean that somebody was going to… be _born?_ He glanced over at his sister, who looked just as confused, so this wasn’t something Bill had said anything about earlier during any of her ‘science lab’ sessions with him at the spaceship. Okay...)

"Is Stanley going to end up in another dimension afterwards?" was what Ford asked of the demon in an almost shaking tone of voice, and the kid looked over at him, almost surprised. The kid tilted his head, and moved his eyes over to Stan.

"Am I?" Stan asked, to both reinforce and repeat the question.

"...Do you want to?" was the demon’s reply, and, well, _that_ didn’t exactly help.

"Any reason you think I should?" was Stan’s next question, and Bill made a humming, almost reflective, thinking sound.

"...That’s up to you," Bill told Stan in a more moderate tone. So was the, "I could take you anywhere you want to go," and that told Stan that that one _wouldn’t_ exactly be part of the kid’s plan... which meant it wasn’t part of what the kid was expecting to happen in this whole ‘Ford losing him’ thing. Okay.

"Grunkle Stan…" Mabel said, as she and Dipper slowly drifted their way across the roof over to him.

Miz had buried her head under a pillow. Her tail was out, twitching in agitation. "Uwu…" she wasn't going to say anything. But it was hard. Like sitting on a juicy bit of gossip and NOT telling ‘Ronica.

"I ain’t gonna get you to define ‘losing me’ to me while we’re here, am I, kid?" Stan grumbled out. He wasn’t exactly surprised at the single shake of the head Bill gave him. Damn. Worth a shot.

"But nobody’s going to die," Shooting Star repeated, looking over at Bill. Bill turned his head towards her slightly, a bit confused. Hadn’t he just answered that?

Bill tilted his head at Shooting Star, at her rather unexpected (to him) question. "Yes, nobody is going to die," Bill repeated. "That is a thing that I will help Stanley to make sure will not happen." He looked up at Stanley. "While our ‘gambling bet’ is on." He looked back down at Shooting Star. "...And for a little while after," Bill told her. Then he grinned at her. "It wouldn’t be NEARLY as much FUN, otherwise!"

Mabel did not look particularly reassured. Dipper was frowning at Bill furiously, clutching at the brim of his hat.

Miz spoke up softly. "That Stanford--" she pointed at Ford, her head still buried under a pillow "-- might _not_ lose you, it might not happen. Even when it happens. And no one's going to get killed. It'll be up to you. And… and you're a good man," she told Stan. "So it might not happen."

Stan frowned over at her, then looked between her and the kid. And the kid just… shrugged.

"...Tryin’ to work me up over nothin’," Stan grumbled to himself, letting out a half-sigh, half-breath for his trouble. He shook his head. "I really don’t like your mindgames, kid," Stan told the triangle kid.

"You asked!" Bill told him brightly, with another chittery-laugh. Stan let out another tired sigh and let his shoulders slump, shaking his head.

He raised his head slightly to look over at his brother. "He usually pull stuff like this on you?" Stan asked of his brother, who was still staring at the kid with a very taken aback look on his face.

"...Nothing quite like this," was all he got out of Ford, in a very quiet tone, as he continued staring at Bill.

Miz poked her head out from under the pillow. "So… since that distraction failed, what do we do now?"

"Eh, let them all do their thing with the ‘two kids’ over there," Bill waved at the pawnshop in front of them. "It’s fine!"

Stan shot Bill a disgruntled look. He wasn’t gonna completely give up on whatever it was Bill thought he was hiding, but he wasn’t gonna obsess over it or anything, either.

"You know, you really didn’t think this through, kid," Stan told the kid, as he sat down, and Ford escorted Dipper and Mabel off to the side of the roof -- to help them both grab up their bedrolls and bring them back over to where he was watching the house, to set them up a good distance farther away from the two demon-kids pillow-‘nest’ than Stan and the kids had all put their bean bag chairs.

That had the kid blinking at him, at least. "You said you’d help me with anything until we’re back home again," Stan said, glancing over his shoulder at the kid as Ford slowly settled down next to him on the roof, handing off his own bedroll to him. "What happens if I decide we’re not leaving tomorrow night?"

Bill just smiled at him.

\-----

(MizBill Interlude)

Aaaauuuggh! You know that thing where there's this huge spoiler that you know and you just REALLY want to tell someone?! But I can't! I have to keep my mouth shut.

Oh gosh I'm so worried about what's going to happen! I hope it’s a happy ending but that's going to be on Stan whether it happens or not. But he's a good man. I'm sure he would be able to accept it. Or at the very least, that he wouldn't abandon that Stanford even after he learns the truth.

Because that would be too sad. Even if Ford is a buttface!

I still wouldn't want him to lose Stan.

That would be too sad.

Am I too forgiving to still want him to be able to be happy even after his insensitive words towards Bill? Actually, once they all learn the truth, it would be like dramatic irony and part of myself actually thinks that would be karma. That Stanford accuses Blue of lying about having a brother? He says something like _that_ to Bill? Well, payback’s a bitch.

I wonder if Ford might actually learn his lesson after all this is over? Or would that spoiled brat continue sitting on his high horse?

More than anything, I just hope Stan will be alright. Bill thinks this is going to be great but I don’t think he really understands how this is going to make Stan feel. Or at least, how I think this is gonna make Stan feel...

\-----

(BlueBill Interlude)

Bill was pleased. Everything was going according to plan.

That Stanley would see EXACTLY what had happened in the past, _AND WHY_. That Stanford would be taken down -- HA! -- one _measly_ peg? More like SEVERAL RUNGS DOWN THE LADDER! And Bill? Would be _thoroughly_ and _completely_ entertained by ALL of it! ...Really, he was looking _forward_ to seeing how Stanley handled things, once everything hit. It looked like Stanley might actually be stubborn enough to stick around and really SEE _**EVERYTHING**_ through! (And Bill was really VERY INTERESTED in seeing what his Stanley decided to do. How he would ‘handle it’, all of it, _everything!_ )

And when all was ‘said’ and ‘done’... when they all got _back_...

Maybe Miz could help run… just a SMALL bit of interference for him, really -- without any risk to herself! Maybe just a _small_ bit of distraction without _ANY_ blame -- and in the midst of that minor chaos, Bill would bring Stanley’s twin-brother back.

And everything would be just fine.

Stanley would have his entire family, entirely un-messed-with. No problems with the agreement, there!

That Stanford would lose Stanley, because with what Stanley saw HERE and realized THERE, he (...that Stanford!!...) would NOT call Stanley his brother anymore. --That Stanford would decide that he’d lost Stanley! That idiot Stanford would give Stanley up, _all on his own!_ Because that would be what that Stanford had _decided_ , and nobody else could say or do anything that would ever change his mind, once he did that. (Moron. That Stanford had NO IDEA what a BROTHER actually was! Let alone what one was WORTH.)

And Stanley wouldn’t lose that idiot Stanford, because that Stanford was Bill’s Six-fingered Hand. They were both a part of his Zodiac. So everything would be fine.

And none of them were going ANYWHERE unless Bill said so. They were all _HIS._

...If Stanley wanted to take a whirlwind tour of the multiverse to get away from that Stanford for awhile, though, Bill certainly wouldn’t be adverse to the idea! HA!

\---

3rd person POV

Nothing happened at the pawnshop all night. Nobody came in, nobody went out, and as far as either Stan or Ford could tell (glancing at each other), there were no big fights that happened indoors, either.

Ford almost looked disappointed.

Everyone had eventually slept (except Ford, no matter how much Stan glared at him and tried to get him to at least take shifts with him), and Stan had downright stared at the way Miz had curled up beside Bill -- not at Miz, but at Bill. Because the kid had not only let her do it, but he’d seemed to try and ‘curl up’ right back, sort of back-to-back with her in return. And Miz, for her part, had spent a good half-hour [humming](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKAag99W8OE) out music softly to Bill, until her brother had finally calmed down from all the ‘excitement’ of taunting Ford earlier, and finally fallen asleep.

(Ford would have stared himself, but he’d had to split his attention between the demons and the house above the pawnshop, so it was more of a series of long glances, with even-longer glances-away in-between.)

And, of course, as Stan had been pretty sure was going to happen, Ford was absolutely mentally (and physically) exhausted by the time he and the kids had woken up again. ...and Miz. The human demon ended up waking up before Bill did, blinking blearily into the sunlight. (Stan had a feeling that that might be a thing, given when the kid usually woke up in the mornings, and how late he usually wanted to sleep in...)

"Ford, c’mon," Stan told his brother. "You gotta sleep sometime. --Look," Stan said, pointing down at the sidewalk. "They’re walkin’ off to school. Nothin’ to do about it, now," Stan said. "Right?"

"I could follow them," Ford said, not quite under his breath, and Stan gave him a long look.

"And do what," Stan asked him sarcastically, "Hold his hand as he crosses the street, and try and give that presentation for him?" Stan rolled his eyes, and Ford felt uneasy, and a little embarrassed and ashamed by this point.

Ford looked down at the sidewalk with a bit of a frown. Was it possible that Stan had been right last night? Had Bill just been… messing with them the entire time? (...That didn’t _feel_ right to him, though.)

Ford jolted in place when Miz started singing. The Stans both turned to see the dragon-demon-used-to-be-human leaning against the side of the roof, singing softly with her eyes closed.

_"[Oh father, mother dear, I'm sorry for what I've done~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWCXndbcvaU)"_ she was quiet but the music carried easily. _"My legs are trembling as I stand and suck on my thumb~"_

The twins glanced over at her after awhile, and then back at Bill as the older demon stirred restlessly in place at the sound of the music in his sleep. _"Oh brother, sister dear, I guess that this is the end~ with broken shoes in hand~ I'll never turn back again~"_

Stan let out a sigh and got up slowly, to make his way over to the kid just as slowly. Miz was now humming the instrumental part. She waved lazily at Stan, eyes still closed. (Yeah, must’ve really fixed the headband thing right, then, if she was seein’ him without needing her eyes open.)

_"I've found a better piece of pattern paper to use~ even if the old was fine, I'll start all over anew~"_ She opened her eyes, gazing up at the sky. 

Stan nodded to her, then came close enough to the pillow-’nest’ the kid was still curled up within, to lean over him and say, "Hey, kid. Wake up."

_"Oh what's it like to be so loved? As I grapple for~ scissors sharp enough and large enough~ to cut this face I abhor~"_

"--Why are you singing that?" Ford cut in, somewhat on edge. He couldn’t figure out the point of it. (Bill’s songs had always had some pointed meaning to them, in his experience, but this one seemed to be all over the place.)

Miz glanced over. "Because I love this song." She turned her face back to the sky.

"About cutting people’s faces with scissors," Ford said, almost deadpan. (Bill stirred and shifted a bit again, as Stan talked to him again, telling him to wake up.)

"About cutting _mine,_ " Miz responded softly. Ford shuddered slightly; that was his only response. _"Hey did you hear them? Words of wisdom because god has said it so~ but where's my mind gone? This is all wrong~"_ She was starting to dance lightly, stepping around pillows without even looking.

Ford was still staring at her, worried that there was a deeper meaning there that he might simply be missing. (...and thinking of what would happen if she decided to cut 'her own face’ in _someone else's_ body…)

_"Why not? I don't know!"_ she tilted her head forward. _"Although it's painful as I disdainful~ly hold the future that I sewed~ I pulled the string along the seams until the gap is closed~"_

"Mm." Bill slowly sat up sleepily, blinking. " _-gap-is-closed~_ " he echoed out without realizing it, with multiple odd harmonics underlying the repeated melodic tone. He swayed in place slightly, and blinked again, then seemed to wake up a bit more. He lifted his head up properly, and looked around.

Stan watched this without comment. The kid looked oddly tense, but also slightly relaxed. Not really at-ease, though.

And then the kid looked up at Stanley.

"Kid," said Stan, and Bill rubbed at the side of his head absently with the side of his right hand, frowning up at him slightly.

"...Did you figure it out while I was asleep?" the kid asked, peering up at him, and that left Stanley blinking.

"No, kid," Stan said.

And to this, Bill gave him a half-smile and a "Hm. Didn’t think you would," which turned into a half-grimace as the kid stretched all his muscles right where he sat, in-place.

Huh. So the kid had thought he _might_ be able to figure out, _maybe_ … whatever the thing he was taunting him with was... just by thinking about junk for awhile? Or was it something that had had to do with last night? Stan eyed the kid.

...Hell, he was probably overthinking it. Stan figured he should stick to what he knew; he wasn’t about to let the kid shove him around, and it was time to let the kid really realize what that meant.

"...You really think you’ve got an answer for everything, huh kid," Stan said, eyeing him from above, as the kid finished up his stretching. That got him another smile. Yeah, keep smilin’. Stan figured that’d change pretty quick, the second the demon realized that he had figured out something that the demon hadn’t, by coming up with a problem that the demon couldn’t solve. "Yeah, okay. Got a couple more questions for ya, then."

Bill tilted his head and looked up at him, waiting. Hell. Stan shook his head at the kid and thumbed a hand back towards the food crate. "Crackers for breakfast for you, first." He wasn’t about to give the kid an excuse to skip a meal now, accidentally or otherwise.

Stan managed to get them all gathered around the food crate together for breakfast without any major fights breaking out, and some beef jerky and some more pancakes into all of them (except the demons, who went with fish and crackers, young and older).

Miz hummed as she ate, a continuation of the song from before, by the sounds of it, but without the words this time. Bill… just ate. So did Ford. ...Well, the kids seemed to enjoy the pancakes, at least.

And, once they were through all that, and were mostly finished cleaning things up (by taking turns handing stuff off to the kid, for him to go stuffing all the things back into his hat), Stan announced, "We’re gonna spend the day on the boardwalk at the beach."

Ford gave him an odd look. "Are we?"

Stan side-eyed him back. "Me and the kid are," Stan told him. "So Miz is probably coming with. --Figure I’ll do some busking," Stan said. He wanted to be able to buy a few things. Didn’t sit right with him, depending on Miz for all this stuff, the blankets and pillows and fish, and depending on the kid for the magic and the… Stan sighed. He was gonna have to do somethin’ about payin’ back those gold coins once they got back, as it was. He was the adult guardian, and the agreement-holder; he was supposed to take care of these kinds of things -- not the kid, and not his little sister.

It was something he’d have to handle later. But for now… Stan glanced over at the kid. "You ever do anything like that before? Busking?" ...Well, the kid perked up and looked interested, at least. Stan turned back to Ford. "If you and the kids want to do something else, while I handle the demons, that’s fine." He took in a breath and added, "But I’d rather grab us a booth and have you sleeping in the back. I don’t want you sleep-deprived when it's getting closer to midnight." Heck, if the last time Ford got sleep-deprived was any indication... Maybe Ford wasn’t nearly as sleep-deprived as a couple weeks ago anymore, but Stan did _not_ want his brother out and about in public while he was exhausted _and_ wound up with nerves. (As far as Stan was concerned, Ford was actually in even _worse_ shape right now in some ways, than his brother had been after that two weeks of next to no sleep, a couple of weeks ago.)

Ford frowned slightly, then glanced over at Bill. Then he glanced over at the niblings, who shared a look with each other, before looking back up to him.

After a beat, Dipper and Mabel looked over at Stan. "Grunkle Stan, do you not want us to help out with the busking?" Mabel asked him.

"Be easier if you were with me," Stan admitted. "Heh, Dipper’s already got a hat for collectin’ money in it," he added, tapping the brim.

Miz was thrilled at the idea of conning people with Stan. "I wanna learn to scam people!" Her tail wagged cheerfully before she shoved her tail back down and seemed to ‘push’ it back under the bottom of her shirt.

Stan let out a laugh. "A scam? Nah, we’re not really doin’ that today. --Could pickpocket a few folks, but the heat ain’t worth it." He slowly stood up. "C’mon." He waved them all towards the fire escape ladder mounted at the edge of the roof and down the side of the building.

Miz quickly changed her clothes and followed them down, floating out of laziness instead of making her way down the steps like the rest of them (Bill included). The pajamas she was wearing shifted into a loose blue dress with black trim, and thin pants underneath. Dipper noted that Miz seemed to be matching herself to Bill's colors. He wanted to write that down too. Maybe it meant something? (Really though, Miz just thought it would be fun to match colors. Besides, half of Bill’s hair was a pretty shade of blue that reminded her of Will, it was… nice…)

Once they'd all clambered down the fire escape and were down at street level, Bill was the one who actually prompted Stan first with, "...Questions?"

"Yeah." Stan got to walking side-by-side with him, Miz trailing behind by not so much. The kids were in front of him, with Ford leading the way. "First question: you’re so sure about nobody dying, fine. You ain’t always right. What happens if anybody _does_ die?"

Bill didn’t even blink. "I roll back time in the area, until they’re no longer dead."

Miz raised her hand. "I can also just repair their body and shove their Soul back in." She was walking backward carelessly, somehow not tripping over anything.

Stan blinked at them both. ...Right. Uh. He took a mental breath, and kept plowing on. "Second question: you said nobody dies. What about anything worse than death?"

Bill blinked at him this time. "No, nothing worse than death." He glanced up at Stan, then away again. "If you don’t like anything, you can fix it. I’ll help."

Stan let out a breath. Right. At least that was one giant-ass loophole off the list. (Wasn’t like he hadn’t talked about ‘worse than death’ mental and physical attacks before, as part of the whole agreement and everything else. Kid had a pretty decent grasp of that one, even if he usually got the ‘lesser boundaries’ on stuff pretty wrong still.) "Third question: what happens if I want to stay here for longer than a few days."

Bill just shrugged. "Then we stay."

Stan eyed him. "A few weeks?" Bill shrugged. "A few months?" Stan pushed. Bill looked up at him.

"Time isn’t a problem," Bill said to him.

Stan frowned down at the kid. The kid had said something like that before they’d left. ...No, not _something_ like that, hell. The kid had said the _exact same thing_.

"More than two months, and the summer’s over," Stan pointed out slowly, wondering what he was missing here. He knew that _the kid_ knew that the kids had to be back home in California after that. (...Hell, he was pretty sure the kid was up to something about tryin’ to find a way for the kids not to leave, the way the demon kid had been asking after all sorts of information on the high school registration process, beginning to end -- _and_ transfers -- and prowling around online for even more info when Stan didn’t get him things from the school fast enough.)

"Brother controls time. The summer back in your dimension will not end until he wants it to," Miz said absently as she tried to balance on a fence, waving her arms for balance. (Dipper frowned at her. He could see that she was cheating -- her feet weren’t even touching the fence half of the time that she was ‘walking’ along!)

Stan frowned up at her. "Their parents will still want ‘em back two months from now, however long that feels to ‘em."

Bill let out a laugh. "Not a problem!" The kid looked at Miz. "Easier than that: I can control what _time_ the portal out of here connects to when I made it, back in Dimension 46’\ for the connection there." Then the kid looked at him and told him, "I can set it for only a minute or two after we left, if I want!"

"...If _I_ want," Stan said slowly.

Bill tilted his head at him. "Yes?" Bill agreed, not seeming to see the problem there. (...Yeah, okay. Fair. Not like Stan was plannin’ on shooting himself in the foot, picking a bad time for them to get back there okay, makin’ ‘nonlinear time loops’ the kid had a hard time handling, or whatever -- not if he could help it. Didn’t want to piss off the kid for no reason, or have to send the kids back home ‘early’ himself. Speaking of…)

"Fine," Stan said. "What if we ain’t talking months." He took in a breath. "What if we’re talkin’ _years_ ," he asked of the kid. ...Because Stan was pretty sure he could out-stubborn the triangle if he had to, in trying to figure out this ‘Ford losing him’ problem. Not that he was planning on taking things that far, but the kid couldn’t just--

"Years means that Pine Tree and Shooting Star grow up here," Bill pointed out, and yeah, Stan knew the kid wasn’t stupid.

"Yeah," Stan agreed. "And their parents would notice that. So what would you do about _that?_ " Stan asked him, thinking he was going to stump the kid hard with that one, if not the next--

Except Bill just shrugged and kept walking along as he said almost thoughtlessly, "Kick them both into the Mindscape, de-age their bodies, have them settle right back in after, all memories and their full Selves intact." Then Bill only hesitated for a moment, to raise a hand, palm-down, and say, "Might need to tweak the brain bits a bit--" Bill said, making an odd half-puppeteering half-surgically-precise series of jerking gestures with his fingers, "--to make everything-physical consistent with their Minds again." Bill lowered his hand. "More than a day and a sleep between and things start to diverge a bit!" the kid said, almost consideringly, as he made a 'what can you do?’ gesture with his hand, before dropping it to his side.

Stan stared.

"I could do what what I did with my Friends and just stop their bodies from aging in general," Miz pointed out.

"I could do that, too," Bill said, "But that’s more invasive, and harder to do with strictly-magic or only-science than weirdness."

Stan looked over at Miz slowly, then back to the kid.

And then it sort of hit him exactly what kind of a trap that he and his family were in.

Stan thought as he walked, and he looked away from the two demons for a moment, and pulled in a slow breath, as it occurred to him. As it really started to _hit_ him. Because Miz had talked about trapping her ‘friends’ (family?) with her yesterday, up in the attic. Bill had said that she hadn’t done that, because they had free will and they could die and _she wouldn’t stop them_ and would let them do it, would go along with it if they killed themselves to get away from her.

And Stan really hadn’t understood any of that. He definitely hadn’t understood what any of that _meant_ , until now.

...And on top of it all, the pair of them could both _bring people back from the dead_.

_Bill_ had just talked about pulling them all back from death like it was **nothing special** , not even hard, even without using his weird-powers or whatever. He’d talked about being able to _control time_ , being able to _make them younger again_ but still have them _remember_ everything…

And _Bill_ had never said _anything_ about **not** trapping anyone -- _like his Zodiac_ \-- with **him**. And Bill considered his Zodiac to be _HIS_ ; Stan knew that.

If they died, Bill could bring them back. If Bill _killed_ them, he could bring them back. If they tried to escape, even if they managed to catch a portal and got away from him for _years_... Bill could probably pick a time and grab them whenever he wanted, as long as it took him to find them again -- which hadn’t taken very long with the kids (and, hell, he’d done it _with_ a damaged Eye, while rushing things). And once Bill had them back, however long it took or however long he wanted to take, Bill could just _de-age_ them all once he had them back and pick up _right_ where he'd left off with them, like nothing had ever happened in- between. Like they had never left or managed to escape him.

If Bill wanted them around… they weren’t getting away from him.

Stan glanced up to look at his brother, who was still moving along at the front of their procession. From the _very_ tense set of his brother’s shoulders, Stan got the suspicion that Ford had been listening to their conversation, and hadn’t exactly known all of this before… and Ford had _already_ been afraid of the triangle enough to want to kill him for good.

Stan pulled in another breath, and let it out again. ...Well, fine. He’d just pull the ripcord for them, then. If it ever got that far. Wasn’t like he wasn’t planning on keeping his family safe from the start.

If the idea of Bill doing that to them, basically trapping them with him for who-knew-how-long (...how long had Miz known _her_ friends?...), was something that his family wasn’t okay with -- and let’s face it, they definitely weren’t -- then Bill’s very presence around them after a point would be considered a mental attack. They could tell him ‘no’ and ‘stop’, and… Bill would have to leave, to leave them alone. Because Stan would hold Bill to it.

Stan didn’t exactly like the idea of his family dying, and him being left all alone, but…

...if the alternative was Bill bringing his family back to life and, hell, effectively torturing them for all of eternity? Stan would stick around with the triangle instead, keeping the agreement going -- because as long as he was doing _that_ , he could tell the kid that bringing his family back from the dead (after living really good lives, Stan was gonna make sure of that), when they’d made it clear that they’d wanted to stay dead after they died, would be ‘messing with his family’. And the kid knew that was a line that Stan was _never_ going to be okay with him crossing.

The kid wasn’t going to blink first. Stan was pretty sure of that by this point. If Stan kept the agreement going, and didn’t break it himself, the kid wouldn’t break it first. --Whatever was going on with the triangle demon, the kid had shown him a couple times now, with how flexible he’d been about things, that he really _did_ want to keep the agreement going, for whatever reason.

Stan figured that he’d have to figure out that reason pretty soon, yeah, but whatever it was, it was pretty solid. He knew that much. --Maybe it was pure spite, the kid always having somebody else break whatever-it-was on him _first_ , but Ford had said (and the kid had admitted) that sometimes the triangle demon _had_ been the one to break a deal first. This wasn’t one of the kid’s deals (and hell, the kid looked down on deals as the worst and least-trustworthy of the things he’d be willing to do), but...

"Kid, you know I want you to not break the agreement, right?" Stan asked him.

"Yes," he got back in reply.

"What if I asked you right now, to never break it?" Stan asked of Bill next. (The kid had said he'd help him while they were here, after all. Could he get away with just straight-up asking him for a straight answer about all of this, right now?)

"...I’m not breaking it," the kid told him slowly, watching him, and Stan let out a breath in frustration.

"Kid," Stan tried again, "What do you want from me, anyway?" He heard Ford let out a strangled sound. "--Ford, I ain’t talkin’ to you, I’m just asking the kid," Stan told his brother, trying to stop that one early.

"You don’t write a demon a blank check!" Ford ground out, looking back over his shoulder at him as they walked.

"I’m not doing that," Stan told his brother, "I’m just asking--" Stan sighed at the look on his brother’s face, that he was giving him. "...Ford, you got _no sleep_ last night," he tried instead, and watched his brother struggle with knowing that, and knowing his reactions were off right now, and _knowing_ that he still wasn’t feeling well from getting kicked in the head with the idea of _multiple Bill Ciphers existing_ only a couple days ago on top of that.

Stan watched Ford try really damn hard to take that into consideration… and then watched his brother shoo the two niblings up in front of him, as they hit one of the longer streets towards the boardwalk. Stan debated if he should make Miz follow them too or not, instead of trailing along behind them. ...Whatever, wasn’t a huge problem. Didn’t really matter anyway; she’d probably still hear them, wherever she decided to walk within their little procession.

Stan turned back to address Bill again. "Kid, what do you want from me?" he repeated. The kid looked at him, but didn’t reply before looking away. … _Great_. He tried again. "What do I need to do, to keep you on my side?"

(Miz huffed and skipped forward a little in case they wanted privacy; she could still hear them though. She was curious about this, too. ...Ford himself carefully steered away from walking too close to her, annoyed and in general feeling aggrieved.)

"We’re on the same side," Bill said, not looking at Stan. "My side, your side. Our side. It’s…" The kid let out a sigh, instead of saying ‘the same side’, like he usually did. (Huh. Progress?) "You want to do what you want to do? Say it’s your side I’m on? While giving me things? That’s fine. You’re still my right-hand man," Bill said (while Ford choked). "As long as I don’t cross your line." Bill added, looking away from Stan.

"As long as you don’t cross my line," Stan affirmed, trying not to listen to the somewhat-silent sound of Ford freaking out in front of him -- from the lack of actual coherent words, to the sound of his brother’s stumbling footsteps.

"Really, should’ve known better before, anyway," said Bill. "Just because that Stanford is my Six-fingered Hand doesn’t mean he’s really anything other than just a ‘hard stop’," the kid grumbled out at Stan. "But YOU… you _get things done_ ," Bill said to him. "Would be better if--" Bill stopped talking, and stopped in place, as Ford stopped walking, turned around, and got right up in Bill's face, standing firmly in place on the sidewalk.

"Ford…" Stan said slowly, coming to a stop next to the kid, as the niblings and Miz stopped and turned around, too. "We’re just talking."

"No," Ford said quietly. "You aren’t." Stan saw his brother pull in a breath. "You’re talking about sides, and you’re talking about--"

"--a puppet-turned-pawn standing _right in front_ of me who doesn’t even have the _sense_ to get out of my--" Bill began caustically (even as Ford reached for his gun), but they both stopped when Stan pushed his way between them, leaving his back to Bill.

"Ford," Stan said warningly. "Back down. Now."

Ford let out a soft and shaky laugh, staring at him, eyes wide. "You… you’ve really picked his side." He looked a little scared.

"Kid’s on **my** side," Stan repeated to Ford, and this was _how many times_ he’d had to say it to him, now? "--My side. Understand? He’s mine," Stan told his brother, and-- Stan stopped himself short at the ‘hard intake of breath’ sound he heard behind him.

He twisted his head around, to look down at the kid. And Stan realized that the kid’s eyes were wide, and he was staring up at him while blinking hard.

...What the hell? Why had the kid reacted to him like that? What had he _said_ that would…?

Then Stan blinked.

Stan turned in place, just slightly more towards the triangle demon kid, and he repeated: "You’re mine, yeah? You’re on my side." ...and Stan _paid attention_ as he said it. And Stam saw the differences in the expression the kid got when he said each of those two things. (Really, convincing the kid to ‘drop down further’ into that body of his had been one of Stan’s better ideas. Kid had practically no poker face to begin with, but now...?)

Well, damn. This was the same thing as that stupid ‘you don’t have to tell me’, ‘you can tell me if you want’ thing all over again, wasn’t it? Except this time, it was wanting the kid _on his side_ , and...

"Kid," Stan said. " _Bill._ **I want you.** Understand?"

And Stan watched as the kid made a noise like he’d just been punched in the gut, and stared up at him in absolute wide-eyed surprise, and a shock so complete that it bordered on total disbelief.

...Wow. This was kind of, well... _pathetic_ , almost. And so freaking messed up. Kid wanted to be wanted. It was that simple. ...Shit. (...was that really all it took?)

Miz was grinning widely at the two of them and almost squealed. "Congratulations!" she cheered wholeheartedly with her hands in the air. She looked absolutely _delighted_.

Stan glanced back over his shoulder at her, and was shocked himself because... holy shit, that was _really_ **all** it took?! What the hell had Ford been _doing_ \--

Stan turned towards Ford, looking for _something_ from his brother, he wasn’t sure what-- ~~(confirmation that he wasn’t completely crazy and just hearing things, maybe?)~~

...and Ford looked absolutely ill. He was also staring at _Stan_ , not either of the demon kids.

"You can’t--" Ford began, and Stan clenched his jaw.

"He’s mine," Stan ground out at his brother, "He ain’t yours anymore. I told you that before, back home, in the kitchen, _weeks_ ago. So don’t go complaining about it now." Because if his brother was gonna complain about it, then he should have--! ...Hell, not believing the kid would go along with it was one thing, but-- ~~(Shit. _Shit._ \--Was that why the kid had been staring at him like that, that night, after he'd gone back to the bedroom and brought up whether the kid had been listening in on…? --The kid had asked if he'd _meant it._ The kid had been talking about... --This was _actually a thing_ with the kid. Holy hell.)~~

Ford seemed to be struggling with something, but damnit, right now Stan hardly cared.

\--up until Ford pushed right past him, and said straight to the kid, almost desperately: "Leave him alone! _Take me instead!_ "

Stan wasn’t sure if he felt like he’d just been dropped in a volcano, or dipped in ice.

He’d barely managed to get his head back around to start to try and talk down the kid (--shit, what the hell would happen if Bill said ‘yes’?), when the kid’s look of absolute rage kind of up and hit him in the brainpan.

"YOU AREN’T _INTERCHANGEABLE_!" was what the kid screamed out at Ford, and it left Stan pulling in a breath hard, and Ford actually backing up a step. "And YOU are a LIAR!" the kid spat out at Stan’s brother next. "You-- _YOU_ \--!!" the kid was shaking in place, fists clenched, struggling for words.

"Damnit kid, just talk to him like you talk to me," Stan ground out at him, because he was tired of dealing with this shit, trying to play telephone between these two -- talk about _games_ \-- and if the kid would just _talk_ to Ford like he was talking to him-- if his _brother_ could just _listen_ to Bill for _two seconds_ without acting like he was losing his goddamn mind in the process-- "Just try and act like we’re--"

"--you _aren’t_ interchangeable, I can’t TALK to him like I talk to you," the kid rounded on him, "-- _you’re_ actually **SMART**." Stan flinched. "I-- he--" Bill got that struggling look again.

"Talk to _me_ , kid," Stan tried next, and that got him a--

"--pair of kings with both the same faces, face cards, but it’s a rush and a _race_ to the bottom for _him_ , lower and lower and flattening himself out more and more, down past a jack, a possession, a puppet, a pawn, a ten, nine, eight -- blow straight past six! -- all the way down to a TWO-DIMENSIONAL _two_ until he can’t go any lower, still trying to match you, struggling to MATCH you--" Bill chattered out, "--down and down but he _doesn’t understand_ , **refuses** to understand that you’re **not** aces-low, you’re ACES HIGH--"

Bill was shaking and then he shook his head, looked up at Stan, glaring. "You’re _not_ him, he’s _not_ you -- _**you think I can’t tell the difference?!**_ " Bill demanded out of him. "--I wasn’t THINKING STRAIGHT BEFORE! Can’t tell the difference between you? _\--I WASN’T EXPECTING HIM TO LIE!_ "

Bill brought a hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "He wasn’t supposed to-- I shouldn’t have to _CHECK!_ To see if he would try and checkmate ME! That _YOU_ were--!" Bill shook his head frantically from side to side. "He wasn’t supposed to-- He _was_ supposed to-- He _doesn’t_ \-- He _WON’T_ \-- My Six-fingered Hand was _going_ to be my right-hand man! _**SYMMETRY!**_ I-- nn--"

Bill gritted his teeth and shook in place again, and Stan got something of a deepening bad feeling about this...

Miz winced. "Hey kids? How about we just… step away a bit more and give them some… time to sort this out." Stan was grateful Miz was getting the niblings out of the way before this got any more nuts. (He was definitely going to have to give her a pat on the head later for this one.)

Miz herded the children farther down the street, muttering something about, "Of course he would try to take Bill back after being the one to break it off with him. Seriously, what does he even want? Can’t he just make up his mind already!" (Stan mentally took back the thing about the head pat. And it was a good thing the kids were telling Miz off and setting her straight on that one, from what little Stan heard from down the street that was travelling back his way, because Stan _didn’t_ have the time to try and handle the two of these demons at once, right that very same minute.)

"-- _It’s fine!_ It’s fine, I don’t **need** him anymore, _I’m done with him_ , I have _YOU_ now!" Bill said, looking up at him, with an almost feverish look to his eyes, as insane as Stan had ever seen him, and a grin so wide that… that... (Holy shit.)

Stan stared down at the kid, watching this sickening display, and all he could think was...

"YOU’RE _better than him_ anyway!" the kid told him, "You can actually _**FIX**_ things!" and at the last, the look the kid was giving him morphed into a terrible mixture of a kind of mad glee and desperate _**want**_ , and… damnit, if this was _anything_ like what his brother had had to deal with before, Stan had _not_ given him enough credit… but he had a sick feeling that Ford had _never_ gotten anywhere _near_ this far with the kid, not even _**close**_.

...and if Stan had to guess, he’d bet that the distance between them was the difference between wanting the kid to give up half his free will and be a backstabbing ‘friend’ _without even knowing what he was asking for_ , and just straight-up _telling the kid that he wanted him_.

(Seriously, somebody needed a damn punch to the face. Maybe that goddamn stupid ‘god’-lizard that the kid kept insisting was stupid as fuck.)

The kid was panting and swaying in place and staring up at him with a mad sort of glitter in his eyes, and the next thing the kid said was, "You’re not LYING to me, ARE YOU? You-- you’re MINE," the demon said. "You WANT to be MINE!"

"Stanley--" came the faint warning from behind him, the desperate call, and Stan had figured it out finally: his brother had _no idea_ what he was talking about. (Damn him.)

Kid was a goddamn mirror, most days. You tossed something at him, he tossed it right back at you. You just had to be ready to catch it, to not toss anything at the kid that you couldn't handle yourself. --Color within the lines? The kid was game for that; he’d try it too, try to match it -- try to match _you_ , to see if he could. Just to see if he could. --Give him an inch, he’d go an inch; then he’d come back, and give you one back, too, just to see what you’d do with it. He got _curious_ ; he wanted to see what you'd do.

(...Give him a reason to trust you, and make him too dizzy to think twice about it? He’d take it. And take it. And take it. ...And then look down and realize what he held in his hands, when he finally had a chance to think. And then… he’d want to keep taking more of it. Because you’d cheated, yeah, sure, but you’d _also_ shown him that you could be trusted, too, because where were the chains and the confining cage, the lock on the door and the painful blows? --There weren't any. There wasn’t _any_ of that, and the kid learned _quick_. The kid paid attention.)

The kid learned, and the kid listened. But the kid was _**still a kid**_. And he didn’t want much. He wanted a choice. He wanted to choose. ~~(He’d said he hadn’t had a choice with his Zodiac. ...And they hadn’t chosen _him_ , either. Shit. Was that why...)~~ \--The kid wanted everything, and he’d trade it all for a couple of _scraps_ , because the kid didn’t _care_ about _everything_ , he only wanted...

...his brother. (--Match this card. I’m not letting go of this. ‘I already drew my hand.’ _\--You’re not taking this from me._ )

And some help he could actually _rely_ on. (--I’ll let you stack the deck. What do you think I need? ‘...Got any triangles?’ _\--Give me what I want._ )

To get him back. (--As many cards as you want. Show me what you can bring to the table. ‘...How about a Liam?’ _\--Give him to me, I WANT HIM BACK._ )

And Stan knew _exactly_ what he was doing. (--All in? ‘Bets in, cards down; call.’ _\--What do I need to do to **have you** HELP ME **get him back!**_ )

Stan dropped a hand down on top of the kid’s head, the kid who was staring up at him waiting (for a trillion years, _waiting_ ~~but _why_ did it end up having to be _him?_~~ ), and Stan bent down just a little bit, just enough to look Bill Cipher right in the eye. --Both of them.

And Stan said, "Bill, you’re on my side. **I want you.** \--And if you think I’m _ever_ gonna let you go, then _you’re out of your goddamn mind._ "

Ford choked behind him.

But the kid just _lit up_ like a damn Christmas tree, and gave him the widest grin Stan had ever seen.

Endgame.

(-- _Gotcha._ )

You lose. I win. I get _you_. (--And you win... _me_.)

...See, kid? It doesn’t have to be so hard. Isn’t it better this way?

~~(Stan had thought it would be harder. ...Why did the kid keep _letting_ him cheat? He set the rules, and then he let Stan break them? Why did he even have them in the first place, if he was going to let him cheat to win?)~~

\---

"So that Stanford _isn’t_ trying to make brother take him back?" Miz raised her eyebrows. "Despite saying, and I quote, ‘Take me instead!’..."

"He was trying to save Grunkle Stan," Mabel told her firmly. "He thought Grunkle Stan was in trouble and needed saving."

"Probably the puppet-thing," Dipper muttered. "Taking _him_." Because that was probably the worst thing Great-Uncle Ford could think of. Because if Grunkle Stan said he wanted _Bill_ \-- not what Bill _knew_ , or what Bill _thought_ , or what Bill could _do_ for him, but _Bill himself_ \-- then… Bill would think that he could ask for _anything_ out of Grunkle Stan and that Grunkle Stan would give it to him. And Great-Uncle Ford would probably be afraid that that was what Grunkle Stan had meant when he’d said it, too. Right?

The twins looked at each other as they thought about that, though, and then looked back at Bill and their Grunkle. And Bill looked…

The twins exchanged another glance. _Did_ Grunkle Stan need saving? Bill looked completely _nuts_ right now. ...And now the twins were actually a little worried.

Miz sighed. "So that wasn’t Ford trying to rekindle some past relationship?"

Mabel turned back to Miz and her mouth dropped open, while Dipper just groaned out: "They’re NOT a c-couple!" The teenager looked horribly uncomfortable at having to have said this out loud, as he pulled his hat brim down. (Why did she keep on thinking that?!)

Miz frowned. "Well, that Stanford isn’t brother’s type anyway, ‘least I don’t think he is…" she said, and Dipper groaned again and pulled down on his hat harder.

Mabel sighed. "Miz, please stop telling us about Bill’s type." Miz shut her mouth. Mabel thought about it for a bit, though. She kind of couldn’t not. She was a romance expert, and what Miz had said made absolutely no sense to her. "Why do you keep assuming they’re… a couple?" she asked Miz.

Miz’s response to this was a deadpan, "I read too much fanfiction."

The kids frowned back at her with identical, confused expressions. Miz sighed and looked down at her feet as she walked. "You’re too young for me to explain this to…" she mumbled, "--And Stan would probably accuse me of corrupting you or something." Miz looked back up at the twins. "Does this really upset you guys that much?" She was honestly curious.

Dipper nodded, shuddering in revulsion. "They’re _not_ romantically interested in each other. Nope. None of that. Never." There was no way.

Miz stared at him for a bit before shrugging. "Ok. If you’re sure." She paused. "I guess it’s a _good_ thing they’re not into each other. Would make an awful couple."

The twins heaved a sigh of relief, glad that Miz was going to drop this idea.

Miz tilted her head as she thought of something. "So… what IS Ford’s type anyway? Didn’t he date a Siren? Or am I getting my dimensional sets mixed up again?"

Dipper groaned loudly as his sister enthusiastically jumped on the subject shift with a: "--Yes, he did!"

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My AN:**  
>  *eg*


	10. Chapter 79: Lie until you're not lying anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Running cons or running a booth, are they the same thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 89 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/43744150). It was first posted on Apr 22, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\-----

Miz hummed cheerfully as she skipped along beside Dipper and Mabel, looking around at all the people and activity along the boardwalk. "You think we can make some money off performing music for spare change?" she asked.

Mabel gasped, slapping her hands to her cheeks. "--I've always wanted to be a street performer!" she told Miz, going starry-eyed at the thought.

Dipper rolled his eyes. "We don’t have permission. Don't we need to, like, rent the space?"

As Mabel kept Miz busy chatting about rented spaces and busking, Dipper kept glancing back at where Bill and his grunkle and great-uncle were. Now that they had finally convinced Miz that their great uncle Ford was NOT interesting in Bill in ANY way… and were not going to be discussing his possible taste in cryptids he hadn't already dated anymore (...which was a grand total of _one_ of them that Mabel didn’t really know enough about to talk about it with Miz, to keep her distracted from their great-uncles while they… uh...)

...What _were_ Grunkle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford doing with Bill?

"Hey…" Dipper said to Miz. (He wasn’t too worried about asking her things at this point -- she listened to ‘stop’s, she never seemed to get angry at him for asking her questions, and despite what Great-Uncle Ford had said, Dipper was pretty sure she wasn't lying to them all that much -- he was mostly just worried that the answer he might get from her would be horrible enough that he’d need to tell her to ‘stop’.) "What was _that_ all about?"

Miz was quiet for a bit, her energetic skipping slowed until she was walking slowly and then finally stopped. "If you were alone for years and years with no one who cared about you or wanted you…" she brought up quietly, "...then any sort of kindness would be enough to catch your interest." _An awkward smile and a soft pillow, a cheerful grin and a stupid pun…_ "And if someone actually wants you?" _A large white hand, a comforting rumble..._ "Then you'd do anything to try and keep them." She shrugged. "That's how I feel at least. And brother is similar. Though I think he's got some stuff about his Zodiac that I don't fully understand yet."

...’His Zodiac’, meaning **them**. _Bill’s_ Zodiac. (‘Their’ Bill’s Zodiac. ...So what was _hers_ like, then?) Dipper stared at her.

"... It can't be that simple," Dipper deadpanned. Because why would Bill care if they _wanted_ him or not? And then Miz turned to look at him and Dipper shuddered. Miz was grinning; it was terrifying.

"I decided I liked Mabel within the first hour of meeting her," Miz told him. She tilted her head to the side. "I gave her a freebie." She took at step closer to Dipper (who not quite stepped back to get farther away from her; he definitely leaned back, though). "And I wouldn't mind giving her more. As long as I could be friends with her."

Dipper shuddered.

"O-oh…" Mabel said, biting her lip, unsure how to feel about that. (She didn’t think they were friends… and she felt a little bad that Miz seemed to think that maybe they were, or could be, with the way Miz felt about Grunkle Ford.)

Dipper pulled in a shaky breath…

And Great-Uncle Ford walked right up to them all, shoved an arm between Mabel and Miz, and kept on walking. It forced Miz to start quickly walking backwards, then turn around and keep going, to keep from running into him (or getting run into by him).

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance and scrambled to catch up.

"Rude!" Miz gasped, as Ford finally dropped his arm and slowed down his walking speed a bit.

"--Don’t go scaring the niblings," Ford told her succinctly, as he continued walking along, and his tone of voice was odd.

"...Is everything okay, Grunkle Ford?" Mabel asked him, as she and Dipper caught up. Miz grumbled and brushed imaginary lint off her dress, as she continued walking along with them three.

"Oh, yes," Ford said, "Everything is just perfect. The sun is shining, the seagulls are sounding off, we’re stuck in another dimension with two demons, and my brother just damned himself for all eternity. Everything is great!" he said with a borderline-nasty sort of artificial cheer, as he tried not to clench his fists at his sides, and kept on walking, leaving Bill and his brother behind. --Because apparently _that was what Stanley wanted_ out of his life.

Stan had just gotten turned and turned around by Bill Cipher. Ford had _warned_ him outright about that, about _exactly_ what Cipher would do! And Stan had fallen for it anyway. And now, as far as he could see, Ford couldn’t do a damn thing about it. (All he could do was wait for the fallout, after the inevitable crash when Bill was done _using his brother_ , and try to help Stan pick up the pieces of himself that were left after that, if there _was_ anything left of him after _handing himself over **willingly**_ to **that**.)

"I don't see why you're so upset." Miz mumbled. "Stan said it, he said it on his own. He chose it." She stared at the back of Ford's head. "If you wanted it, you should have--"

" _He doesn’t know what he’s doing_ ," Ford said, feeling almost short of breath. He felt dizzy starbursts behind his eyes at the thought of _wanting **that**_ \--

"I think he DOES. More than you do," Miz pointed out. Ford shuddered hard, and swallowed hard, and swore he tasted bile.

"No, he doesn’t, damn you," Ford said. " _Stop lying._ "

"...Grunkle Ford?" Mabel asked, knowing he had to be _extremely_ upset if he was cursing in front of them. "Maybe Grunkle Stan…"

"--He _couldn’t possibly_ ," Ford told them all, not quite cutting Mabel off as he continued his earlier line of thought and rebutted her tentative thought, all in one go. "Because Stan’s never actually seen what Bill is like for _any_ extended period of time _without that damn anchor holding him down._ "

(Both Mabel and Dipper winced and exchanged a glance at the second curse. --Make that REALLY _extremely_ upset.)

"Yeah, well, brother being messed up in the head because of YOUR Deal with him probably didn't make him capable of being at his best, either."

Ford stopped in place and turned on her, barking out, " _I knew him for nearly three years **before** that!_" He pulled in a breath. "And he isn’t at ‘his best’. He’s _never_ at his best! He’s _always_ at HIS WORST." Ford was wide-eyed and looking wild.

"You were ACQUAINTED. Did you ever KNOW him?" Miz asked. The younger twins were watching this conversation carefully, ready to shout ‘Stop!’ at any moment.

"I knew him for _three years_ , and I knew him for _thirty years_ , and _he never changes_ ," Ford told her. "The damn stupid deal I made _didn’t matter_. --He doesn’t change, he _never_ changes; he wasn’t _different_ , it was _just an excuse **at best**_ for him to--!" Ford cut himself off, shaking.

"Did you ever try to talk to him, like a real person?" Miz asked quietly, actually curious now. 

" _Of course I did_ , he was my _muse!_ " Ford said angrily. "I knew he was real! I knew that they weren’t just dreams! I knew that he was--" Ford stopped again, then shakily, "Why am I even _talking_ to you about this?" as he brought both hands up to his face, almost like he wanted to hide himself from her.

"--Where you both LISTENED to each other? Not just talk AT each other? And did you ever realize that he didn't understand what you meant?" Miz stepped closer, worried now.

"He was my muse, my partner, my _research assistant_. We _worked together_ , I--" Ford was talking like it was being dragged out of him, his breathing was going unsteady, and the kids were starting to look really concerned. "He understood me, he _always_ \--"

"--and you put him on a pedestal? You never thought that maybe he didn't always think the same way you did? That he wasn't perfect?" Miz asked sadly.

"He was-- he was--" Ford all but whispered out, starting to bend inwards on himself, and he was shivering like he was out in the dead of winter with no coat on to help him keep in any warmth.

Mabel rushed forward to give him a hug, as Dipper turned to Miz and said, very clearly, " **Stop.** "

Miz nodded and stepped back. "...I just wanted to understand," she whispered.

Dipper sighed. "Just don't ask anymore today. Okay?"

Miz nodded, keeping her mouth closed.

Dipper frowned as he watched Great-Uncle Ford kneel down shakily off-balance and get swept up in a hug by his sister.

"Look," Dipper said to Miz quietly, pulling down on his hat, and moving away a bit -- feeling tense as Miz followed him -- enough to give his Great-Uncle some space from the demon. "I think he needed to say it. That’s why Mabel and I didn’t say stop right away." He kept watching Great-Uncle Ford. "Great-Uncle Ford and Bill can’t… talk to each other," Dipper told her. "They just yell past each other and… Great-Uncle Ford hasn’t been talking, even though Mabel and I are _really_ sure he needs to. But it hurts him a lot sometimes when he does. So… don’t push him. Okay?" Maybe that was asking a lot from the demon who really didn’t seem to like his great-uncle -- heck, maybe it was stupid of him for even asking it and hoping that maybe she’d even try _not_ to hurt him that way… but Dipper had to _try_.

(And if she **didn’t** back off, then Grunkle Stan would finally have a reason to maybe _do something_ about the demon, finally. Dipper would _make sure_ Stan did, this time. Because what had been happening here, and on the rooftop? _Wasn’t_ okay. Bill had been messing with both the grunkle and their great-uncle _really_ badly. Dipper had almost asked Mabel to call off the ‘bet’ right then and there with him, with the whole ‘losing him’ thing Bill had done.)

Aaand Miz was just staring at him. "--You _really_ need to not push him on this stuff," Dipper elaborated, not quite glaring at Miz. "Okay?"

Miz nodded. "Ok." She glanced up at where Ford had buried his face into Mabel’s hair, arms wrapped around her like she was a life preserver. Dipper sort of shifted from foot to foot.

"...This is weird," Dipper said to Miz. "Just talking to you." Because it was. "I mean, you’re a killer-demon hitman assassin or something. And an alien dragon. And Bill’s sister." _’And crazy-dangerous and seriously messed-up,’_ though Dipper had enough sense not to say that thought out loud. (As far as Dipper was concerned, talking to her was a little like talking to Gideon, except with a different kind of having to look out for things. Neither Great-Uncle Ford or Grunkle Stan had told them even the broadstrokes of what they’d been talking to Miz about last night that Grunkle Stan -- and Bill -- hadn’t wanted them to hear about that whole ‘panicking’ and lashing out thing; but what they _had_ heard _had_ sounded _really_ messed-up, and she _was_ really dangerous. Even worse, the parts where Gideon would be annoying, she was interesting instead; it was worse because it probably made her even more dangerous -- Great-Uncle Ford had warned him about how some of the worst cryptids could be like that, drawing you in, and then...)

Dipper steeled himself a bit. He wanted to be a great cryptid researcher when he grew up. If he couldn’t handle a demonic dragon girl that would stop when he told her to (for at least a little while), then...

(Besides, Mabel was counting on him to distract her away from Great-Uncle Ford right now. He could definitely do that without panicking her. He was pretty good at talking with cryptids...)

"I never wanted to be a killer," Miz admitted. "All I wanted… back when everything began… was to help people… teach people…" Miz sighed. "But the only thing I seemed capable of doing… was hurting people. And they told me that if I was gonna do that anyway, I might as well do so for a reason… direct it to something productive." Miz rubbed her arm. "I just… wanted to be useful…"

DIpper stared at her, because _what_ the heck? "But-- how could you _not know_ not to listen to people like that?" Dipper said incredulously. He was only thirteen years old, and he'd known that one since halfway through the second grade! "I mean, you’re 600 billion years old, right? In human-Earth years? --Our universe isn’t even 14 billion years old. How can you not know that!" Dipper was having trouble even wrapping his head around that -- how long that was, and what it would be like to be that old. How could she not have figured that out by now? (...Was she _lying?_ )

Miz gave him a miserable smile. "Well, I wasn't that old when they first approached me, now was I? And after a while, I had a different reason for doing my jobs."

"How old were you?" Dipper asked her bluntly, looking over at her. (He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask about her other ‘different’ reason… he couldn’t think of even one other reason that might be even a little bit good. And that meant probably needing to tell her to ‘stop’ if he asked. He didn’t want to overdo using that if he didn’t have to. If he started pushing things like that, asking a bunch of questions on purpose that he knew he might have to ask her to ‘stop’ to... Miz either might stop talking, or might stop ‘stopping’. He and Mabel had talked about that, about Bill, about what might happen if they used it on him too much. And since Miz _was_ a Bill...)

"I'm not sure. Time didn't exist in the way you're familiar with back in the 2nd dimension."

"Well, how long ago was it, then?" Dipper asked her. And then he realized. "How old were you when you died? When you were human? ...Or thought you were?"

"...I was ...it was a few weeks after my 27th birthday?" Miz shrugged. "It's hard to remember anymore." She looked down at herself. "But this was what I looked like."

That was weird, she looked like a kid. "Really? Twenty-seven?" Dipper said, frowning.

Miz shrugged. "I never seemed to grow up. It wasn't too much of a problem. Though mommy used to pull on my arms to try and make me taller."

Dipper winced at the ‘pulling’ comment. "But… didn’t you know not to…" She’d been _twenty-seven!_

...Then Dipper thought of something really, really awful.

"Wait. You didn’t use to _kill_ people when you were human, did you?" Dipper sputtered out quickly, turning to face her. (He felt a little panic-y, and tried not to look like he wanted to run, but…)

"Of course not. I was an artist. Made handmade jewelry." she shook her head.

Dipper blinked at her, and began to relax, pulling in a breath unconsciously. "Huh? You made…" jewelry? "Really?" He looked at her in surprise.

Miz flicked her hands and a small pair of earrings appeared. Dipper recognized it as origami. Pandas. Panda earrings. She smiled softly. "It's silly isn't it?"

Dipper looked at it. (He was pretty well trained by his sister on the proper attentive response to give to somebody’s arts and crafts, by this point.)

"It doesn’t look silly," Dipper told her. Unless maybe they had silly grins on them, or something? (That would be the kind of thing Mabel would do.) He squinted at them. "...Are they supposed to?" Dipper held out his hands cupped together, so she could give them to him, so he could look over them more carefully. (He knew how to handle fragile stuff, Mabel tried out all sorts of crazy crafts sometimes.)

Miz handed them over. "Well, thinking that I went from artist to a demon god of chaos is silly," she told him.

Silly, right. "Mabel could probably give Bill a run for his money, if she had demon-weirdness powers," Dipper noted. And if what he’d seen Bill and Mabel do together was any indication, 'artist’ was probably in the top five qualifications for being a demon, at least. As far as he'd been able to determine, Bill seemed to like artsy and magic stuff at _least_ as much as science, and probably a lot more.

"Part of me knew that agreeing to kill people was wrong, but..." Miz told Dipper quietly, as he continued to look over the earrings. (She felt a little more comfortable explaining while he was at least a little distracted. Not staring at her, or frowning at her really judgmentally. It was easier when he was frowning at the earrings instead.) "I just...wanted him to like me. Just wanted anyone at all to tell me that I was _needed_."

"You did that because you were alone?" Dipper said. He was having a little trouble thinking hard about what she was saying and _carefully_ looking over the earrings at the same time. (Mabel had trained him well.) He gently shifted the panda-shaped earrings around in his palm, so he could look at them from the other side; they really looked like they were made of paper. "What happens if they get wet?" he asked her.

"They're varnished. Unless you go swimming or take a shower with them, they're fine." Miz sighed. (And Dipper was about to ask about the varnish, how she did that without the paper collapsing on her, when Miz went back and answered his first question with--) "Well, I was alone for a really long time. Do you know how many millions, billions of years it takes for planets to form? For life to evolve to the point where they are PEOPLE that you can actually talk to? I had no one else except Time Baby and Ax." She looked pained. "Ax sleeps all the time and Time Baby hated me on principle because of what I was. Because he's already gotten the timeline planned out and I was Bill Cipher, he planned out what I was supposed to be, before I had even become that." (Dipper glanced over at Great-Uncle Ford. He wasn’t listening, but…)

Dipper was about to complain at her to be more careful about talking about multiple Bills in front of him again, but then Dipper blinked. Dipper looked back at her again. "Wait. I thought you said _you_ decided to call yourself…" Dipper glanced over at Great-Uncle Ford again "... _you know_ ," Dipper said quietly, as he frowned. Because that wasn’t consistent, calling herself that and getting told she was that by Time Baby, instead. "And if you were all alone with them and there were no other people around, then who was Time Baby having you kill?" That didn’t make sense. "And if Time Baby hated you, and you couldn’t talk to the Axolotl because it was asleep, why didn’t you just go through your Doors to other places, instead?" Why would she want to make friends with someone who hated her? (The closest thing Dipper could think of was that situation they’d had with Pacifica Northwest, but even Pacifica had never _hated them_ hated them. It wasn’t really the same situation at all.) "Or if you wanted to be around other people there, couldn’t you just fall asleep like the Axolotl until they existed, too?" She’d fallen asleep in their yard. Maybe she could’ve done something so she wouldn’t get hungry, and stayed asleep even longer? Like some kind of hibernation thing? (Man, he really wished he had his journal…)

"I call myself Bill because that is _what_ I am," Miz told him. "What they needed me to be. It's kinda complicated. I was born as a triangle already knowing I would someday be Bill Cipher… and Ax called me that when we met so it was confirmed."

(So, wait. If she’d _chosen_ to call herself that, then did that mean that she _was_ or wasn’t another Bill Cipher? Or… what did she mean, she was ‘going to be’ a Bill Cipher _someday?_ Dipper shook his head, then glanced over at his great-uncle, feeling a little bit relieved. Because if Great-Uncle Ford heard her say that she was a 'Bill Cipher' _now_ , Dipper knew he could just tell his great-uncle _that_ , and Great-Uncle Ford should be okay. Dipper didn't think that a 'real’ Bill Cipher would just _let_ someone tell him (or her) who or what they were supposed to be, _ever_ , and Dipper was pretty sure his great-uncle would agree with him on that...)

"Once people formed," Miz continued, "Time Baby summoned me, talked to me, told me he had something he wanted me to do for him, and I was just so happy that he was finally talking to me, for a while, I really wanted him to be my brother, my family… thought that if I did what he wanted, he would _want_ me.... And I hadn't used my Doors until recently. Ax didn't want me to. Told me that if I met other... _me’s_ , they would hurt me. I tried to be good. I listened to him. And eventually I got too curious to stay away. And… well, here I am." She paused. "And then I met brother. You know, I couldn't sleep? I didn’t know how. It was BROTHER who taught me how to sleep."

"Wait! You thought _Time Baby_ was your brother!?" he asked her. Because… okay, maybe that would explain a lot? ...Or at least a lot _more?_ He wouldn’t be okay with killing people even if Mabel asked him to, but… if Mabel (...a Mabel like that anti-Mabel maybe?...) had wanted him to do something horrible like _that_ , and told him that if he _didn’t_ then do it then she wouldn’t love him anymore? That would be a LOT of pressure. And he wasn’t a demon, but Miz _was_ , and...

Miz sighed. "Not a BROTHER-brother, but, since Ax took me in like a dad, and with Time Baby being another Pillar like Ax and I are… I thought maybe he was like family too." Miz shook her head. "But he isn’t. He decided he didn’t want to be my brother, and it was stupid of me to think otherwise. Stupid of me to try and help him just because I wanted him to like me..." She sounded bitter about it.

"That sounds pretty messed up," Dipper muttered as he finally handed back the earrings, because it _was_. And Bill treating Miz -- another him -- like a sister was also pretty messed up, too, but… weirdly, it seemed _less_ messed up to Dipper than the idea of a Time Baby being Miz’s brother and wanting her to kill people for him, instead. (...Had Bill asked her to kill people, too? But Bill couldn’t have, could he? Because Grunkle Stan wouldn’t be okay with that, and… Grunkle Stan had been explaining the agreement to her a couple of days ago, trying to get her to follow it too, and Bill… seemed to want that too? Because some of the things Bill had said since then had been...)

Oh man, was this why Grunkle Stan seemed okay with her being _Bill’s_ sister? Because if she wasn’t, then she’d want to be this other Time Baby’s sister instead? And if she went back there where that other Time Baby was… (where _Bill_ didn’t want her to go, because Bill didn’t want her to leave… because… he...?) The idea made Dipper feel really off-balance, and maybe a little sick. (Because, the idea that Bill might actually be being a better brother to somebody than _anybody_ , **at all** , was just…)

Dipper pulled in a breath and looked down, thinking through the implications of that. Of _Bill Cipher_ being a better choice of a _brother_ to somebody that somebody else. And then something else occurred to him.

"Wait." Dipper looked up at her. "You couldn’t sleep before until _Bill_ taught you? Why not?"

"Yeah, turns out, the room with my Doors was my Dreamscape. But because I sealed it off, I couldn't sleep. Brother taught me that I could just create a false Dreamscape and sleep there." She frowned. "And I felt so stupid for not realizing it before." She was ‘sleeping’ right now, back in her own dimension. But she was also sleeping here. Wow, a dream within a dream? Ehehe Inception~

Dipper didn’t know much about the Dreamscape. But the fact that Bill had had to have helped her out with that the first time she had shown up was… weird. --Then again, so was the sister thing, really. (Had Bill been planning on doing that from the start? That would be even weirder. ...And how did you get to be a ‘dream demon’, when you couldn't even sleep? Or was jumping into other people’s dreams a thing that they'd done because that was the closest they'd been able to get to sleeping themselves? But she'd just said that Bill had taught her _how_...)

Dipper frowned. If _he’d_ been Miz’s friend -- actually her friend -- or if Mabel had, they would’ve tried to help her be able to sleep. Not being able to sounded horrible. And _being able to_ would’ve let Miz sleep until other people were around for her to talk to. Right? ...So if Bill had helped her with that, practically first-thing after meeting her, then…

Miz frowned. "I suppose I could blame my awful life choices on the fact that I was lonely and sleep deprived for billions of years, but I don't think that's a proper excuse."

"Uh…" Dipper said. It practically felt like she’d just read his mind, just then. And… hold on, maybe he was just assuming that the sleep-deprived thing was a worse thing than maybe it actually was? "--Did you need to be able to sleep?" Dipper asked her. "Or was it... optional?" Because if she didn’t, okay fine, but if she _did_ , that _would_ probably also help explain why she kind of acted completely insane sometimes, even thought she said she’d used to be human. (Would it help if she just… slept for a couple centuries straight, or something, for awhile? ...Should he ask?)

"Well, the fact that I HAD a Dreamscape means I’m supposed to be able to sleep. I mean, Time Baby and Ax can both sleep so…" She shook her head. "But it wasn’t… I mean, I couldn't _die_ from a lack of sleep. Immortal and all… and Ax did apologize when I asked him about why he didn't tell me about the Sleeping problem I had…"

Okay. Need a not-sealed-off Dreamscape to sleep. Got it. "Actually, humans can’t actually die just from not sleeping, either," Dipper told her. "It’s… getting in accidents and things from hallucinating and microsleeping in the middle of stuff that can get people killed," Dipper winced. He frowned at the Axolotl thing. The Axolotl had known she was having a problem and hadn’t said anything? Wasn’t it supposed to be good? Great-Uncle Ford had said, um… wait, did the Axolotl actually talk to her? And... hadn’t she said it was her dad? Kind of? And that she’d talked about her dad out in the forest some to Great-Uncle Ford, too? ...Dipper had no idea how to even _start_ unpacking this. (He _really_ wished he had his journal with him. He was already losing track of things because he hadn’t been able to write any of it down! And now...)

"Well I did get my vessel destroyed a lot back when I started. Then I got stronger and that wasn't an issue anymore. And… getting killed was the closest I'd come to being able to sleep for a while. Until alcohol was invented and I'd just drink until I couldn't think anymore and that was almost like sleeping."

Dipper winced at that, wanting to cover his ears and tell her to stop… and he was _really_ relieved when Grunkle Stan walked up to them before he could, even though Grunkle Stan had Bill with him.

(Dipper was… kind of okay with being the one to have to distract Miz when somebody really needed to? Because Grunkle Stan was okay at handling Bill _most_ of the time, and… Mabel was a _lot_ better than he was at helping Great-Uncle Ford feel better. But that didn’t mean Dipper felt comfortable talking with Miz by himself! It left him feeling kind of nervous the longer he talked with her -- like trying to talk with a cryptid version of a shark that could talk back to him. Except it might be hungry, or might be tired or bored, and he wouldn’t know what to do if that happened because he didn’t have any field notes to help him out yet -- he was having to write them right now himself.)

(Dipper didn’t really like Miz, exactly, either. She could do cool things, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t lying to him (or trying to) most of the time, but… she killed people, and didn’t sound like she really cared all that much that that was wrong, and she was _definitely_ insane. And she made really, really bad decisions. _And_ she’d hurt Great-Uncle Ford on purpose once at dinner, saying and thinking horrible things about him, and then hurt him _again_ even _worse_ out in the woods when she said she hadn’t even been trying to. And that one maybe wasn’t her fault, or maybe it was, but either way Great-Uncle Ford had still gotten hurt. --He’d gotten driven crazy by her and Bill, and she hadn’t even been trying! _So Dipper knew how crazy it was for him to be trying to handle her by himself, okay?_ Especially without Mabel at his back!)

(Dipper let out a breath. If she’d known it was going to be a problem, then Miz could have said something to the rest of them about the being-a-Bill-Cipher thing to them, instead of to Great-Uncle Ford in the woods, though; they would have covered for her. She didn’t even act anything like Bill most of the time, except maybe a little crazy sometimes -- and y’know, _really_ crazy at others. Heck, she could've just kept not telling anybody she was a Bill Cipher, and it wouldn’t even have had to be a problem! Except she had, and…)

(Miz wasn’t like Gideon exactly. But she _was_ kind of like him, too. Just a different kind of awful, to Great-Uncle Ford instead of Mabel. Dipper really didn’t like it, and-- Dipper still didn’t understand why Grunkle Stan kept refusing to do the circle with them over Bill, either; not when Bill kept on hurting Great-Uncle Ford, too. Grunkle Stan had never really explained that properly to him _or_ to Mabel.)

Dipper looked up at Grunkle Stan, and Bill, and… Bill looked at least a little less insane than he had before he and Mabel and Miz had left their grunkle and great-uncle alone with the dream demon. (Okay, maybe a lot less crazy.) And Grunkle Stan looked okay, which was good. (Maybe a little distracted?)

"How’s Ford doing?" was Grunkle Stan’s first ask to Dipper. His second, after something like a double-take, was, "Are you and your sister okay?" and Dipper sighed and pulled down on the brim of his hat.

Miz tilted her head. "I think I made him cry? Sorry."

Grunkle Stan eyed her, with something like a scowl. "Ford, or Dipper?"

"Not me," Dipper said, glaring at Miz.

"...Yeah, okay," Grunkle Stan grunted out after giving Dipper a long look, before turning away to look over at Mabel and Great-Uncle Ford. "Y’know, Ford gets real loud when he does that, the whole ‘crying’ thing. You’d know for sure if he did," Stan said almost absently. And Bill…

...just kept standing at Grunkle Stan’s side throughout all this; he didn't even let out a laugh at the idea of Great-Uncle Ford crying. (Not that Dipper was _complaining_ , but…)

Dipper frowned at Bill, trying to figure out what was up with the dumb dorito now. And then Dipper frowned even more as he realized that Bill looked… relaxed. Really, _really_ relaxed. Like he was… at ease? And kind of… happy?

Dipper looked up at his grunkle, feeling a little worried.

"You didn’t say if you and your sister are ‘okay’, Pine Tree," was what Bill finally said to him, and-- Dipper had been expecting that kind of question from his Grunkle Stan ( _not_ the crazy dorito chip!), and Dipper looked over at Bill, feeling kind of shocked.

Dipper frowned at Bill furiously. "--Why do you want to know?" Dipper asked Bill defensively, gripping the front of his hat.

Grunkle Stan, who had walked over to Mabel and Great-Uncle Ford in the meantime, turned back towards him from where he was standing a couple yards away, almost next to Great-Uncle Ford. "Dipper?"

Dipper felt more than a little nervous, now, glancing around at them all. And then he almost panicked for a moment, because he felt… almost _surrounded_. Miz, Bill, and…

"...Grunkle Stan?" Dipper asked slowly, feeling the edges of panic and paranoia creeping up on him. Because somehow, it felt like… they were all in **something** _together_. "What did you do?"

"Talked with the kid," Grunkle Stan told him. "Things are gonna be a lot easier from now on. --Are you and your sister _okay?_ " Grunkle Stan repeated, looking between him and Mabel both.

"I’m fine, Grunkle Stan," Mabel said, pulling away from Great-Uncle Ford just a bit, to look up at him.

"I-- I’m fine," Dipper said finally, and he winced when his hesitation got him a long look from his grunkle.

Grunkle Stan gave a grunt, as he crouched down heavily and put an arm around Great-Uncle Ford’s shoulders. "Uh huh. Anything you can think of that’d help?" he asked back at Dipper... because of course he could tell that Dipper was lying and wasn't fine.

Dipper pulled in a breath, and let it out in a, "I really want my journal, I _need_ to write a bunch of things down!" as he pulled at his cap. --He couldn’t help himself; he’d been without one for an entire _day!_

Grunkle Stan looked at him, then looked at Bill. "Can you help him with that?" he asked Bill, who looked thoughtful.

Miz tilted her head. "I could summon it, could I do that or would it be blocked?"

"Might be blocked and _bounced,_ " Bill said, as he reached for his top hat. People would have been a definite block; objects, though... "Best not to risk it; it’d shred the thing if it went wrong," he added, as he pulled his hat off of the top of his head where it had been floating and reached inside it. He pulled out what looked like an entire ream of paper and held it out to Dipper.

Dipper stared.

Dipper thought back to when Miz mentioned ‘freebies’ and shuddered. Grunkle Stan had asked… and Bill had just DONE it. No questions asked. It hadn’t even been this… _this_ , on the boat when they’d been packing stuff up.

Dipper looked up at Bill.

"What," said Bill, raising his eyebrows in an amused smirk. "You don’t want it?" the demon added, not quite waving the stack at him. Dipper glared at him and practically reached up and yanked the paper out of his hand. (Fine. So Bill was still a jerk. ...Why did that make him feel less freaked out about the whole thing?) Dipper started to move away, but stopped when Bill reached into his hat again, pulled out an old-looking ballpoint pen, and held that out to him, too.

Dipper only hesitated for a couple seconds this time, before snatching that away from him, too. "How do you even have this stuff in your hat?" Dipper practically complained at him, as he sat down on the sidewalk to start folding sets of the paper in half in small bundles, into sets of pages. (He didn’t know what he was going to do for a binding yet, but…)

He hesitated as Bill squatted down on the concrete next to him, and he realized that Bill was holding a long, very sharp-looking needle and binding thread in his hand, held out to him. Miz knelt down beside Dipper as well. "Want me to help notebook-ify those for you?"

"I…" It took Dipper a moment to breath in, out, and then say to the demon who he knew did know how to do arts-and-crafts-y stuff now: "Can you bind these five sets together, while I finish folding the rest?" He held them out to her.

Miz nodded. "Sure." She took the papers and the needle from Bill to begin expertly stitching up the pages.

Meanwhile, Bill went from crouching next to him, to sitting next to him, and started actually looking like he was rummaging through his hat, instead.

After awhile, Bill frowned, stuck his whole arm in, and yanked out some weird-looking cloth.

"Best I can do on short notice," Bill muttered, setting it down on the sidewalk in front of him, before pulling his knife out of the back of his belt and putting his hat back on top of his head. "Haven’t made a proper inventory in… _forever_ ," Bill seemed to realize, "I've never done a proper inventory," frowning. He let out a frustrated-sounding sigh, as he flipped open the knife, glanced over at the folds Dipper was making for a moment, measuring them with his eyes, and then turned back to the heavy cloth and started carving it up into a… book cover-sized pattern, with room for flaps at the end.

Miz [hummed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnI4CGjeVOM) as she worked. She finished stitching up one stack and started on the next. She commented absently, "Sorry if I scared you. I'm not gonna hurt you or Mabel. I like her. And I like Soos too. And mister Stan," she told him before humming again.

Dipper paused, unsure if he should ask, before he caved and asked anyway, "...What about me?"

Miz shrugged. "Not sure how I feel about you yet." (Well, that was fair. He didn’t really know completely how he felt about her, either; it kept changing. She was way too easy to talk to... most of the time.)

Dipper took a deep breath. "And Great Uncle Ford?" he asked next.

Miz sighed. "I don't hate him. But I can't say I like him." She really _wanted_ to like him, she wanted to like all of them… except probably Gideon, if he was still a little shit like he was in the show...

"...Well, that’s better than before," Dipper muttered. He was pretty sure she’d hated Great-Uncle Ford before.

Miz shrugged, tied off the ends of the stacks and snipped the binding thread with… her fingers by making a scissors motion.

Dipper handed her some more stacks to do as he finished folding them. Miz continued humming. It was almost peaceful. He could remember multiple occasions where he and Mabel would work on something like this. He watched Miz as she worked. Whenever she was busy doing normal people stuff, she seemed almost human.

As Miz finished another set of papers, she spoke up again. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but I really don't like killing innocent people." Dipper glanced over at her. "Not all of my jobs were for going after regular people. There were a couple of criminals in there too." She frowned. "I know killing is considered wrong no matter who you're killing, but soldiers kill in war all the time. And some criminals get Death penalties. And if someone is really horrible, and has no desire to get… not-horrible, it's…" She’d killed plenty of murderers or rapists or slavers. That wasn’t _bad_ , right? Killing bad people was _good_ , right?

Dipper frowned. "I know," he said. "It’s not like I don't know that! But when you say it, it feels like a justification," Dipper told her, feeling a great deal of frustration with her about this. "Because you kill, and it's like you're trying to say that what you're doing is okay because other people do it. It's like you're trying to say, 'I know it's wrong, but other people do this stuff, so it's okay for me to do this thing, too.’" He looked over at her. "It feels like you're making an excuse, and don't actually believe that it's wrong."

Miz sighed. "Well it makes me feel better to justify it. Otherwise I would just cry forever, and I'm not gonna do that." She frowned. "And at some point, I kinda got used to the idea that killing itself isn't wrong, just the _reasons_ behind it." (Dipper grimaced at her.) "I've seen starving people kill for food, and they weren't bad people. I've seen rebels fighting and killing to escape a corrupt government, and they weren't bad people. Heck, I got a Deal from a refugee asking me to protect his children as they fled from blood purists who wanted to kill him and his children simply for being what species they were. And I did protect them. The attackers came at us with lethal force and I responded in kind."

She sighed. "And doesn't Ford want to kill my brother? And I'm pretty sure he wants me to die too." She paused. "And I want to stop killing for Time Baby. I could just pretend to do it. As long as his timeline goes how he wants, it shouldn't matter to him." She brushed some hair out her eyes. "My powers are strong enough now that I could probably do that."

(Dipper was about to say something, when Bill spoke up before he could.)

"The problem isn’t killing, Miz. It’s people staying dead," Bill said cooly, as he cut patterns and shapes into the cloth. (Dipper frowned over at him.) "That’s the problem behind the problem," Bill continued. "Killing wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t permanent for everyone other than demons." Bill looked over at her. "Putting your Time Baby out of a job would be easier than trying to get along with him by giving him what he says he wants for the timeline to happen the way he wants."

Miz shrugged. "That too? But it'll take a lot of power to overthrow him." She paused. "I'm gonna work on my own autopilot for the time stream thing. That'll give me room to work."

"--But that doesn’t solve anything, though!" Dipper said, feeling just that much more frustrated with the two demons, both. "You’re still talking about people having to fight, and it’d still hurt to die, or see people you care about die!" Because when would it stop? He didn’t trust Bill -- _or_ Miz -- to do what was right, or to know when to stop. Neither of them actually cared about helping people, just… helping the people they wanted to help, _maybe_ , at best!

Miz stared at him. "And how do you suggest I stop people from fighting and being in conflict with each other? People all have different ideas of what they want. And sometimes that ‘want’ is something like, ‘I don't like that person and want to hurt them’."

"I don’t know," Dipper muttered, pulling down on his hat. Because what kind of question was that, even? "If I knew something like that, don’t you think me and my sister would try to do that, here?" If he knew that, then maybe he’d be able to stop Bill from wanting to hurt people!

Miz looked down. "Well, all I can do is help those in front of me."

"And I know enough to do more, so I can do more than that," Bill said casually, twirling his knife in the air before putting it away. "It’s fine if it takes a while. I’ll get there eventually."

"--And hurt a lot of people along the way!" Dipper told him with a glare.

And Dipper really wanted to haul off and punch Bill or something, when the next thing Bill did was just _shrug_ at him and say, "It doesn’t matter. I’ll fix that, too." --The stupid, insane triangle! What was that even supposed to _mean?!_ Hurting people, and then ‘fixing’ them(?!) _wasn’t_ okay!

Miz flipped through the pages absently. "You know I started up a bunch of refugee shelters and soup kitchens across my multiverse? It's not much, but it was something I thought might help."

"Doing good things doesn’t cancel out bad things," Dipper said, frowning at her. And next to him, Bill stilled, and his eyes jittered from side to side.

"...Penalties don’t cancel out other penalties," Bill said slowly, turning towards Dipper, "And fixing things cancels out problems from mistakes and accidents, so penalties aren’t necessary," Bill said more normally. "...Uh, yeah?" said Dipper. Grunkle Stan had told Bill that, right?

"I have to believe that doing good would eventually make up for the bad that I've done. Especially if I stop doing the bad things." Miz commented quietly.

"I don’t," said Bill, but before Dipper could tell him off, Bill said, "I’m going to fix everything."

Dipper frowned at him. Bill had said that before, on the roof, and heck, twice just now, but... "When?" Because it wasn’t like Bill was trying to do that. Did the stupid dorito _think_ that he was?

Bill blinked at him. "Time is dead. ...Eventually?" Bill added at Dipper’s glare.

"Yeah? How’re you going to fix what happened in the Fearamid?" Dipper said caustically, turning away from him, "Scaring me and my sister and my great-uncles by saying you were going to kill Mabel? Or wrecking the town?" Dipper gritted out, shoving a palm into the paper to flatten it out harder than necessary. He really wanted to hit Bill right now, but that wouldn’t help anything. All he could do was try to hit him with words, instead. Because _clearly_ Bill wasn’t getting how he couldn’t actually fix things like that, or anything like that!

"You’re all fine. And the town isn’t wrecked anymore," Bill told him.

"--No thanks to you!" Dipper said angrily. And how was _that_ enough?!

Miz stared at Dipper. "You know, I don't think you quite know what you're asking for."

"What?" said Dipper. He felt a little weird as he saw Bill tilt his head at him.

"Yes, thanks to me," Bill said. "It rewound. I fixed it."

"You died," Dipper said flatly. Because really, he _wasn’t_ falling for it. "You didn’t rewind anything."

"Dipper, brother made it so that things would be fixed." Miz deadpanned slowly, as if she thought Dipper was misunderstanding something, which he _was_.

Dipper narrowed his eyes at them. "He _what?_ " Dipper said looking between them. "--What did you do, and when?" Dipper demanded out of Bill. Because there was no way--

"I put in a timestop when I escaped and got free," Bill told him. He didn’t even look gleeful, just like he was stating facts. "I wanted to be able to undo things if I needed to. --I _ALWAYS_ do that, when I can. And I could, once I was out. So I did. It was the first thing I did when I got out, after making a physical form for myself."

Dipper stared at him, confused. "What’s a timestop do?" Dipper asked him, still frowning. Was this _actually_ a thing?

"It makes it easier to rewind things later, to a particular point," Bill continued. "I set the point. Something goes wrong, it automatically rewinds the way I want it to, if I let something slip."

Miz rolled her eyes. "The whole reason the town got fixed, and why brother wasn't afraid of just having fun, was because he set it to all rewind and go back to the way it was."

"If and when I wanted it to!" Bill clarified brightly about the timestop that fixed the town.

In a quiet voice, Miz muttered after that, "He even made sure none of the humans would die during Weirdmageddon…"

Dipper glared at them both. (He hadn’t actually heard what Miz had muttered under her breath that time.)

"--But it _wasn’t_ completely fixed," Dipper objected to them both, and Bill blinked at him. "The Shack was a mess, and there were fault lines in the forest, and all those huge eyebats from the Nightmare Realm are still around--"

"The eyebats were in Gravity Falls even before then." Miz pointed out.

Except Bill shook his head, then nodded and said, "They weren’t, but they were. The ones in the ‘Falls slipped through from the Nightmare Realm because they’re so very small when they start out, and I made them very robust. They can make the transit, even when I couldn’t!" Bill told her.

Miz blinked. "That's pretty cool." The Eyebats in her dimensional set were a real species of animal from PaciFire’s homeplanet.

"--You ripped a hole in our dimension!" Dipper said, angry that he _still_ wasn’t getting through to them. "That _wasn’t_ okay! It was only going to get worse! And we had to fix all those smaller rips afterwards--"

But Dipper flinched and stopped when Bill sat up straight all of a sudden, looking alarmed.

"-- _WHAT RIPS?!_ " Bill demanded out of him, leaning in towards him across Miz, almost getting in his face.

Dipper shivered and scrambled backwards away from him quickly. "I--"

" _Bill_ ," Grunkle Stan said evenly from over where he was sitting next to Ford, and Bill swiveled towards him, wide-eyed and… looking strained, and Dipper couldn’t understand it. Why did Bill look so-- "We sealed them up. It’s fine."

"-- _It’s not fine_ ," Bill told Grunkle Stan, and Dipper was starting to wonder, _’does Bill think that we could use them to trap him in there, again?’_ "How did you seal them?!"

"That alien adhesive from the crashed UFO," Miz commented -- and that was why Dipper and the rest of them hadn’t talked about doing that to Bill. Even if it was possible for them to get one of those permanently-glued shut repaired rips back open again, to toss Bill through? That would just mean that Bill would probably be able to get it back open again after _that_ , too -- and then come right back again, madder than ever.

"That’s _NOT_ good enough!" Bill said, with a high-pitched strain underlying his tone. "Don’t you idiots have ANY IDEA--" Bill gritted his teeth and cut himself off. "You can BURN THAT AWAY with something that’s hot enough! ANYONE could get through with enough--" Bill cut himself off and shook his head. "And when the dimensional spaces DIVERGE enough, the FRICTION will--" Bill looked a little freaked out at the thought, and started doing that ‘attacking the sides of his head with his hands’ thing he did sometimes, when he got completely torqued off about stupid things that weren’t actually a problem.

Miz blinked slowly. "Want me to help you seal them properly when we get back?"

"Yes. Maybe. Yes? -- _YES_." Bill said. "Good practice, yes. -- _I will show you first._ **Don’t** screw it up!" Bill told her, rounding on her. "Do it right, or don’t try. --My dimension. If you aren’t SURE, I’ll find you a DIFFERENT one to practice on," Bill told her, and… his breathing looked a little off. The heck?

"...Why are you acting so freaked out," Dipper said slowly. "You were _trying_ to break our dimension."

"--Breaking isn’t _DESTABILIZING!_ " Bill snapped out at Dipper. 

"You tore a freaking huge hole in space-time in the middle of the sky!" Dipper snapped right back at him. How did Bill not _get_ how bad that was?! "It was going to expand and--"

"--it _DIDN’T_ get any bigger!" Bill said angrily. "I was holding it STEADY! Timestop! Boundary stabilization! _All of it!_ If I wasn’t, it would’ve just KEPT GOING!" Bill told him. "Dimensions don’t _STOP_ destabilizing once they start! They only GET WORSE!"

"A controlled tear. Held in place and in size," Miz added. "So it could be fixed afterward."

"YES!" Bill said, leaning back where he was sitting and still looking a little freaked out.

Dipper was glancing between them, and... he was starting to realize part of the problem Bill was so worried about.

"You had a bunch of stuff in place that was supposed to not let the tear get any worse," Dipper said slowly. "But when you died and everything unraveled, the tear didn’t completely go away; there were just a bunch of smaller tears still leftover from the bigger one afterwards," Dipper said. "Your time stop thing didn’t work right. Not everything rolled back to..." Dipper shivered.

"Those weren't supposed to happen," Stan said slowly. "Were they." It wasn’t really a question. (Great-Uncle Ford was slowly looking up, and now Mabel was looking over, too.)

"Tsst." Bill looked irritated. "I wasn’t supposed to DIE," Bill complained. Miz was making mental notes to not let something like this happen in her own world if she ever wanted to start a Weirdmageddon, not that she _would_ or anything...

"...What kinda timeframe are we talking here, kid," Grunkle Stan said, and Bill looked jittery, opening and closing his eyes. He raised a hand to his forehead, jittering in place slightly and looking irritated, then made a sort of chittery-snarling sound and made a sort of tossing gesture with his hands.

And then Bill was making all sorts of odd, complicated gestures in mid-air and… nothing was happening? But Bill kept looking back and forth at things that... weren’t there... like they were?

Dipper glanced over and saw that Great-Uncle Ford was paying attention to what Bill was doing, tracking the motions...

"...Am I missing something?" Dipper muttered to the rest of them, leaning away from Bill slightly when a wider gesture came a little too close to his head for comfort. (Had Bill hidden whatever he was doing just from him?)

"Show me," Dipper heard Great-Uncle Ford say next. (Okay, maybe it wasn’t just him, then…)

"-- _No_ ," Bill snapped out. "Idiot, you’re too _stupid_ to help with this anyway," Bill said, not looking away from what he was doing at all. (Great-Uncle Ford practically bristled in place.)

"General timeframe, kid," Grunkle Stan said next. "Doesn’t have to be exact. We talkin’ years? Minutes? Days?"

Bill looked a little more stressed, and some of his motions got faster. And then they… slowed to a stop and his arms dropped slightly. Bill raised a hand to the right side of his head and rubbed it against it in that odd motion he always seemed to use. "Nn. Years. --Not many," Bill said.

"On the long end?" Grunkle Stan asked, and got:

"Less than a century," back. Bill didn’t look happy as he seemed to wave away whatever he’d been seeing in front of him.

"This with the less-energy in the Nightmare Realm thing going on?" Stan asked him, as Dipper looked between them.

"Yes. And no. I ran both," Bill told him. "If it collapsed further in exactly the WRONG way, two years. No energy output and no collapse beyond what I Saw last? A century at most."

Grunkle Stan gave him a long look. "But we can pick when we get back, yeah?" he said slowly. Bill nodded. "Is going back a couple minutes after we left too late?" Grunkle Stan asked next, and that was the space-time thing he’d been asking about before, right?

"No," said Bill, "But it takes TIME to repair those things properly, and--" Bill looked frustrated, now.

"--Yeah, I hear ya," Grunkle Stan grimaced. "We’ll talk details once we’re back."

Miz nudged Bill's side lightly. "I can help," she told him. "You're not alone anymore." Bill nodded slightly.

" _I’ll_ fix it, once we’re back," Great-Uncle Ford said, shoving himself up a bit more upright in place where he was kneeling. He was sending a long, distrustful look Bill’s way.

"No, _you_ didn’t fix it the _FIRST TIME_ ," Bill practically sneered out at him. " _I’ll_ fix it _PROPERLY_." Bill let out a huff of breath. " _Stanley_ can help; _he_ actually FIXES things," Bill muttered out, rubbing his hand against the side of his head again, before dropping it, as he glanced over at Grunkle Stan.

"Stan doesn’t have any idea how to--" Great-Uncle Ford began, and Bill practically hissed at him, cutting him off. (Dipper winced, glancing over at his sister.)

"He fixed the portal. Got you. And this was without ever having finished high school or gone to college." Miz drawled.

"--He didn’t just ‘fix the portal’; he had to run it in microsecond bursts, with connects and disconnects, to run that search protocol to find you," Bill told them all, looking a little tense as he… explained? (Dipper stared, because Bill was _actually explaining_ \--) "He didn’t _just_ open it up to the last place it was set to open to," Bill told Great-Uncle Ford. "He found the dimension you were _actually in_ and followed you, kept tracking you from there, and targeted an opening to _you_ , where _you_ were, once it was ready to open a connection for a larger _wider_ opening for a longer _human-traversable_ period of time."

"...What?" Great-Uncle Ford said, blinking like he’d been staring into the sun for too long. He slowly turned towards Grunkle Stan. "You… got the portal stabilizer working?" He looked a little off-balance, at least to Dipper. ...But why?

Miz glared at Ford. "Stan didn’t JUST fix the portal, while running the Shack to earn money to keep it going, he created a bioscanner to FIND Stanford Pines specifically, so that he could grab you WHEREVER you were and not some random demon or person."

"You…" Great-Uncle Ford looked stunned, but Grunkle Stan just _shrugged_ and said:

"There were blueprints and junk. Wasn’t hard to put it together."

"But the parts--" Great-Uncle Ford objected. "They weren’t just _ready_ to-- that wasn’t just some patch job," the scientist told his brother, sounding a little off to Dipper. "That would have required actual precision machining and…"

"Because Stan ISN'T dumb. He's NEVER been dumb! But YOU were the smart one and he just didn't want to _take_ that from YOU--" Miz complained, but stopped when Bill dropped a hand onto Miz’s head, and he made that rainwater noise at her again.

"...Not everything a certain someone wrote was destroyed," Bill said, after he’d finished calming Miz down just a little. "That copy machine can make copies of inanimate objects just fine. --I didn’t spend all my time just writing things down for you, you know," Bill said to Great-Uncle Ford with something that Dipper wouldn’t quite call a smirk.

...Aaaaand now Great-Uncle Ford looked absolutely sick. And Grunkle Stan looked… mad.

"--You couldn’t just copy the damn journals, too?!" Grunkle Stan demanded out of the demon.

Bill blinked at him. "The timeframe was off," he told Grunkle Stan. "The dimensions were too far apart. I wouldn’t have been able to get through myself yet," he told Dipper’s Grunkle, "--and you both would have shut it down IMMEDIATELY once he was through! --No portal, no rift. ...Not one big enough for me to use before it started tearing the rest of your dimension down! And then I’d just be STUCK in another DESTABILIZED DIMENSION again!"

(...The worst part of it was, Bill said it all out to them like he thought it was basic arithmetic. Dipper stared at him, because Bill…)

"And you needed Pine Tree and Shooting Star and everyone else, right?" Miz asked quietly.

"Causality is hard," Bill said enigmatically, which kind of made Dipper want to strangle him… and Dipper was pretty sure Great-Uncle Ford wanted to strangle him for that, too, from the look he had on his face.

Even Grunkle Stan still looked a little pissed. --And he even _said_ it! "I ain’t real pleased about this with you right now, kid," he told Bill straight-out.

Dipper watched as Bill looked over at Grunkle Stan and said, "If I’d shown up in your dreams back then, and even gotten you to take me seriously, would you have held up your end of any Deal or Bargain that we would have made, if I’d helped you get your _brother_ to where you were that much sooner?" Bill’s eyes narrowed. "Or would you have slammed the door **shut** on _‘the demon who messed with your **family** ’_ and left me there to **ROT.** " And it was pretty clear that Bill knew that it would have totally been the second one, because Grunkle Stan wasn’t stupid.

(...Bill had known. Ford shivered slightly in place as he realized... Bill had _known_ that there was **no way** that they’d **ever** have _willingly_ let him through. Which meant--)

Dipper glared at Bill, as Mabel frowned at Bill, too. Great-Uncle Ford pulled in a long breath, looking angry, and a little bit sick.

And Grunkle Stan clenched his jaw, and his fists.

For a second there, Dipper thought Grunkle Stan was _finally_ going to tell Bill off. ...But all his grunkle said next was, "We’re gonna talk about this later, kid."

And all they got back from the triangle demon from that pronouncement was a neutral-toned: "Fine."

Dipper let out a breath in annoyance. "All you _do_ is get away with things," he muttered out angrily at Bill, turning away from him. He almost slapped Bill’s hand away, when the demon reached for and picked up the needle and thread.

"That’s penalty-talk voice, Pine Tree," said the demon. "I’m likely going to get a long ‘learning’ lecture AT BEST."

...Well, at least Bill didn’t sound too happy about it. --It still wasn’t enough, though! And Dipper sat there, steaming…

"It’ll have to be," Dipper heard Bill mutter right next to him, as the demon kept working on whatever he was doing. "Because I can’t think of any other way to have gotten myself out of there that WOULDN’T have involved ‘messing with’ Stanley’s brother." (And Dipper glanced over and realized that Bill was _frowning_ over this.)

Miz looked over at him and asked inquisitively, "Is that a problem, big brother?" Dipper glared at her.

Bill pulled a face. "Yes," he said. "Stanley wants me," Bill said next, "So if something like that happens again… he’ll want me to do something different that won’t be crossing his line, so that I won’t break the agreement, so that he can keep me."

Dipper looked at Bill with a kind of horrified incredulous shock, because _that_ was the reason why Bill might try not to…?!

Dipper looked away, feeling… feeling… he wasn’t really _sure_ what, at what Bill had just said. He was definitely feeling not-so-great, though.

...but he couldn’t help but look over at what Bill was doing again after awhile, as Mabel and Grunkle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford talked together a little farther away, too quiet for him to hear from where he was sitting those couple of yards away…

...or for anyone else sitting that far away from them to hear…

…...like the two demons who he was sitting right next to…...

Dipper was suddenly reminded of exactly where he was, and how close he was sitting to the two demons, just then. It sent a chill down his spine. And when Dipper glanced over at Bill--

...The demon was stitching the cloth together in bunches, and then stitching together what looked like flaps. Dipper frowned at him. (Weird. What was the stupid dorito chip doing _now?_ )

Then Dipper was distracted from Bill for a moment when Miz mumbled out, "Well, when I get a portal to my own 3rd dimension, I'm not gonna make any tears."

When Dipper stared at her in shock, she continued, "I just want to pet every species of cat on the planet. I possessed a few humans to try it… and that's why the Egyptians worship cats now…" That had been kind of funny, but also just weird, whenever she’d tried possessing a cat and had gotten taken in to one of the temples she wasn’t sure how to feel.

"Cats are fun," Bill said. "They’re much nicer to possess than gnomes." They were one of the few ‘lower’ species he’d tried possessing that he actually LIKED running around in. He hadn’t really had time for that much ‘careless fun’ by the time his Zodiac came around, though. Cats were a little finicky. Making Deals with them was a bit… difficult. (Generally, he had to make a Deal with a human to possess them first, and then… well.) He looked over at Miz. "That happened with you, too? The cat-as-you-worship thing?"

Miz nodded. "It was super weird. But in a good way, because now people raise cats." Possessing cats was fun. Much better than being a fish. Though being a dinosaur was pretty dang cool.

"Hm. ...So you have more of them to pet?" Bill said, as he continued with his stitching. (Bill wasn’t about to ask Miz if that was _really_ the only thing she wanted to do in that dimension. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that it wasn’t.)

Miz nodded. "So many cute things! Soft and fluffy…" she sighed dreamily.

Dipper stared at them. "You both like…" He stared up at Bill, who basically had cat-eyes for eyes in his current body. " _Right._ "

"Dogs are cute too." Miz nodded. "And alpacas. And other fluffy things. You know Earth has the most variety of fluffy things on one planet that I've ever seen?" Dipper's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe he was hearing this right now.

"Eh," said Bill. "Llamas are okay. Nature’s natural warriors!" he enthused a bit with a smile. "I have one! She’s part of my Zodiac," he told Miz, like that was some sort of secret and something to be proud of, and Dipper did a facepalm. Pacifica was _not_ going to be happy about that one. (....She spent too much time using a broom on the gnomes at the Diner as it was.)

Miz giggled. "A true warrior." She handed Dipper the stitched papers. "Here."

"Rrah -- no!" said Bill. "Here! Give it here! He’ll do it wrong," Bill said, making a grabby-hand gesture, then looked up at Dipper’s frown. "Probably. --Quicker if I do it!" Bill said, but looked almost taken aback as Dipper glared at him, then reached down and snatched up the cloth-thing he’d been working on from off of the sidewalk. (Dipper had saw him finish with the last knots a couple seconds ago; now that it was done, Dipper actually recognized it for what it was finally.)

"The thing! With the flaps!" Bill said, sounding annoyed and, geez--

"Bill, I _know_ how book covers work," Dipper told him, feeling just as annoyed as he got it laid out in front of him and told the demon, of whatever the heck Bill had thought he was making there out of cloth, or called it, "It’s the same thing! You’ve got flaps, and you--"

"--Needs at LEAST five sheets on each side, or it won’t be strong enough to stay together," Bill told him next, looking annoyed, and Dipper glared up at him and stuffed in ten each, seven that went all the way in, and three that he folded in half again first, to make them thicker and harder to yank out. He saw Bill blink at him and quiet down, looking less agitated as he made the folds and shoved it all in on one side, and then the other.

‘ _\--Yeah, I know what I’m doing,_ ’ Dipper wanted to say to him, but he just glared it up at Bill instead.

Miz face palmed. "Men," she muttered.

Bill looked over at her, frowning slightly. "Pine Tree’s never done anything like that before." And Bill had no idea what that had to do with ‘men’.

"I do craft stuff with Mabel all the time!" Dipper half-complained at him. "I _know_ how to do stuff with paper, and cardboard, and construction paper; all of it. I know when to use what, and how to handle it!"

Dipper turned a glare back on Bill, expecting an argument, but instead he realized that Bill was giving him an almost-thoughtful look.

"Hm," said Bill. And he didn’t say anything else.

Dipper’s glare slowly turned into a frown. "I’m not stupid," Dipper muttered, pulling down on his cap and turning away from him, to pick up the handmade book and the pen and open it up to the first usable page.

"I know," he heard Bill say. "Ignorance isn’t stupidity. I know the difference."

Dipper glanced over at Bill, not really sure how to take that. (Bill had still thought he didn’t know what he was doing, or couldn’t do it and was still going to try to do it anyway!) ...But Bill was looking out across the boardwalk, not at him. Dipper frowned at Bill because Bill was… _scanning_ the boardwalk -- kind of like Great-Uncle Ford did in the woods sometimes, when they were searching for cryptids. And that made Dipper feel a little uneasy, seeing Bill doing the exact same thing, the same way that Great-Uncle Ford did it.

Miz looked around as well. "So, how are we gonna scam people out of money?" she asked innocently.

Dipper sighed. Grunkle Stan was a terrible influence. "You know scamming people isn't a good thing, right?"

That got him a blank look from the dragon. "But it doesn't hurt anyone? Stan's not gonna let us take enough to hurt anyone."

"We’re not stealing anything or doing any scams; we're running a con," Stan told Dipper, as he shoved himself to his feet with a grunt. That got him a surprised look out of Ford, and disbelieving ones out of the niblings.

"What," Stan said to the lot of them. He could make money out on the streets without stealing. Last thing he was gonna give the kid more examples of was just _taking_ shit from other people without their saying it was okay. Kid had trouble enough holding to deals and bargains and things as it was. (And 'pirating’ the Stan o’ War had been kind of borderline there, Stan knew.)

The agreement thing that he had going with the kid was an outlier… mostly because mutual non-aggression agreements required trust, and the last time the kid had tried doing one of _those_ , shit had (according to the kid) apparently gone _so_ bad (and pissed the kid off so hard) that it had left the triangle demon wanting the high-ground the next time he did one. (...information that he’d only just gotten out of the kid after telling him that he wanted him. --Apparently, that 'want’ was a lot stronger than any deal, bargain, bet, or whatever-else the kid could possibly come up with, the way the kid thought of them; it covered every last one of those and went a _lot_ farther than the best of them, _and then some_.)

Stan paused at the eager looks from the pair of demons at his announcement. They seemed _way_ too excited at the prospect of watching him work his own brand of magic, for whatever reason. (That was usually a warning sign with the kid. Or at least it definitely had been, before this whole ‘want’ thing… Stan wasn’t too sure yet how much stuff might’ve changed now, because of that.)

...Eh, well, guess it wouldn’t hurt to let ‘em learn. He was hoping to teach the kid all he could about how to deal with other people in non-lethal ways. Running cons _right_ \-- a proper con, to get the stuff you wanted without anybody getting hurt, or anybody walking away happy only to end up feeling jipped and _un_ happy about things later -- was part of that. Probably a good idea to teach the demon kid's sister too.

"Come on. We're wastin’ daylight here." Stan grunted as he looked around for a good place to set up shop. Now that he had the kid on his side, he'd be able to… do almost anything he wanted. (Holy shit. The idea made his head spin to think about. ...Probably a bad idea to follow through on, though. Ford'd kill him. No gold statues made in Stan Pines' honor, or treasure chests full of pirate treasure for him. Damn. The things he did for his brother...) Instead, he looked to the kid, and asked, "That perception filter invisibility thing still up?" Kid shook his head. "Good." He'd thought the one the kid had done on the roof was mostly somethin’ the kid had stuck in the boards, but he'd wanted to be sure.

Stan sighed, and the next thing he asked was, "Don't suppose either of ya think you could help me get a proper shirt or somethin’?" They were gettin' close to more people, and in order for Stan to be able to do his thing, they didn't just need to be able to be seen. To run a con, he would actually need to look half-presentable; he'd put his pants back on over his boxers this morning, but a half-stained wife-beater wasn't gonna cut it. Miz flicked her fingers (sort of a snap but not really) and Stan shivered as his clothes turned into his usual Mr. Mystery outfit -- without the fez, at least.

Stan let out a slow breath. That had felt _weird_ , and kind of been overkill, but… "Thanks, kid," Stan told her. Miz seemed delighted at the gratitude, perking up with more of a bounce in her step. ...Goddamn, these kids. Had they never gotten any positive reinforcement in their lives from _anyone_ other than their dead-and-gone siblings, a zillion years ago? (Stan took in another deep breath, and he shook it off.)

Speaking of presentable… Stan glanced over at the kid next, and up at _his_ hat, and the kid not quite rolled his eyes and waved a hand slightly. To Stan's eyes, the kid went from wearing a floating top hat, to no hat at all, his hair darkened to fully black, and his eyes looked to have normal pupils as far as he could tell without getting up close and squinting. Bill turned away from him, and the illusion(?) seemed to fade away. ...Right. So the kid was making himself blend in a bit to everybody else. Not an invisibility filter, but a normality one? Huh.

As they walked down the boardwalk, a man at one of the booths spotted them, eyes zeroing in on Bill who seemed relaxed and not really paying attention. A lazy teenage girl. "Step right up folks!" the man called out. "--You, miss! Want to try your luck?" The man had three cups in front of him. "Only $1 per try to see if you can guess which cup the ball is under!" He gestured up at the small stuffed animals hanging around his booth. "Winners get their pick from these lovely prizes~"

Miz's eyes lit up. "Ooh! They have squids!!!" She bounced over (with Bill and Stan trailing behind her at a much more leisurely pace), then stared up at a particular green doll. It had a crooked eye, unlike its siblings, and she _wanted_ it. Stan was starting to get the idea that Miz really liked dolls. Though, considering her vast collection from last night… did she really need any more?

Bill looked down at his sister and then stepped forward closer to the booth, wondering why Miz was so interested in the one doll she was staring at, when she could easily create a copy of it…

But when Bill got a good look at it, he stilled. He understood why his little sister wanted this _particular_ one. --He would get this for her!

Bill tilted his head at the man manning the booth, and then the game below him, with an eye half in his memories for things he'd already Seen about this particular human. (This dimension was nearly the same as the one they'd just come from, after all, and he'd Scanned things _HARD_ here, in looking for Pine Tree and Shooting Star.) The game didn't look very hard, but he didn't have a dollar on him and Stan's money wouldn't work here since the currency changes from the 2000s, so-- _ah._ Hm...

While Bill was still thinking, Miz stared up at the man. "Can we please see how the game works first?" she asked with an polite tone. The man grinned at her. "Of course, little lady." Both Bill and Miz stared unblinkingly at the full table as the man placed a ball under the middle cup and then moved the cups around quickly, expertly, before stepping back to wave his hands at them dramatically. "Where's the ball?"

Miz pointed at the cup on the right, because that's where it was. She Saw it. The man lifted the cup straight-up from the table. "Ah, too bad. Well you can pay to try again?" The man smiled. Miz narrowed her eyes. But the ball was there. She frowned, but Bill got a slightly sly look and reached forward to wrap his fingers around the man's wrist, of the hand holding the cup.

"Hey!" the guy protested, but Bill had too much leverage (from the invisible sci-fi bodysuit thing the kid was wearing, Stan realized) and Bill easily twisted the man's hand from palm-down to palm-up, and the cup he was holding along with it. (Stan frowned and started forward -- the kid didn't usually get physical with folks; something was up.)

" _Oh, how interesting!_ " Bill called out, in a voice a lot louder and projecting a lot farther than the kid usually did these days (which had Stan eyeing him as he approached). When Bill reached forward with his free hand and quickly plucked a ball out of the bottom of the cup to hold it between his fingers (while the mook had been busy trying to pry Bill's grip loose from his _wrist_ , heh, amateur), Stan got a bit of a smile. (He knew where the kid was going with this now, and stopped in place a couple of steps behind the kid still, rocking back on his heels and content to just watch, for now.)

"Why, the ball IS right here. My sister was CORRECT!" Bill called out, as he waved the ball around so anyone and their pet dog in the area could see it. Only then did he let go of the grip he'd had on the man's wrist, who scowled at him as he abruptly pulled away from Bill, quickly backing himself out of the line of fire and an easy arm's reach. And somehow, Bill ended up with the cup out of this. (Looked like the kid had let go of the wrist, but moved his fingers up to snag the cup immediately. The mook had been more focused on pulling away and checking his wrist than maintaining his grip on the cup. Seriously, amateur.)

"That's not-- that ball isn’t--" the mook began to try to claim, and _then_ the guy realized that he wasn't holding the ‘fixed’ cup anymore. (Heh.)

Half facing away from the stall, Bill theatrically dropped the ball into the cup, then turned the cup completely upside down and… no ball fell out. He turned it sideways, and waved it around slowly enough to show any bystanders (and there were a few by this point) that the ball was in the cup, and... magnetically stuck to the bottom. "Look at THAT! It's STUCK quite NICELY in there, ISN'T IT!" Bill said almost enthusiastically, before turning the cup upright and staring directly down into it. So did Miz; the kid was holding it far enough down that she could look into it, too.

And then the kid slowly turned his head towards the mook in the booth, eyes staring straight forward as the demon kid usually did while he slowly intoned, "HOW _IN-TER-EST-ING_." (Miz looked over at the guy, too, but she was doing more of a ‘sad little kid’ thing, instead. Neither of them were smiling. They both looked pretty expressionless, except around the eyes.)

The mook at the booth swallowed hard and started sweating. (Stan had to hold back a snort.) The guy jolted back slightly, as Bill turned the rest of his body towards him in one fluid motion (a little _too_ fluidly to be anything but creepy)...

... _shivered_ in place as Bill took a step towards him (clockwork creepy for that one)...

\--and jolted in place again as Bill himself took another step towards him right up to the edge of the booth (invading the guy's personal space).

(And Stan was pretty sure he knew when Bill must've suddenly _smiled_ at the guy, when the mook suddenly leaned back away from him quickly.)

Bill tilted his head slightly sideways at the guy, and from the look on the mook’s face, he felt like he was being eyed like a bug and he _wasn't_ liking it. Then Stan heard the kid ask him next, "You didn't MEAN to try and CHEAT my little SISTER, now, DID YOU?"

"N-now see here, miss--" The man started to back away, and Bill slammed the cup down onto the table, then leaned forward almost creakingly, at a flat angle forward, to continue staring at him (probably unblinkingly and with one of those fixed smiles of his, knowing the kid). They were starting to cause a scene, as the bystanders started to grow into a crowd, as people started telling each other what they’d just seen.

The mook in the booth glanced around nervously as the crazy girl in front of him said, "Now, finding that little PROBLEM with your EQUIPMENT here is REALLY VERY IMPORTANT!" Bill told the mook almost cheerfully, raising a finger to the sky. "ACCIDENTALLY having brought your MAGIC set of cups instead of your GAMBLING ONES is a problem, _RIGHT?_ " Bill said. (And Stan had to swallow the laugh, because the kid was actually giving the idiot an out and an exit strategy.)

"I, uh, I, m-magic? -- _Y-yes!_ " the mook said immediately, leaning back further at whatever change in expression had happened on Bill's face, which Stan couldn't see from where he was standing. "That's-- yes! _Entirely my fault!_ \--" the mook squeaked out.

"And I _really_ think we should get SOMETHING for the trouble of HELPING YOU OUT here," Bill ended, Stan saw the guy hesitate and look confused.

"H-helping me out?" The guy stared at Bill, then seemed to recover a bit and started to look angry. "Listen lady, you haven't even paid yet! So it's not like she would have gotten it anyway--"

" _OH~?_ " Bill said, creakily leaning in just that _little_ bit more (to make it _very_ uncomfortable), and the guy stopped short. "I’m pretty sure I DID just HELP YOU OUT," Bill said (with a full-on grin, Stan bet.) " _Why_ , if the COPS had come along and SAW THIS SETUP _before_ we did, WELL, would _they_ realize you'd make such a MISTAKE?" Bill said (and Stan could hear both the grin and the fine razor edge in his voice). "Oh no," Bill continued on, "THEY'D just think that YOU WERE TRYING TO CHEAT!" Bill called out, and Stan watched the guy turn nearly puce on them.

"So _I_ think my little sister deserves to have ONE LITTLE prize as a CONSOLATION for HELPING YOU OUT," Bill said, nodding his head slightly, and the mook nodded along with him almost as if hypnotized. Then, as the mook seemed to wake up a bit, about to protest, Bill hurled the ‘stolen’ fixed cup and ball at the mook's chest. And while the guy was scrambling to catch the cup, Bill reached out, deftly plucked the green squid from the hook, and handed it down to Miz without even looking at the board _or_ her, all in one fluid motion.

By the time the man had finished handling the cup, and looked up, opening his mouth to actually protest this time… The kid straightened up and ticked his chin upwards, head back as he did it -- and the motion drew the mook's eye upwards and behind the kid. The guy finally started paying attention to more than just the kid, getting a good look around at the small crowd that had surrounded the booth. And that crowd of people was starting to grumble louder and louder to each other about the rigged cup game.

Stan saw the exact second that the guy decided to switch from _trying to argue_ to just cutting his losses and getting the _hell_ out of there before his previous customers started demanding their money back. (Hell, he knew _that_ feeling.)

"Ah- I… THIS BOOTH IS CLOSED!" the man cried before grabbing up his money box, cups, and prize board, and hightailing it out of there. He wanted away from this scary creepy girl and the still-growing angry crowd.

Bill huffed out a soft breath of laughter and leaned back from the booth's table, straightening back up and then turning to look down at his little sister.

"Thanks big brother." Miz hugged the squid to her chest. She was already trying to figure out what to name it. Like Quaizor or Splish. Or maybe Billy Bob.

Bill smiled down at her indulgently, then turned to Stan. "...Booth?" the kid said smugly, gesturing back at it with both hands, as if presenting it to him. Stan blinked slowly, and then he got it.

"Did you two…" Stan looked between them. Did they really just… and without even talking to each other, planning it out, or _anything_?!

Miz shrugged. "He did call us over first. And I did want this doll." She pouted. "It's his fault for cheating!" Bill glanced down at her. "Good job getting the free game out of him, sis!" the kid enthused, giving her a smile and a pat on the head. Miz shrugged and blushed slightly. "I just asked nicely."

Stan sighed, because _these two._ And they hadn't even _needed_ to lie. Everything they'd done was perfectly in line with what their normal behavior already was. They'd simply found a way to use it to get what they’d wanted. (It made Stan wonder how intentional maybe all of it was, when and how they'd learned it. He'd seen the kid both 'high energy’ and 'low energy’ before, and this was actually pretty 'low energy’ for the kid, overall.)

(It also made Stan wonder how often the demon kid might've pulled this kinda crap on his brother.)

(Stan also noted that while the kid hadn't killed anybody to get the booth, or mentally scarred them for life, the kid hadn't actually acted much different than he usually did. So if Stan wanted the kid to 'regulate' his behavior any better than that, _without_ causing a scene or getting all creepy and 'demon-behavior’ on folks... there was the bar he'd have to clear. Not just them getting what they wanted, but better and easier and more quickly than _that_ : what the demon-kids had just done right there, the both of them together.)

...Well, whatever. (That was something for later. Stan had other things to worry about right then, like making enough money to be keeping them all fed.) They had a booth now, even if it was an empty one. Stan walked over and looked at what he had to work with. ...Well, there was a table? ...and a chair. That was... something.

Stan sighed. Woulda worked better if the guy had freaked out enough to leave behind the toy prizes, but… well, whatever. (Woulda set the bar higher for him, anyway.) He had a table and a chair. He'd figure something out.

Stan turned in place and glanced over at the kid, who was watching his sister play with her newest doll. "What should I name him? I'm stuck between Richarmando and Iseblonker." "HM. -- _TOUGH CHOICE!_ "

Ford was standing a bit farther away, in a solid ready-for-anything-you-can-throw-at-me stance with his arms crossed. He was scanning the boardwalk a little like a bodyguard almost when he wasn't sending glances back Stan's way, and looking pretty damn uncomfortable. Mabel was standing next to him, and Dipper was sitting down on the ground at Ford's feet, still working at scribbling down everything he could remember of what he'd learn the past day. (He hadn't been paying attention to any of this at all. But then, he usually tried to get away with ignoring most stuff that happened at the Mystery Shack with the tourists and the tours when he could.)

Mabel poked her brother, then just walked up to Grunkle Stan and the two demons, and stared at the stuffed animal Miz had 'won’ for herself. "So… what are we doing, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked him, Dipper following behind her (head still down in his new journal).

"We’re gonna sell somethin’," the old man said, as he made his way into the booth, moving the panel up and out of the way so he could get behind the table and sit down in the chair. He just wasn’t sure what, yet.

At Mabel’s confused look, "What are we going to sell?" Stan shrugged, and turned to Bill.

"What do ya think, kid. Can you make stuff?" Stan started with. He was thinking about asking after specifically ‘making music’ and ‘making magic’ next, if he needed to get more specific -- because entertainment could do it, just fine. He wasn’t too sure about how asking the kid to show off would go, though. Kid might go overboard.

Miz perked up at the mention of ‘making stuff’. "I can make stuff!" She leaned over the booth, kicking her legs. "I can make jewelry or dolls or spun glass? There's plenty of sand--!"

"Whoa, kid." Stan let out a laugh. "You're really excited for this?"

Miz nodded. "I used to have little booths at craft fairs and conventions to try and sell stuff I made back when I was human. Except the glass thing. I learned that after I became a demon. Playing with sand was one of the first things I did to practice my powers on."

(Dipper was scribbling furiously, only pausing for a moment to flip forward a few pages, writing that down, then flipping back again to pick up where he'd left off from everything else he was trying to record from _before_...)

Stan blinked. "Uh. If you really want to," he told her.

Miz grinned. "Yay!" she cheered, as Stan wondered how this was even going to work. ...Okay, she was running over to the side of the boardwalk to scoop up some sand. Stan was pretty sure she had a modified perception-whatever thing going on, too, since no one found it weird when the sand began swirling around next to her… and then she was holding a box. Huh. Stan raised his eyebrows, and leaned in to look down at what she’d made, when she walked over to show it to him.

They were earrings. Small, colorful and shaped like… octopus. And other ocean-type animals. Seals, crabs, sunfish… huh. They were actually kind of... pretty.

Stan glanced up at Bill, who’d turned in place to face ‘outwards’ away from the booth, leaning not quite sideways back against the edge of the table from the front (on the customer side, still).

"Got any ideas, kid?" Stan asked him. He’d been getting used to letting the kid start with what he wanted for awhile, and only talking him around if he needed to. He’d figured it’d leave the kid feeling less boxed in. So, he figured having the kid offer up ideas to start with was probably a good idea. (Hey, it had worked so far with him…)

Bill glanced over the jewelry. "This isn’t good enough?" Bill asked him, and Stan frowned at him slightly.

"That ain’t what I’m saying, kid," Stan told Bill, as he started pulling the earrings out of the box, getting ready to try and rearrange them in a way to make them more attractive to any old passerby. "These are pretty good, yeah. But if we sell these, the money’s gonna go to your sister, right? Not us."

As he left Bill to think about that one a bit, Stan looked over at Miz as he flipped the box over, to use it as a riser, and started laying out the earrings on top of it. "They're pretty well made," Stan told her. "How much do ya usually sell this stuff for?" he asked her, as he waved her over to his side of the booth, behind the table.

Mabel came right up to the table, to look at what Miz had made and Grunkle Stan had put out. She could help with their presentation, to make them look great! But she got a little distracted from rearranging them or trying to think of ways to pretty up the wooden plywood table, by the actual earrings themselves. She hadn't expected them to be so… cute.

"I used to charge by the type of animal it was. Around an average of $14. But since this is… a different time I think inflation hasn't set in as hard as 2013…" Miz tilted her head to calculate the price difference.

"Hey, you get what you pay for, and this here is what we call a specialty item," Stan told her. "I can guarantee you, _nobody_ around here is selling _anything_ like this. And this is a tourist trap," he told her. "Whatever you think you’d be sellin’ em for anywhere else, in a store? You double it for a booth, and you triple it again for the boardwalk, and people will still call it a steal."

"Ok." Miz blinked. "I never really knew how to price things. I had a friend as a human who was in charge of that. She said I couldn't sell them for $5." She tilted her head. "I had no idea how money worked."

Well, at least her friend hadn’t been trying to scam her. Stan literally shuddered at the thought of selling something handmade that cheaply. "Yeah, okay, look," he said. "There’s overhead, and then there’s profit. And the thing you gotta remember? Is that time is worth money. --How long did it used to take you to make even one of these earring sets, back when you were human?" Stan asked her upfront.

"A couple hours? I would make them in sets so I could make multiple at once. While one pair was drying I'd work on the others and make as much as I could in one sitting." Miz thought.

"Okay, uh, you have to do anything to ‘em after they finished… drying?" Stan asked her. "How many of these things did you usually make at a time? And how much did the stuff cost? The… paper and any other stuff to make ‘em?"

"The fancy paper can cost up to $15 for a packet of 30 pages. The cheaper ones that are still good quality are around $10?" Miz blinked. "And the wires can be bought in bulk for around $15-$20-ish too…"

Mabel was squealing as she held up a pair of turtles. "They're sooo pretty!"

Stan smiled. "Yeah, they sure are pumpkin." He glanced back over at Miz, getting back to the business side of things. Might as well make sure that Miz's human friend way back when had been right about the price. "How many wires in a bulk package? One wire per earring, right? And how many of these… origami things? Could you make per sheet?"

"There's about 500 ear wires in a bulk pack, and 200 headpins, I make the earrings small so one sheet of origami paper can make 16 squares." Miz frowned in thought.

"You need an ear wire and a headpin to make an earring? Or just one?" Stan didn’t know the terms.

Miz held one up and pointed to the ‘hook’. "This metal bit where it can connect to someone's ear. So that's two per earring since, you know, there's two of them."

Mabel was nodding. "I've always wanted to make real jewelry… instead of just Doritos I stick on my ears." (Dipper grimaced, half-listening to their conversation, but didn't comment.)

"Okay, so, one ear wire per earring, two ear wires for a two earring set," Stan said. "Didn’t use the headpins?"

"The headpins are the wire that connects the paper part to the ear wire." Miz explained. "So two for two."

"Sounds like a hot dog and hot dog bun problem," Stan huffed out. She got more ear wires than headpins, so she’d always run out of headpins first.

Miz rolled her eyes. "I know. So I just have to get more every few months."

"Okay, huh. So…" 100 earring sets per pack, 15-20 cents a set for that. 16 origami things to attach per sheet, 8 earring sets per sheet -- go with the expensive one -- 50 cents a sheet meant around 10 cents per earring set, say, if three of ‘em got screwed up or she needed something larger sometimes. "What needed drying?" Stan asked her next.

"Varnish. I coated the paper with it so it would be water resistant." Miz nodded. That was the most annoying part, not the least because the varnish would ruin the paintbrush used to apply them. She had to wash them constantly to keep them from drying and getting glued together. One of her friends had luckily gave her a bunch of old, ruined paint brushes from her job as an art teacher.

"Okay." Probably didn’t need a lot of that. That was around, what, $2-$4 a can? Probably last her… maybe fifty pages or so? If she’d coated them flat; probably wouldn’t be that much different for folded ones. So, around 4 to 8 cents a page? With 8 earring sets per sheet, that was half a cent to a whole cent per earring set. Add that all up, that was around 30 to 31 cents per earring set in materials, with no screw ups or waste.

That only left the price for the actual work itself. These things were so tiny. She must have worked hard to make them as a human. Stan stared at them. Must have taken a good bit of skill too. She said it took several hours to make them so… "Is maybe five earring sets in two hours a thing? More, or less?"

Miz thought about it. "That sounds about right. I like to get a lot of prep work done to make it more efficient."

"How long’s the prep work take?" Stan asked her. "About an hour for varnishing the paper while flat, have to wait for it to dry, on both sides. Cutting the paper into perfect squares takes like… a minute per sheet? Less if I have a paper cutter." Miz nodded. (Mabel was listening to Miz and her Grunkle Stan in absolute fascination. She made a note to ask Miz to teach her how to make these the _human_ way once they got home. It sounded fun!)

"What about cleanup?" Stan asked her next. "And packaging and stuff. Probably gotta stick ‘em in boxes or whatnot, yeah?" He was trying to figure out if he should count the ‘extra’ time as another hour-thirty minutes or so, or just let the five minutes go and stick with an hour.

"Boxes come in packs of 100 for $25. Clean up is like, 10 minutes?" she told him. ...Yeah, he was counting it as an hour-fifteen. Might as well split the difference, even if there was probably other stuff he didn’t even know to ask about her doing.

And see, this is why Stan liked selling junk in stores, too. The boxes she was needing to put the stuff in cost almost the same as the thing she was sticking inside them. Felt like a waste. But that reminded him, though, "You selling them in a store?" Miz shook her head. "Over the internet." Ugh, okay, so every time they sold one… "You have to pay for the boxes for shipping? ...And postage? Or that part of the shipping costs added in on top of everything?"

"The shipping boxes are…$35 for 100 shipping boxes." Miz frowned. "Wow, I forgot how much stuff I had to buy for this." And she hadn't even talked about the Beads, water colors and the hours spent walking along the beach, hunting for sea glass.

Stan grunted. "Okay, so per earring set, that’s 30 cents in materials, another 25 cents for the box to stick ‘em in, and another 35 cents for a shipping box, and I’m thinkin’ you should’ve charged postage separate," he said, looking at her.

Miz groaned. "Yeah. Shipping is expensive. Had one customer in Switzerland once, the shipping cost more than the price of the earrings."

Stan nodded. "And the internet stuff’s expensive." Melody had looked into it for Soos, and come to him with questions. He’d thought it was a racket. "Overhead for that can be stupid. Go with twenty percent of the pricetag of what you’re selling, maybe. Just so you don’t undersell it. Forget the business management stuff for now, that’s another whole thing," Stan told her scratching at his cheek. "Usually pay that out of the net profits or your own pocket, whatever. Depends on how you wanna think about it. --Anyway," Stan said, thinking out loud, "That’s 90 cents per earring set without even getting into a bunch of other junk like problems making the things, so let’s round it up to a dollar each. --You sell them for $14 dollars, set $3 aside for the internet stuff, the $1 for the rest, that’s $10 per earring set, and it takes around…" an hour-fifteen for five sets at once, so… "15 minutes per earring set?"

"That sounds about right? Well back when I was human, it was 2017, so inflation and all. $14 is the average but some of the more complex stuff like the octopus or the crabs--" she indicated how she had even made each crab leg "--cost $20." She scratched her head.

"Okay. So you’d be makin’ around $40 an hour on this stuff, then, if you could sell everything that you made nonstop, except that this stuff probably takes awhile to sell?"

Miz groaned. "I was lucky if I got one sale on my online store per month. But when I had a booth at a craft fair or something, I once made $500 in a day." That was great. Mabel gasped. No one bought her stuff online? Even though they were so pretty?

"Yeah, that barely even covers rent for the month someplace, though," Stan put out there for Mabel's benefit. "That’s still only, what, $50 an hour if you were there for 10 hours," eight hours of sales, one hour setup, one hour of tear down… "If you were sellin’ this stuff and pretending that you’d gotten them for free, anyway... So maybe half that actually, by the time you’re done, once you take that into account _and_ the cost of the booth?" Stan sighed, because...

"...At $10 per sale, but only one sale a month for the internet stuff, that ain’t enough to live on," Stan ended, with a hard feeling of commiseration. Doing sales on your own was hard. "Hitting the road where the customers can see you is important," he agreed, "And that craft fair sounds like it was a good deal, maybe," depending on the stall cost. But yeah, a craft fair for this stuff sounded a hell of a lot better than trying door-to-door sales. "Multi-day fairs are always better. Gotta budget for the downtime. Gotta plan right for the booth days, too." Running out always hurt more than having a few things leftover, because you knew you could’ve sold more. If she was smart and drive stuff in instead of shipping it, anyway; if you didn't then the stuff that you didn't sell had to be shipped _back_ , and that cost -- Stan had learned that one quick. Selling out of his vehicle had always worked better for him.

And the downtime always hurt; Stan knew how that went. He hadn’t been able to keep the Mystery Shack open during the winter, not and stay afloat. People just didn’t come; the roads were too bad. Wasn’t worth it to keep the Shack open during the week, or even on the weekends to the ‘general public’, with what he’d had to be paying Soos and Wendy. It had worked out better to just figure out new exhibits, have one or two weekends with ‘special events’ to draw in the locals from town to get that extra influx of cash to help pay the heating bills, and spend the rest of the time on the portal.

Miz sighed. "I didn't make enough to live off my art. Had a day job in retail." Stan nodded. If he’d been able to do that, he probably never would’ve ended up with the mob. But he hadn’t even had his high school diploma; he hadn’t been able to get any job, in retail or otherwise, that wasn’t something that somebody would call either ‘self-employed’ or ‘criminal’. Especially not after he’d started getting banned from states...

Dipper, who’d tuned out once they started talking prices, tuned back in and asked, "Wait, 2017? You're from the future?" Miz nodded. Dipper stared at her. "What was the future like?"

Stan snorted. "It’s only four years in the future, you nerd," he told Dipper.

"The new president was _essentially_ a Nazi, the planet was dying, and all the young people were drowning in debt from student loans and college tuition. People couldn’t afford to pay rent AND food and medical care was difficult to get." Miz deadpanned.

Dipper didn’t like the sound of that. "Nazi president, right. Have to watch out for that." He flipped forward a few pages again and made a few notes in his makeshift journal, while Stan looked on and sighed.

"If he exists in this dimension, and I hope to Ax that he DOESN'T, please don't let him win this time around," Miz pleaded. Sometimes the names for people and things seemed to have ended up different here in these human dimensions, but she figured they'd know him if they saw him. "That asshole wasn't a real Nazi, but he was very much a white supremacist. And a misogynist. He talked about his own DAUGHTER using words like, and I’m paraphrasing because the real quote is worse: 'If she weren't my daughter, I'd get with her’." Miz held herself back from swearing.

Stan winced. Teachin’ kids swears was one thing, but that kind of junk was definitely one too many ‘-ists’ for Stan to be wanting to worry about. And that comment about the guy's own daughter? _Hell._ Well, he guessed he could just grab his brother, get on the boat again, and sail off for awhile, if shit got _really_ bad, but…

"Well, the kids can’t vote, but me and Ford can," Stan told her, though it was a bit tongue-in-cheek -- not like he was against stuffing a ballot box or twelve. They’d finally gotten Stan’s identity junk straightened out a couple of months ago. (Good thing they’d been sailing by sea for pretty much all of their travels. Most smaller ports didn’t go askin’ for passports if you knew the language even a little bit. Stan hadn’t had to pull out any forgeries while they’d been out adventuring, luckily.) "Pretty sure that those lizard people and that Shadow Government that Ford’s always talkin’ up might have somethin’ to say about havin’ somebody like _that_ pretending to be runnin’ things, though, even if they are just some ‘shadow government’ puppet." Stan shrugged.

Miz sighed. "I very much hope your dimension ends up better than the one I came from. We didn't have demons; we had humans who just didn't care. The planet was dying and our government was doing everything in their power to pretend it wasn't and stopping anyone from trying to fix it."

Bill looked over at her. "Sounds annoying!"

Miz groaned. "Ugh… it was so stupid. Like, just… ugh…"

Dipper winced, very much hoping their dimension didn't end up like hers. Then the other part of her statement hit him. "Wait. There were no demons in your world?" he asked her.

"No demons, no magic, no weirdness. Only the collapse of our planet around us brought upon by humanity and their pursuit of convenience." She sighed. "Can we not talk about this? Not right now?" (Dipper gave her a disappointed look, but didn't press her for now. --He wrote a note to himself in his journal to try asking her again later when she was in a better mood.) She turned to Stan. "So how much should I sell these for here? In this time period?"

"Eh," Stan said. Like he cared about inflation. "Go for the $14. Why not?"

Once that was decided, Miz and Mabel worked to get the items displayed. Miz got some more sand to turn into small jewelry stands. Mabel brought up the idea of using the sand itself, unchanged, as little sand dunes, to brighten the jewelry display area up -- since pretty much all of them were sea creatures. As they worked, Stan turned to address Bill again.

"Ok, now that your sister's all set…. you got any ideas for earning money here?" Stan said, trying to leave it as open-ended as he could, and he watched as Bill frowned a bit.

After a little while longer, Bill made an upwards-reaching motion for his hat, and Stan watched as the demon kid stuck his hand in past the brim and pulled out a handful of _something_ , to slap the things down on the table next to each other in a quick _one-two_ succession.

Stan blinked, and then he stared.

"...Really, kid?" Stan asked him, as the kid put his hat back on above his head, to leave it floating there again. Because if there was one thing he might’ve been expecting out of the kid, it wouldn’t have been an actual tarot card set _and_ a normal deck of cards.

(Sure, he’d been sort of playing ‘Go Fish’ with the kid since he’d come back from the dead, but…)

"I can do card tricks; you can tell fortunes," Bill said, though it was actually more of a question with the way the kid said it.

Stan thought about this. "That’s… actually a pretty good set of ideas," Stan put out there. Heh. "What do I owe ya for renting the cards." But at that, Bill blinked at him.

"I’m helping," Bill told him, looking away from him again.

...Huh. Kid was really serious about the whole ‘helping until they were gone’ thing. ...Made him wonder which things the kid was doing because of _what_ , actually. Because between the 'helping him’ stuff for the bet, and the 'wanting him’ stuff, and this 'not talking much’ thing in-between… (Damn. He wasn’t gonna be able to figure out the difference between any of these until this thing was done and they were all home again, was he.)

"Okay, kid," Stan said. "If you’re sure." That got him a "Yes," from the kid. Stan sighed. "Right," said Stan, awkwardly picking up the tarot deck. He hadn’t messed with this stuff in years. Not since long before he’d gotten himself kicked outta the house, and the family. Felt a little weird.

As Stan shuffled the deck, though, he relaxed, because it turned out that maybe _he_ felt like it had been forever and a day ago, but his _fingers_ sure remembered them just fine. Stan smiled a little, as he leaned back in his chair and let out a soft, slow sigh. Muscle memory, huh? Well, he could work with this. He started flipping through the cards, flipping them around and slapping them onto the table. It was quick, easy, smooth; his old hands really hadn't lost their touch, even with the larger cards.

He was pretty good at cold-reading from his wandering days, and he remembered what all the cards were supposed to mean in the broad strokes. He looked up at the kid. "Got any more of that paper you gave Dipper?" Kid pulled some more out, and Stan (after adding the paper to his mental tally, along with the journal supplies, the gold coins, and the cards…) borrowed Dipper’s pen to start writing up signs for things.

It didn't take all that long. A few broad strokes later, along with a couple of heavier sea shells from the beach to weigh a few things down and a few curved shards to shove into one of the wood posts facing outwards as pushpins, and they had themselves a halfway-decent display with pricing signs attached.

Mabel placed a starfish-shaped earring down and turned to Miz. "When we get home, will you teach me?" Miz made such a happy expression that Mabel was a little taken aback.

"I'd love to teach you!" Miz told her as she arranged her wares, wiggling with glee. She'd offered to teach her friends and sisters before but none of them had ever had the patience for it. Only Will had ever...

...she shook that thought away.

They were just finishing setting things up when the beach cops showed up.

Ford bristled as they approached him _with guns_ this time, and he started to reach for his own.

Stan saw Bill glance over, then flick his fingers towards Ford, and Stan... saw something odd for a second. The lay of Ford’s coat looked a little different, almost flatter...

Stan pulled in a breath, and he took the ‘help’ at face-value -- because damn, he knew Ford wasn't gonna like getting cast on, but the kid knew what he was doing.

Stan didn't waste any time, not wanting to test the limits of whatever illusion the kid had just put on his brother. --He practically vaulted the table (well, shoved his way around and through the flip-bench there pretty damn quick; he wasn’t his brother) and jogged his way over.

"Hey!" Stan called out to the two cops, in as thick of a Jersey accent as he could manage. "What’s the problem, here! You mooks gonna try to cop a feel on my brother again?"

_That_ got a hell of a lot of people’s attention, and both his brother and the cops dropping their hands away from their sidearms for a moment to look over at him in confusion.

"What?" said the first cop (hell, what was his name? Stan had never learned it, he and Ford had only given the beach cops dumb nicknames way back when).

"--I said, stop tryin’ to cop a feel on my brother," Stan repeated, as he came up to his side. "He’s sensitive." _That_ got him a half-frowning, half-incredulous ‘what the _hell_ are you doing?!’ look out of his brother, which was practically worth it for that, alone. (It also got a few odd murmurs from some of the others around them, like ‘was that supposed to be a pun?’ and ‘what’s going on?’)

"Cop a feel, nothin’!" the second cop said. "You get your hands _up_ where I can see ‘em, _right now!_ "

"Why?" said Stan, putting his hands up, sure, but in a palms-out, calming gesture. "What has my poor, saintly brother done, that’s got you coppers runnin’ after him for the last two days, tryin’ to feel him up?" Stan said.

"--He’s armed!!" the second cop said angrily, starting to pull out his weapon. Stan quickly stepped half in front of his brother, knowing it would startle Ford enough that he wouldn’t draw his own weapon yet. (He wanted his brother covered, and he still really didn’t want to know how far whatever spell the kid had done went, if he could help it.)

"What? Noooooo," Stan gasped out, as if completely shocked by the words coming out of that cop’s mouth. " _My_ brother? _Armed?_ You gotta be joking," he told the cops, and he could practically feel the confused consternation steaming off of his brother behind him.

"St--" Ford stopped abruptly, then said. " _Get out of the way._ "

"Well, sure, oh brother of mine," Stan said, turning halfway towards him. "I mean, pretty sure the best way to clear this whole thing up is for them to see you’ve got nothing like what they’re talking about under your coat. --Y’know, zero guns. You have zero guns under your coat and on you," Stan told him with a straight face. ...Aw hell, now Ford just had his face all scrunched up, lookin’ flat-out confused at him.

Miz and the rest of the kids were watching closely, Miz and Bill because they were eager to see the look on Ford’s face. Dipper and Mabel were more worried.

"Get out of the way, and--!" the second cop demanded, and Stan held his hands up, palms-out again.

"Sure-sure," Stan told them, making a waving towards them gesture a bit as he said it. "Just, y’know, let my brother show ya that you were obviously seeing things before, before you go shooting somebody for no good reason, yeah?" Stan said, to the two cops’ frowns and his brother craning his head to look down at him like he was out of his flipping mind, as Stan took a short step to the side, and then another.

"Okay, bro," Stan told him, still looking at the cops, while watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. "Go ahead and hold out the sides of your coat. ...Y’know," Stan said, as the cops started looking antsy in front of them again, " _Now_."

Ford didn’t quite glare at him at his demand, but he _did_ grab the lapels of his coat and slowly pulled them out to the sides like he'd asked (and was thoroughly annoyed with him as he did it, because it would take him _that_ much longer for him to draw them when he had his hands full of coat), putting the gun he had at each hip out on full display. ...Or so he thought.

Both the cops stared. "But he…" the first cop said, lowering his hand from his sidearm. The second cop looked pissed.

"--All right, you wiseguys," the second cop drawled out, "What’d you do with ‘em. Sell ‘em?" he said angrily, as he holstered his pistol in frustration.

"Dunno what you’re talking about," Stan said, cool as a cucumber, as his brother glanced between him and the cops in confusion, and slowly lowered his arms full of coat. "We’re here in town seein’ some relatives. Weren’t plannin’ on shooting nobody," Stan told them. "I left all the guns at home."

"Home?" the first cop (younger of the two) took the bait.

"Yeah, Oregon."

The cop frowned and asked next, "What relatives?"

"The Pines family," Stan told them. "Run a pawnshop on twenty-second and third, Pines Pawns -- you heard of it?" The cops exchanged glances and started to relax slightly. "Buncha troublemakers, the lot of ‘em," Stan added, and that got him a few chuckles out of a smattering of the locals about.

"Those boys of theirs are always gettin’ in ta trouble." one of the locals commented. _That_ finally got a pair of slightly frustrated ‘oh hell, _those_ ones,’ looks out of the two cops.

"Yeah," Stan said. "Guess why we moved to Oregon? It’s a hell of a lot more peaceful there. Mostly. Sometimes. ...Almost," he added, glancing over at Ford, who practically pursed his lips at him and gave him an, ‘I _know_ what you’re _really_ implying there’ look.

"Yeah, anyway," Stan said, turning back to the cops. "Shoulda said something sooner, instead of just grabbing at my brother. He don’t take people getting handsy with him well," Stan said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "Gotta at least buy him a drink first! And, y’know, being a girl helps a lot." (Ford made a strangled noise at him that sounded a lot like, "-- _Helps?!_ ")

That got the younger cop backing off real quick. The older cop still looked pissed.

"He still socked Clyde in the jaw," the second cop said. "That’s assault on a police officer, you--"

"--and you sure could take him in for that, yeah," Stan interrupted him smoothly. "And then your buddy Clyde would have to go on explaining _why_ he was feelin’ up my brother, who’s got no guns on him, coppin’ a feel in some places that really _oughta_ get a buddy punched. Stir up a whole buncha trouble that nobody really needs," Stan sighed, shaking his head. " _Y’know?_ " And Stan wasn't really liking how he was having to lean on queerphobia in 1970’s Jersey for this one, but...

The cop backed down, but he didn’t look real happy about it. He looked around looking for an excuse -- any excuse -- to get them for _something_ , out of all the hassle they'd caused him and his buddy 'Clyde’... and looked over at the booth where Stan had come from. The children standing there.

"You got a permit for that?" the second cop said next, tossing a thumb at the booth. "And why aren’t those kids in school?" he added suspiciously.

"We’re from out of state visiting," Ford said smoothly, crossing his arms and picking up the threads of the tale. (Probably a good thing he'd gotten a little practice at this kinda thing with him from their boat trip, Stan figured. Ford had been absolute crap at it the first couple of times he'd tried--) "The children are staying with us for the interim, in lieu of their parents being busy."

"--They’re from California," Stan put out there. "We’re plannin' on homeschooling ‘em in the meantime if we need to," Stan said. It was the excuse he was planning on using for Bill having no records; he really didn’t feel like forging that many of them. Too complicated for just one year of high school. Better to keep it simple. "Except for the oldest one; Billi there’s been staying with us for awhile now," Stan told them easily. "You got any idea how hard it is to take a kid out of school, just to visit family?" Stan confided. "Headache and a half, I tell ya. --You think you can take a kid on a trip and _not_ have the teachers tossin’ a metric half ton of schoolwork at their head? A week’s worth of junk is practically a whole second suitcase!" Stan groused out. (He knew that things being too pat would make stuff suspicious. ‘Sharing’ a few messy details usually had people believing you a lot more easily.)

"Permit?" the second cop asked again. Miz made a motion with her hand and pulled a few papers out from under the booth. If Stan had to guess, she probably just swiped the permit the mook whose booth they'd took had been using, probably edited it over. (Crud. Now he’d have to guess, or…)

"Yeah, 'course we do. You wanna take a look at the papers?" Stan said, waving them over and refusing to sweat. He made sure to get over there first and wave a hand at Miz, to take them from her before the cops could. "Miz, you got the--? Thanks," he said to her as he glanced over them quickly, before passing them over. (...Okay. Good. No imagination. That was fine. He could work with this.)

So when the cops took one look at the papers and they said out loud, and rather incredulously, "Stanford and Stanley Pines? Like the--" Stan just shrugged at them and said, "Family names. Twins run in the family, so do a couple other things. --Ford, show ‘em your hands," he told his brother.

Ford nearly cursed him out on the spot, and Stan saw him almost refuse. But, props to his brother, Ford took in a deep breath, braced himself, and he actually did it.

The cops blinked. "Huh. Whaddya know?" they hummed, looking them over. "Didn't realize this was a sort of thing that happened."

"Yep," said Stan (as Ford slowly lowered his hands again) "It’s a thing," shrugging it off like it was no big deal -- which, really, it should’ve been for anybody who didn’t think it was just downright cool instead. (Not that they’d ever gotten much of _that_ , ever. Like, never.)

The cops nodded. Well, it definitely checked out to them. Although… "So what's with that Oriental girl?"

"Billi’s sister. Different mothers," Stan said. "The adoption process is hell, lemme tell ya. Way easier if you can just say, ‘oh, this is my sister’ and leave it at that. If they didn’t have the same last names, hell… got enough trouble with the two of ‘em as it is," Stan deadpanned.

The first cop looked over at Bill and Miz, at Bill’s seemingly all-black hair and the way Miz was pressed up against his side, the casual arm draped around the younger one. "So, you're adopting them?" the first cop asked. The two didn't look too similar, but… different mothers, huh?

"Kid’s seventeen," Stan told them, shrugging again. "Pretty independent. Parents are dead. Probably easier to go the ‘emancipation of minors’ route if we tried to do anything, but any stupid paperwork we’d have to do going through the system would take a hell of a lot longer than her just turning eighteen, yeah? Figure we’ll just take care of ‘em for however long we need to, and the rest of it can just sort itself out all on its own," Stan said. (And damn, the idea of _adopting_ the kid? _Hell._ \--After all this was over and done with and they were all home again? Stan was gonna laugh himself sick over _that_ one for **days**.)

The cops nodded as they handed the permit back. "It all checks out." The second cop looked a little sour, but he still did his job anyway, instead of making something up on the spot. "Well, I hope you enjoy your stay here in Jersey," said the first cop. The second cop said with a glare: "Don’t go causing any more trouble."

"That’s the plan!" Stan told them with a Mr. Mystery grin, as he took the permit back from them, not making it at all clear which one of them he was talking to in reply. "Be seein’ you around, yeah? --Got a couple good sets of earrings here, if you’re interested in anything for the missus, or maybe a girl you’ve got an eye on? Yeah? Yeah?" the original 'Mr. Mystery’ cajoled them.

_That_ got the two cops heading off a good bit faster than trying to loiter in the area, sticking around; they weren’t greenies, they knew enough to know they did **not** want to get pulled into the usual selling spiel that most of the boardwalk tried to pull over on ‘em when they could, just for fun. That could keep them there for hours; the locals all knew the drill. (There was a running pot for whoever beat the latest longest time, per officer. With the one greenie of the pair there, that probably meant… Stan stifled a chuckle.)

As soon as they disappeared from the area, Dipper slumped over with a groan. Mabel splayed herself out across the table and sighed out, "I can't believe we made it through that!" Because that had been worse than when Grunkle Stan had had the Truth Teeth in!

Bill let out something that was almost a snicker, as he patted an also-relieved looking Miz on the head. "You really never change, do you, Sixer? Punching a cop in the face for no reason..."

" _He tried to take my guns_ ," Ford said angrily, thoroughly offended. He’d had a reason! A good one! --It was _rude!_ And entirely unnecessary!

Stan snorted. "Right." His brother, sometimes. "Y'know, if we're all set up here, let's try to make some sales, yeah?"

That got him a bunch of cheers from the younger set. And after all that, it didn’t take him too much effort to steer Ford inside the booth and to the back of it. (Ford was still reeling from the fact that, _technically_ , Stan hadn't lied to the cops about anything at all, except the fact that he himself had been carrying guns. He'd ‘just’ been _highly_ misleading in what he'd related to them, to the point of the two police officers completely missing the point...)

"Why did you…" Ford breathed out quietly to his brother, once they were inside and a bit farther away from the demons. "You lied by omission nearly _every_ \--" time he'd opened his mouth.

"--Didn't want to risk losing the kid, not following along with the thread," Stan told him under his breath, pushing him along. (Because having the kid look confused in the middle of all that? Yeah that wouldn't have gone over well.) "--I meant what I said, Ford. Sleep in the back of the booth." He practically shoved him down to the concrete ground, and waved Bill over.

"You--" Ford began, starting to sit up, alarmed as Bill approached. "Wait, what are you _do_ \--".

Ford shivered as Stan just turned away and said, "--Kid, blankets and junk?" Ford stayed tense, breathing a bit faster, as Bill pulled his hat off of his head and started pulling out items.

"...Stanley," Ford said slowly, realizing the other problem with what had just happened out there with the police. "You know I’m armed. Why didn’t they see--" Ford stopped, paling slightly, as Stan ticked his head towards Bill's floating hat, which had _also_ gone uncommented upon by the officers of the law, and then gave him a _look_. Bill must have cast a spell to-- Bill had cast a _spell_ on him? _Without saying anything?_ (No that was-- There had been no laughter, no taunting, _no warning_ \--)

"Yeah," said Stan, seeing his brother's change in expression. "Kid’s being helpful. To me," Stan said, and Ford shivered again. "‘Cause bailing you outta jail would kinda put a crimp in my profits here, today. Yeah?" Stan told him next, pretty damn tongue-in-cheek, eyebrows raised.

His brother glared up at him, but he still grabbed a blanket and then a pillow from the pile Bill had just re-produced for them and settled in with them _without_ starting a fight with him or the kid, so Stan was calling that one a win.

Ford glowered at their backs as Stan headed back to the table and sat down. (He figured he deserved the only "real" chair they had; he was the one doing fortunes. Would’ve been nice if they had a second one to-- ...Oh, right.)

"Hey, kid," Stan asked of him. "You still got that crate in there?"

Bill pulled it out and set it down at the visitor’s side opposite him in short order, for him. --There. Knew he’d been missing something.

...And while he was at it, Stan asked Bill to pull out the beanbag chairs while he was at it, for the kids. They’d get tired eventually. Dipper sat down in his in the back pretty much right away, still going at his new journal-thing. Mabel’s stayed empty for now. ...And Bill pulled one out for Miz, too, but they left it in the back. Easier for her to sell standin’ up; Stan told the pair of them that she’d be needin’ it soon enough once she’d sold out all her jewelry.

Miz slipped a pillow behind Stan's back on his chair. The old man raised an eyebrow at her, not sure what she was up to, but he didn't protest.

Miz easily moved to stand beside the booth. She was helping Mabel put on a pair of turtle earrings to walk around wearing, doing advertising for her.

"Can you make a mirror outta glass?" Stan asked the two demon-kids. "People could do that thing where they hold ‘em up to their face and junk," and look in the mirror to see if they liked what they saw. That was a thing, right?

Miz nodded and went to get some more sand. Bill watched from the other outer corner of the booth, where he was casually leaning up against one of the posts and shuffling the card deck over and over again. (Stan saw the kid flick the brim of his hat with a finger, and then lower it to his head -- huh, it didn’t have to float? -- and he figured that now the thing was visible again. But the kid had done that _why_? Stan eyed him for a moment, considering. ...Well, okay. It _did_ make the kid look a _little_ more magician-y. Kind of.)

Miz came back with a small salad-plate sized standing mirror for the table -- nothing fancy, simple and efficient. She seemed excited to be selling again. Mabel was moving her head back and forth in front of the mirror, checking out her reflection as her new turtle earrings dangled down. "They're so light. I barely feel them!" she exclaimed.

"That's the point. My human friends used to complain about their ears hurting after wearing their earrings for a while. So I figured paper would be much easier and less stressful on people's ears." Miz placed the mirror down. "And I was already making origami animals all the time so I figured I might as well do something with them."

Stan grunted. So it was her human friends that had brought up the idea of her makin’ her art into something commercial. Huh. Interesting.

Mabel grinned at Miz and then headed off, running around the boardwalk, meeting and greeting people and proudly displaying her earrings to them as she went. She showed 'em off and talked 'em up, too, talking about how there were more, even prettier ones for sale at their booth. (Stan grinned as he watched this -- he'd taught her well.)

A few people came by and cooed at the colorful display of paper sea animals. Stan watched Miz for a bit, to see how she sold her work. She greeted them with a polite, "Good afternoon, ma’am!" and explained how her wares were made of varnished paper so they were water-resistant and super-light. Stan noticed that she had a proper ‘retail voice’, one that was pitched just a little higher than her normal tone, real open and humanly-friendly.

But she wasn't pushing for sales, though; she was just timidly standing back and letting people take their time. Stan frowned. She seemed almost… shy? And it didn't seem like just an act. Huh. He wasn't expecting that. He stood up and dropped a hand on top of her head, patting her on the head for doin’ a pretty darn good job so far. But if she _really_ wanted to sell, well! Stan decided to take over a bit, to show her how it was done! --On the boardwalk in Jersey, at least.

"You won't ever find anything like this anywhere else. These are all handmade by the little lady here! Quite the talent, huh?" Stan grinned.

And sure enough, the group of women gasped as if on cue. "She made these? All by herself?"

"Yup. She worked _real_ hard on ‘em too." Stan glanced back at her, then leaned forward a bit conspiratorially, placed a hand next to his mouth, and fake whispered to the lot of them, "She thought no one would wanna buy ‘em, doesn't believe us when we tell her that they're beautiful." Miz took her cue perfectly, making an embarrassed squeak and burying her face in her hands.

The women cooed at how sweet and adorable that was, before each one of them picked out a pair. Under the table and out of sight, Miz formed little boxes to put them in, while Stan dealt with the money exchange. As Miz handed them their boxes, she said shyly. "Ah… t-thank you for the purchase," which just made the women titter and coo at her again.

As soon as they left, Stan handed the money over to Miz, who took the stack of bills, pulled out a few and handed them to Stan. The old con-man sighed. "Kid, you don't hafta--"

"Commission, since you helped make the sale. I did the same with my friends," Miz mumbled. Stan gave her a long look, then nodded; he accepted that, that was good business practice. (He still pocketed it in a different pocket, to keep it separate. He'd hand it over to the kid for her later.) He also watched Miz hand Mabel a few dollars (when she came back to the booth to check out if things were going well), with a soft, "For advertising."

Mabel grinned. "Woo! I made money by being adorable!" She pocketed the bills and ran off to charm some more tourists. Stan couldn't help but let out a, "Heh." Well, with Mabel all set on that, it was time for him to work his magic as well.

"Step right up folks! Wanna get your fortune read? Only $5!" Stan called out, grinning as he shuffled the tarot cards. "Or, if you wanna be wow'ed, by some magic--" he gestured dramatically to Bill, staring down at the deck of playing cards, which he was spreading out and pulling back into a deck again, just playing with it a bit absently, not doin’ much _yet_ , "--It's $2 to see the show!"

A few people wandered over, some curious, some just bored. Stan grinned winningly. "Come on, just a bit of fun!" he called out to them. "Wouldn't ya like to know your fortune?" (He heard a soft snort from behind him, probably from his brother. ...Hey, so he did it different than their ma did; so what? The peanut gallery here… he’d like to see Ford try and pull it off! ...Y’know, once his brother was done with _getting himself some sleep_.)

Seeing a couple wander over, the girlfriend looking interested while the boyfriend seemed annoyed, Stan tried again, calling out, "Hello miss! Wanna have your fortune read? Only $5 and heck, I can even throw in a quick one for your boyfriend there for half-off, if you get a couple's reading?"

(It wasn’t quite physically painful for Stan to _not_ try and upcharge them for the couple’s reading, to go with the ‘normal’ (ew) _discount_ thing instead, but… He did have a couple of reasons for not trying to pull that on anybody, here and now.)

(One, this was 1970’s Jersey -- not the backwoods of Oregon in the 2000’s -- the common joe on the street _here_ had two brain cells to rub together and some street smarts besides. He probably wouldn’t get anywhere with that shit without making it some real kind of hustle. ...And two, he was tryin’ to set a good example for the two demons, here. Stan knew full well that if he went around ripping people off in front of the pair of them for what he was calling a ‘proper’ con _now_ , one that was _supposed_ to be as close to ‘fair’ for his customer-marks as he could make it… he’d just be shooting himself in the foot. The kid would just mirror that _right_ back at him later, ‘upcharging’ him for wanting _more_ from him sometime, instead of keeping things ‘fair’ at the same ‘price’, or maybe even at ‘less’ of a total cost to him instead -- because that would be exactly what the kid would’ve _learned_ from him if he did that, as _acceptable_ for him to do. Hell, the kid would probably pull it on him at the worst possible time, too...)

(...And Stan wasn’t _about_ to put up with that kind of junk from the kid, _or_ his human-demon sister -- now, or ever.)

The woman laughed. "Come on, Tom. It's just $7. It'll be fun." The guy rolled his eyes but still handed over some bills with an indulgent smile. Stan glanced at the couple. Forget a cold reading -- from just _looking_ at the guy, he could tell that the boyfriend wasn't all that interested in any of this. The guy felt that seeing these booths was a waste of time and money. The woman on the other hand… cold-reading _her_ , she was excited to see and experience everything, what with the way she kept glancing around at everything, taking it all in.

Stan flipped the tarot cards out onto the table, neat as you please, and easily spun a reading about how the woman was an adventurous soul. "Tom here, not so much," Stan said, as he reshuffled, dealt out, and started turning over the next set of cards. "Let’s see here… Huh. He's more of the laze around and enjoy your company sort of guy."

The boyfriend shrugged, "I guess?" while his girlfriend giggled. "--Oh my god, yeah. He just wants to sit around and read all day."

Stan nodded solemnly. "Nothin’ wrong with that." He tapped the table lightly in front of him, just a little bit away from the edge of the nearest card. "It looks to me like he's happy just being with you," he said while looking them in the eyes, leaving it to each of them to decide whether he'd meant 'from the cards’ or 'from just watching them’. "He came out here with you, didn't he?" He watched the two smile at each other and squeeze their hands together, the saps.

"So, what's in our future?" the woman asked. Stan glanced down again at the cards he'd laid out. "Talk more. Take turns on what you guys wanna do," he told them. It was simple, straightforward advice. Tell the people what they want to hear, and say what they already believe. That's what people wanted from a tarot reading ‘just for fun’. (The serious ones were a different story… you had to be careful with those.)

They walked away with smiles, holding each other close in an almost sickeningly-sweet display of public affection. Stan was glad Mabel was still running around, out trying to advertise Miz’s earrings to everybody on the boardwalk and their pet dog, or she'd be squealing loud as an air raid siren and slapping somebody in the arm in excitement.

A couple of people wandered their way over, looking at Bill. Some of them were muttering amongst themselves (not realizing how far their voices actually carried), and from the sounds of things, they were trying to decide if they wanted to see the kid’s ‘magic’ show or not.

Stan looked down and realized that Ford had been staring at the kid closely the whole time. Stan grumbled to himself and nudged him with a foot. "Sleep, Poindexter."

Ford grumbled right back and refused, even as his eyes twitched and Dipper looked over at him in worry. ( _Someone_ needed to watch Bill, to be ready to try and stop him when he-- and Stan _wasn’t--!!_ Stan wasn’t-- wasn’t...) Ford looked away. He’d gotten into exactly this same mindset before, and… (then had trouble sleeping at night, and _then_... Ford looked over at Dipper again, who was still giving him a look of worry, one that looked exactly the same as he’d had the day that… that they’d broken their Deals with Cipher. And…) then he had lost it later that night.

Ford grimaced. (He couldn’t do this again. Not _again_ , not after ~~everything else that he’d~~...) With Dipper looking at him like that, and at the idea of how Mabel would be looking at him if she was in the back of the booth with them as well, Ford forced himself to lay down flat and... curled an arm under his head, at least. (If he managed to get any sleep in the near-term with everything that was going on with his brother and the two demons right now… Ford wasn’t sure whether he would call that a minor blessing, or a curse instead. Likely the latter; he still couldn’t believe that Stan had just _given himself over_ to--)

\---

Bill was doing his spreading-unspreading the deck thing still, just leaning against the post and being pretty quiet, when a younger child stomped up to him.

"Show me some magic!" the child demanded. Bill didn’t respond right away. "I said--"

"--show you some _magic?_ " Bill said, keeping his head tilted down towards the cards. "Are you _suuuuuure_ about that?" Bill drawled out quietly, before slowly lifting his chin, just a touch. "Or… would you rather have a _card trick_ instead?" Bill said, sounding a little… (...Huh. The kid's voice was a little different than usual, and Stan was having some trouble placing the tone. It wasn’t… smooth exactly, it wasn't like any of the edges were gone. Nope, the edges were still definitely _there_ , but… they didn’t seem really all that sharp. Not soft or nothin’, or slippery, or fuzzy, just… flexible, kinda. Not bendy, exactly, but... maybe more like a sponge? Spongey-edges and -corners. The thought left Stan blinking.)

Bill's sponge-edged (teasing?) taunt of a question left the child looking slightly confused for a couple seconds. Then the child frowned up at Bill. "Magic!" the child said firmly.

"Oh?" That had the kid straightening in place, instead of his more bent over posture. The kid was still leaning against the pole behind him though. (Not fully-committed yet, yeah.) "Are you sure you’d even be able to tell the difference?" the kid… _teased_ the child? Stan saw the smile that the kid had going; it was trouble, but… not the ‘I’m gonna cut you’ trouble. Stan wrapped up his own deck, keeping half an eye on the kid as he did.

"Hmmmm," said Bill. "Well. Magic is to be had here, most certainly. But only for two dollars."

The child frowned at him, looking frustrated and a little pouty. The child crossed his arms, almost glaring up at Bill where he stood…

(...and it finally occurred to Stan to wonder, where were this child’s parents? Couldn’t be local; he’d never seen the child around the boardwalk or the town before.)

"Hey," called out one of the adults in the group that had been debating just paying the two bucks. "I’ll pay it." The guy waved two one-dollar bills in the air at them, as he walked towards Bill.

Bill straightened up and away from the pole, fully upright. He transferred the deck of cards he was holding to his left hand, then swept his hat off of his head with his right and held it out towards the guy expectantly, eyes gleaming.

The guy dropped the money in, and took a step back. And Bill flipped the hat, over and over again with his fingers, as he pulled it back in and put it back on top of his head to lay flat there against his head.

"Well-well-well," said Bill, rocking back and forward on his heels. "So somebody wants to see some _real_ MAGIC, hmmmMmMM?" The kid got a grin. "WELL then! I’d _hate_ to disappoint!" The kid gave the child below him a glance -- eye movement only. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you." And Stan stared as Bill gave the child a _wink_.

The child blinked up at him.

Stan let out a slow breath. Give the kid an inch; fix things _later_ if they needed fixing. Right…

Miz and Dipper were watching Bill closely, with very different expressions on their faces. The dragon-demon seemed thrilled to see what her brother was gonna d,o while Dipper was wary of what Bill might show people. (‘Is he going to use **magic** or just do _magic_?!’)

Bill brought his eyes back up to his paying audience. "Magic with cards! Magic cards!" the kid enthused out. He spun out the deck in a normal fanning display from his left hand, then closed it. Fanned it out from his left hand again, then closed it. Performed a simple two-handed Sybil Cut, closed it up again.

Then Bill fanned out the cards from his left hand, smacked them with a palm from behind while performing an odd motion… and fanned them out _again_ from his right hand, almost like he was pulling half the deck from the first hand as he did it.

...Except it was two decks worth of cards, when the kid had only pulled _one_ normal deck out of his hat earlier.

Bill didn’t slow down, he didn’t even pause. He flipped each of them closed, and fanned them both out again at the same time. Did it again: fanned and flipped-closed. Did it again, and made an odd sort of ‘click’ with his tongue as he sort of made a flicking motion with his wrists… and fanned them out another whole hand further _on each hand_ , nearly wrist-to-wrist on each side.

The guys watching weren’t impressed. The little kid was staring, transfixed. ...Hell, Stan would be too, if he didn’t get it. Kid was doing that ‘clone’ thing of his on the deck, to make more of them (one to two, then two to four). His cardistry technique was spot on, too. The idiots watching didn’t have any idea how hard what the kid was doing with those cards actually was, especially one-handed; kid was making it look simple, casual almost. Effortless.

Bill flipped the double-pair of two-decks closed again, then shoved them all into one hand, his left.

He did an Anaconda card dribble that kept going and going and going… yeah, of course it did, it was four freaking decks worth of cards and he wasn’t even trying to rush it.

Finally, Bill slapped his now-free left hand (finally empty of cards) against the top of the very thick stack of cards he was holding below. He flipped the cards from his right to left hand, and… splayed the cards again in that common fan. One deck. He flicked it closed again with a wrist flourish, then took one step back, bowed simply (with a hand across his chest), and straightened back up again to... lean back against the pole behind him yet again, just as he had before: head tilted down a bit, shoulders slightly slumped. ...Small splaying motion of the cards out, then in again. Small splaying motion out, then in again -- yeah, the kid was done and waiting for the next payment.

Miz and the child clapped in delight; the child had been staring intensely, watching this display the entire time. A few people in the crowd clapped too, but some of them scoffed. ("What. That’s it?")

"One card trick, two dollars," Bill said quite calmly to the crowd, not moving or looking up from where he was leaning back against the pole. "You got what you paid for."

One of the guys in the crowd walked up to Bill again -- not the same guy as before. "So if we give you another two dollars, you'll do something different?" the guy not-quite challenged Bill.

Bill smiled slightly. "I might," the kid said. "If I feel like it." The smile dropped slightly, then lifted again to something small and… really very devilish. "Sometimes, I even take requests."

(Stan blew out a breath. Yeah. ...Y’know what? He wasn’t gonna stress it unless the kid actually started rearranging other people’s faces.)

"Can you pull a rabbit from that hat o’ yours?" The guy asked, trailing his eyes up and down Bill's slender form. (Stan eyed the guy back in a very different way.)

Bill let out a chittering sort of snicker. "I assure you, good sir," he said, in a fair approximation of Ford’s ‘late high school / post-college’ accent, "Any rabbits that I may or may not have in this hat are surely long-dead."

The crowd laughed a little, assuming it was a joke. Stan wasn't too sure. (Then he remembered the thing about the dead time on the other side and figured that, yeah, it was a joke.) The guy scoffed. "Well, can you pull anything else outta there?"

"I most certainly can," Bill told him, stilling the cards in his hands mid-motion, as he tilted his chin up again. "Why do you ask?" The guy stared down at Bill with an entitled smirk. "I wanna see my money's worth. Do something impressive, magic-gal."

Bill smiled up at the guy with his usual smile. "That’s ancient alien space wizard to you, sonny-boy," Bill said, but he did straighten up away from the pole. "Two _more_ dollars," Bill said. "To see something IMPRESSIVE."

The guy held out the bills and scoffed, "You better wow me." Bill simply smiled, pulled his hat off of his head, and held it out. The guy dropped his two dollars in.

Bill kept the same smile on, though it got slightly more smug.

But instead of putting his hat back on his head immediately, Bill reached into the hat and pulled out… the guy’s two one-dollar bills, _and_ the other two from before. The kid waved them around a bit, just slightly, as he tilted his head to the side slightly and said, "Your money’s worth!" The crowd laughed. The guy colored. Bill flipped the dollars over in his fingers, folding them up twice and slipping them into a back pocket, still maintaining eye contact with the guy standing in front of him.

And before anyone could say or do anything else, Bill flipped his hat around, lifted it up--

\--and brought it down onto the guys head _and kept going_ , straight down to the ground.

(Same motion he’d used on the stuff at the boat, Stan noticed.)

A hush fell over the crowd.

(Ford's eyes widened and he sat up abruptly as he realized what he'd just seen. He hadn’t thought--)

Bill paused for just a moment, before turning his hat sideways and then flipping it over his fingers, end-over-end-over end, as he straightened up from how far he’d had to bend down to do it.

(" _BILL!_ " Ford hissed out, trying to scramble to his feet as he stared in horror at the people out in front of the booth. They were going to--!!)

(Stan leaned back and neatly caught him by the front lapels of his coat, holding him in place.)

Bill slowly, carefully, casually brushed the dust off the lower lip of the hat, which had gotten a little dirty from the sidewalk in front of the booth.

And _then_ he looked up at the crowd.

"Too much?" Bill asked the crowd, almost deadpan. "Well." Then he made a tossing out-and-down motion, as if throwing a glass of water out of a cup to splash it down onto the pavement -- with _his hat_ \-- and there was a tumbling-out-and-down human guy, now sitting down flat on the sidewalk, legs splayed out in front of him, and looking more than a little bit dazed.

(Ford let out his breath in a rush, feeling dizzy almost.)

The crowd was clapping, going absolutely wild. "That was AWESOME!" "How'd you _do_ that?!" "--Here's another $2! Do that to me, too!"

"Haha!" Bill laughed out, smiling again as he put his hat back on top of his head. "Just once per species per day, folks. Don’t want to OVERDO it! HA!" Bill grinned out at the crowd, taking their applause with a bow.

("What…" went the guy sitting on the sidewalk, as his buddies slowly helped him up and away from the stall. "What? What happened?" He looked confused, as his buddies clapped him on the back, congratulating for being a good sport and showing off. "--No, really. What just happened?")

(Ford looked utterly gobsmacked. He glanced down at Stan, who just waved him off. Ford, still jittery, was feeling uneasy as he settled down slowly, lowering himself back down onto the blanket. He’d half-expected… but after seeing the crowd _not_ turning into a raging mob at what had just happened...)

"They think it’s part of the show," Stan grunted out at him. And no one had gotten hurt. That was good. Meant the kid really _was_ following the agreement-type rules with regular non-Zodiac people -- which was exactly how Stan wanted it.

Ford was still shivering in place a bit, because... "He could have kept that man in there forever," Ford told his brother lowly, feeling sick. And they likely would have been hard-pressed to convince Bill otherwise. (...No, more likely, they simply would not have been able to force the demon to release the man if Bill had decided he’d felt otherwise, and was disinclined to let him go.)

"Well, he didn't. --It's fine, Ford." Stan told him. "Guy wasn’t even hurt." Stan turned back to the outside of the booth, to see…

...that the kid was still playing it up for the crowd as they started throwing more of their money at him. He glanced over at Miz, who was jumping in place and squealing, "YOU'RE SO COOL!!" and that made Stan let out a quiet chuckle. (He had a feeling he would be seeing her try the hat trick later, like she'd done with the whole trying to learn how to snap her fingers thing, heh. ...Huh. Probably should keep an eye out for that, actually, make her practice on not-humans first, and definitely _not_ his brother or the kids.)

Stan settled back in his chair. Huh. ...Well, that had taught him two things. One: kid had a sense of timing. That had all been pretty spot on, there. Two: kid was _very_ exact with his words and wordplay, and not just with his Zodiac. He’d caught that bit with the ‘see money’s worth’ a little bit before the kid had pulled it off, from the gleam in the kid’s eyes. (Kid had also pulled it off in a way that the rube hadn't actually been the one to see his money's worth of _magic_ trick; only _everybody else_ had. And the guy had been unable to do a thing about it. _That_ didn't get by Stan, either.)

The other thing was that the kid had had no problem with the first guy, who had seemed to treat him with... well, not actual _respect_ really. But the first guy had at least made the whole thing a simple business transaction, instead of making some big deal out of it, or trying to taunt or challenge the kid. And the kid had acted on the level with the guy, for what the kid had thought was reasonable and on the level for that amount of buy-in, as far as Stan could tell.

The other-other thing was that the kid _didn’t_ seem to have a problem with kids. Stan hadn’t really considered that before, that the kid actually seemed to be _more_ on the level with the kids than the adults, and more willing to be a bit more flexible with them -- or at least take a lot more verbal flak from a kid than he would from somebody older... (Maybe he should be working with the niblings a bit more, on that. Though the kid already talked to the niblings almost too much as it was, and a lot of times way more than they could handle...)

And the final thing was that the no-fights thing _was_ working. A month ago, the kid would’ve blown away that second guy into dust and ash and a wide bloody crater without a second thought -- either for getting up in his face like that, for effectively insulting him, _or_ for the insulting challenges to perform a ‘trick’ for him -- Stan was pretty sure. And today? That had been three strikes in a row, not just one of them.

But after more than a few things with the kids, and then Melody, Stan had been pretty sure that Bill could handle a little random heckling by this point. _And he had._ (The kid had still 'gotten even’ with the guy, but the kid in a way that nobody had gotten hurt. If Stan had thought otherwise, he would have practically forced the kid into the back of the stall to sit down with Ford, and try to stay out of trouble back there, instead of doing anything out in front of a crowd -- let alone anything with an audience that might have a 50-50 shot of either heckling the kid or cheering him on.)

Stan had let the kid pick his own poison with what he wanted to do at the booth, and the kid _had_ picked something he seemed comfortable handling, Stan was pretty sure. (It sure looked like he had, anyway.)

Stan still kept a close eye on the crowd for the kid, though. He noted when they started to slow down with the money they were putting out, and were just about to reach that tipping point where they might start grumbling about when they would get what they were paying for.

And then Stan stood up and stepped in.

"Looks like you’ve got yourself enough for a sidewalk show, there, kid," Stan called out to Bill from behind the table in the booth -- and for the benefit of the audience. (It also let it seem like less of a choice to the crowd -- that the kid had a manager and a set act. With the crowd not thinking that the kid wasn’t just picking and choosing what he wanted to do for himself in the moment, or when, they wouldn’t think of complaining about the content and the time versus the money they paid out, later.)

"Magic don’t last forever, though," Stan added, maintaining the ‘manager’ role. "There’ll be a twenty minute break after that." He didn’t want the kid getting overstimulated, or too tired.

He got a glance back at him from the kid, an assessing one… and then a slight nod. (Yeah, wasn’t meant to be an insult, he was just tryin’ to make sure the kid didn’t get overworked or pushed around. Give the crowd a chance to disperse, maybe calm down a bit between acts. Otherwise, the kid would just have to keep going bigger and better each time, and…)

(...Stan was pretty sure that was how you ended up with another Weirdmageddon. He had half-a-bet with himself going, that half the reason the kid had gone so big and large was because the kid had had all his demon-’friends’ there, cheering him on, needing to be impressed...)

The audience settled in, eager to see more, the gathering crowd pulled in even more people... and a few even wandered over to look over Miz's wares. She kept trying to engage with the customers, but Stan could see that she was clearly distracted. Stan chuckled and got up from his chair.

"Hey, I'll take over here, go watch the show," Stan told her. (Wasn’t no skin off of his nose -- there was no way his readings were gonna be able to compete with whatever the kid was gonna set up next, if it was anything like what’d he’d just done -- hell, with the way the crowd was going, it’d be too loud for it, anyway.) Miz gave him a bright grin before going around the booth so she could stand closer to her brother for the upcoming show.

Stan finished with Miz’s latest batch of customers, just as Bill looked like he was done getting warmed up (doing exaggerated stretching exercises -- geez kid, hamming it up much?). So when his brother started to get up from the blanket again, Stan saw it and caught him by the coat again, letting out a tired sigh.

"Ford, just… lie back down and _try_ and close your eyes and keep ‘em closed, yeah?" Stan told his brother, pushing him backwards slightly as Ford started to shift forward, with a hand towards his gun. "I’m watchin’ the kid. --Ain’t like you’ll be quick enough to stop him from anything, even if he does pull somethin’," he told him. "You couldn’t for the guy and the hat." He got an aggrieved look from his brother for that one, and a protest. But Stan could be stubborn too, and soon enough Ford was dropping back down to not just a seated posture, but a flat and prone one again... even if he was still sending tired glares Stan’s way, in-between every long blink.

Stan met and returned each and every one of those glares with a long stare back, until Stan stopped watching him when the show began.

...And the kid sure knew how to put on a spectacle. Kid was a _lot_ more talkative this time, too, engaging directly with the audience as he went; makin’ eye contact with people, speaking out in ways that made people have that knee-jerk reaction to answer right back, the whole nine yards. --First thing the kid did was kick himself up into the air, to float around lazily at about shoulder-level, into the crowd and around a few people, with a patter of distracting talk, then touch down and spin in place to set off a few figurative ‘fireworks’ with spans of knotted colored scarves in all directions -- not handkerchiefs -- and then pulled them all back in and wrapped them up around in each other with a quick two flicks of the wrist... to use them as a _skipping_ rope as he traversed the crowd and ended up back in front of the booth again.

It only got more strange and weird and… wonderful?... from there. At least, the crowd seemed to be enjoying it -- they were _definitely_ thinking it ‘wonderful’ from the clearly enraptured looks a lot of them seemed to be getting, watching the kid do his thing, on-again off-again there. Nothing ended up too over-the-top or flashy, though, which Stan found interesting. The kid used a lot of props, too -- mostly pulled from his hat, though he covered the motions with a ‘head scratch’ or a shaking head and a hand to his forehead in the setup for the next trick or the following one a lot. There were matches and matchsticks and blue fire, paper into quickly-folded butterflies that actually flew -- or, well, glided around on the air by themselves, kinda like smaller paper airplanes, to be caught by some of the grinning crowd -- and odd-looking swatches on cloth in colors that Stan didn’t have a name for that shifted in pattern by themselves, made of weird fabrics (that probably came from a pocket and disappeared _back_ into a pocket afterwards, if Mabel’s lack of surprise at seeing them was any kind of cheating hint to the kid having had them on him before he’d had his hat back)... and the swatches weren’t just something to be shown off -- Bill used them for _juggling_ , of all things, and left floating in the air around him almost like clouds, as _he_ walked around them in turn.

And that was just the first five minutes.

Eventually, even Dipper moved up to the front -- to sit in Stan’s vacated chair -- and settled in at the table to just enjoy the show. Stan glimpsed Mabel in the crowd as well. And Miz was… practically vibrating in place in her excitement where she was standing out there. Stan was a little worried when he spotted the sand near her feet shifting in small waves, like they were ripples in a pond, but no one was paying any attention to what was happening except him. It looked harmless, and nobody was standing close enough to her that it could be a problem, but Stan still sighed and scratched a cheek. He didn't think she was doing what she was doing on purpose, but it was yet another thing that went in the tally box of ‘not actually in control of her own powers’, that maybe meant that it wasn’t all that safe for her to be anywhere alone with the kids. (It made him think of the kid, and how the kid always talked and talked and talked about control-control-control. ...And that was the gulf of difference there between the kid and Miz, who talked like her powers were a separate thing from her, weird and wild and maybe way more out of control even when she wasn’t panicking, than she really wanted to admit.)

Stan turned to look back over his shoulder at Ford, who he was sure was probably stifling an apoplectic fit with his own pillow by this point at what both Bill and Miz were doing… and realized that his brother wasn’t all that angry; Ford was more than half-asleep.

And Stan frowned as he realized that his brother’s half-closed eyes were, at each blink, dropping lower and lower, and staying closed longer and longer, _the more that Bill talked out there_ , at the kid’s a not-too-loud and steady patter of words, a non-stop conversation that was all sponge-edged. He frowned as he realized that Ford, from the way he was slowly relaxing, was acting like those words were almost a warm blanket, slowly settling down and around and over him.

When Ford’s eyes closed completely, and they stayed closed, and he fully relaxed, Stan pulled in a long slow breath and turned back to the table, and looked out at all the customers.

(And he felt like, for the first time, that he’d maybe finally caught the tail-end of what Ford had _meant_ when he’d said that he’d thought Bill had been his friend. ...That Ford had not just thought of Bill as somebody who he could talk to, or somebody that wouldn’t get nasty at Ford about his hands for no real reason, or somebody that Ford thought was intelligent enough to have a nerdy conversation with -- no, not just that. But that Bill was also somebody that maybe, just maybe, Ford had felt _relaxed_ around. --Maybe not safe, exactly? Or calm. Ford had never really been one for either of those two things. But… maybe he’d thought that Bill was somebody he could relax around. Somebody who he’d thought had had his _back_.)

(It must have been one hell of a surprise when Bill had _stabbed_ him in the back. Ford must’ve looked down, confused, wondering why everything hurt so much… staring down at that figurative knife and all that blood he was bleeding out in absolute disbelief, and… his brother had never even seen it coming, had he. He'd been... _betrayed_.)

Stan pulled in a breath, long and slow, and he let it out again, long and slow.

Kid was still doing his magic show out there. Dipper and Mabel and the crowd and Miz were all watching.

Somebody else walked up to the table, interested in the earrings. Stan started walking them through it.

But Stan’s mind was really elsewhere, on his brother sleeping in the back of the booth behind him. ...Because it wasn’t like Stan hadn’t noticed that the only nights he knew for sure that Ford hadn’t had nightmares since the triangle demon had been back, were when Ford had fallen asleep right next to Bill, holding onto him, and… just now, listening to the kid talk and talk and talk.

Stan pulled in another of those long, slow breaths, and glanced over his shoulder back at Ford. And... Ford looked like he was sleeping like a rock. He wasn’t just relaxed; he was _smiling_ in his sleep. (Not a _lot_ , just a little bit, but… shit.)

And Stan wasn’t sure how to fix this. He wasn’t even sure how this was a thing.

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My AN:**  
>  Mizuuma's AN is a little more personal. If you want to see it, [go to Miz's fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/43744150#chapter_89_endnotes).
> 
> [Chapter 90](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/44205454) is an interlude chapter ("Chapter 79.5") back in MizBill's home dimensional set.


	11. Chapter 80: Truth is a tattletale with no friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> The more things break, the more they stay the same...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 91 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/44417407). It was first posted on May 6, 2019.

\-----

"Can we buy ice cream?" Miz asked after Bill’s magic show ended, the crowd dispersed, and she trotted back behind the table into the booth, to sit down on her bean bag chair. Stan finished counting out the money from his sales of her stuff, as Bill followed her into the back at an almost sedate pace. (Stan eyed him. Was the kid tired?)

"Sure, Miz. You've made plenty," Stan told Miz. What with the crowd from the show taking that long to disperse, all jazzed up by the end of it, he’d already been able to sell a decent amount of her jewelry so far; maybe about half? It was her money; he sure as hell wasn’t going to try to (get away with trying to) steal it from her. (Definitely not with the kid watching him, and mirroring back at him a hell of a lot of what he saw him do. Plus, dragon-lady.) Stan handed Miz the stack of money and watched as she pulled out some bills to hand back to him. Huh. She wasn’t treating it as a one-time thing, then.

"What's the rate for my commission anyway?" Stan asked, as he took the money from her. (Hey, he wasn't gonna turn down ‘free’ money. --Besides, he'd earned it. His selling skills weren't nothin’ to sneeze at.)

"30%, more or less." Miz shrugged. (...Yeah, that sounded about right to Stan for this kinda thing.) He immediately folded the cash up and put it in a separate pocket to maybe hand to the kid later, with the previous ‘commission payment’ he’d gotten from her before.

(Stan explicitly did _not_ count the bills out in front of her; either she’d lied or she hadn’t, done the math right or screwed it up. Either way, counting it out right in front of her would be rude at best -- and a signal of expectation of bad faith and a lack of trust at worst -- when he’d just got done counting the stack he’d just handed her, to know how much ‘about 30%’ of it was. He could check it later, not right in front of her, to be sure he knew what he had to (worst-case) fall back on. --And not say anything about it, even if she _had_ ‘short-changed’ him. Because the level of greed that would imply, with him not expectin’ to get paid a commission in the first place, would just be a different kind of test. ...Though he would note that for later, if that was a thing. He didn’t think so, though. He had a feeling that she’d probably short-changed herself, the other way around, the way she’d said what she had said.)

While Stan was handling the money, Miz glanced over at Mabel and Dipper. "Do you guys want ice cream?" Miz asked.

Mabel sat up with a huge grin and immediately said, "HECK yeah!" Dipper also looked up from his notebook, but shrugged noncommittally.

Miz glanced back at Stan before getting up. "Do you want ice cream?" she asked him, and Stan raised an eyebrow at that. "What? Me?"

"There's peanut brittle there," Miz told him. Stan blinked. Right. That ‘all-seeing eye’ thing. Of course she'd look him up, the way the kid had, to know that he liked that.

That said… Stan shrugged. "I can buy my own," he told her. He glanced over at Mabel. "Ford tell you what to avoid to keep from panicking Miz?" he asked her. He glanced back at Dipper, too.

They both looked at him, looked at each other, then back to him, shaking their heads.

...Yeah, Ford hadn’t looked in good enough shape earlier to have said anything while he’d been handling the kid, and they hadn’t really gotten a chance to tell the kids earlier (...or needed to, what with them both being right there to stop anything they needed to, on the spot).

"No weird magic-looking circles," Stan started off with. "Don’t want her thinking we’re trying to bind her if she only gets a glance at it. No pushing her into cars -- and don’t go into buses, or ice cream trucks, or whatever yourself," Stan added, "Since she won’t be comfortable followin’ you in there, if something happens," Stan told Mabel, who looked slightly abashed. (So did Dipper. His sister wasn’t the only one of them who got a bit excited sometimes. Stan didn’t bother to hammer it in with Dipper just then, since it was Mabel who was planning on running off with her.)

"Try to stay on the sidewalks," Stan added with a sigh, "Y’know, all the usual kinda junk about stayin’ outta the middle of the street, lookin’ both ways if you gotta cross somewhere and all that." Stan grimaced. "No grabbing her by the wrists, or trying to wrestle her down to the ground or holding her down against nothin’. --Hand-holding’s fine, but don’t just go blindly grabbing at her, or shoving her around, or trying to lie down on top of her. Ask first, and no means no. Think of the kid, and how he’d react if you did any of that kind of roughhousing stuff you and your brother like to do, to him without asking," Stan added, and Mabel blushed. "She probably won’t like most of that stuff either. And don’t go tryin’ to startle or scare her with big loud ‘boo!’s or nothin’, and that’s about it. Got it?" he asked the two of them.

""Yes, Grunkle Stan,"" Dipper and Mabel said dutifully.

"Good," said Stan, then he gave Mabel a smile. "Well, go on, have fun," he grumbled out at her, making a shooing motion with his hand at her. (He didn’t quite wipe away the smile quickly enough to look grumpy again before he finished talking, though.)

While Bill remained silent at all this, Miz nodded at his handling of the situation (though she did look vaguely embarrassed still). Mabel, on the other hand, whooped in happiness at having been ‘released’ to go get ice cream. Miz and Mabel ran off to the ice cream truck parked beside the beach shortly thereafter -- well within sight and not too far away, so Stan didn’t worry too much about the ‘lack of supervision’ (thanks, Ford). Stan could see Mabel jumping around excitedly as she pointed at different things on the menu.

Stan let out an old man sigh (ugh, he was gettin’ old, as he got up and poked his head out of the booth for a moment. He checked the time by the big clock farther down the boardwalk, then let out another sigh. It was past noon now. He glanced up as he made his way back in. The sun was warm overhead, even though it was just the beginning of spring, in early April, and Stan was glad their booth had a canvas ‘roof’, creating its own shade.

Stan looked over to check on the kid. Bill was sitting on the floor inside of the booth -- at the far end away from Ford, Stan noticed -- the kid was on his first real ‘break’ of the day, not just leaning himself up against that pole out there at the front, and the kid hadn’t been doing much of anything for awhile now. The kid was sitting with his knees up, back against the side of the booth, eyes closed and arms crossed and _very_ much in the lowest of his low-energy modes. The deck of cards was sitting on the tabletop just above and next to the kid (near the tarot deck, actually) and the demon seemed... peaceful, almost.

Stan sighed again, looking at this, and knew that they should all get lunch soon, not "just" ice cream to tide over a couple of them. He scanned the beach, knowing what he was looking for, and finally spotted the usual hot dog cart.

"Oi, Dipper, you hungry?" Stan asked, leaning back in his chair (now moved behind the jewelry display), tossing an elbow over the back of it, to address his great nephew.

Dipper looked up and nodded. Stan reached into his pocket for his tarot reading earnings and handed him some bills. "Go get everyone some hot dogs," he told Dipper, nodding over at the hot dog cart. "We’ve still got water in the cooler."

Once Dipper was on his way, Stan glanced over at Bill. "Do you wanna eat and drink anything, kid?" It wasn’t a rhetorical question -- of course the kid didn’t want to ‘consume’ anything. So Stan said it like the statement that it was, that the kid _should_ eat something now, and get some more water in him, and by this point the kid damn well knew it. Stan briefly wondered if he should talk to Miz about getting Bill to eat more. She seemed to like eating stuff well enough.

Stan was pretty sure that the kid wouldn’t go for the hot dogs; they’d had them at the Shack a few times, and Bill hadn’t so much as given the food an interested glance, more of a flat look and a stifled grimace. They had another box of crackers in the crate Bill had in his hat, still. But it had never really sat right with Stan that the kid only ate crackers, charred toast -- and salad, now -- and water or tea, and barely enough of any of it to make up for whatever energy he’d just got done burning throughout the day. The kid just didn’t eat enough; Stan was pretty damn sure that the kid was literally just one missed meal away from collapsing on a regular basis; he had a running tally of the number of times the kid collapsed from physical exhaustion going in his head, and he knew how much the kid did and didn’t eat, and... hell, was the kid even getting enough of those _nutrients_ or whatever? Stan considered bringing it up with Miz, because he figured if it was a stubborn problem, she’d probably be able to poke her brother into eating more.

Thing was, Stan wasn’t so sure it was just a stubborn problem, yet.

"You got the crackers in your hat, or you empty out the other crate for the chair?" Stan asked. "And mind bringing out the cooler?"

Bill raised his head slightly and opened his eyes the barest of slits to look over at Stan. "I have the crackers in my hat; I emptied out the other crate, yes. And yes." Stan nodded at him, then sat back in his chair as he watched Bill pull his hat off of his own head almost in slow-motion, to pull out a box he knew had come from one of the crates on the boat, and set it down on the floor next to him, as well as the cooler. ...Well, at least that was something; kid wasn’t gonna give him guff like he usually did this time. (Hadn’t given him much guff on the boat, either, come to think of it. Hell. Maybe the thing with the forest and Ford had finally kicked the kid upside the head the way he’d needed it to. ...Unless the kid thought ‘being helpful’ included not arguing at him over eating and drinking stuff on a regular basis.)

Stan leaned back in his chair, watching as Bill put his hat back on his head and then pulled out a water bottle from the cooler for both Stan and himself. Stan cracked open his own water bottle, and watched as Bill got down to cracking open the cracker box, to get at the crackers inside.

And, at watching the kid, Stan decided he’d better start to crack down on trying to figure out this eating problem of the kid’s all over again. Because right now, all Stan had to work with were toast, tea, crackers... and salad when the kid got hungry enough. Though the kid didn't seem to mind the salad much, either. ...Actually, he’d actually seemed to hate it less than the other stuff. At least the salad they’d had that one night. Stan didn’t usually make fresh veggie stuff like that, because he wasn’t used to it; he hadn’t been able to leave the Shack himself enough on the regular to make that many grocery trips to have a lot of the stuff around, anyway. It went bad easy if it didn’t get used and eaten real quick, and he didn’t really like the stuff much himself.

Stan thought about a couple places nearby that had salads; he knew there were a few restaurants nearby he could get one from. But… they’d had salad stuff as part of some of the lunch and dinner meals before that plenty of times, and the kid hadn’t had any of that -- hadn’t even so much as glanced at any of it, barely. So what was all that different there?

Well, Dipper was away, Mabel wasn’t there to hound either of them, and Ford was… still asleep. This was probably the best time he was gonna get to have this conversation with the kid ( _again_ , for what it was worth). And hey, maybe he’d manage to hit just the right set of words this time, kind of like the ‘I want **you** ’ thing had gone?

"Hey, kid." Bill paused in what he was doing and looked over at him. "There any kinda food you'll eat besides burnt toast and crackers?" Stan brought up to start with, just to get the normal ask out of the way (already knowing that that wouldn’t be enough). "You didn't mind that salad, right?" Bill looked away.

"That salad was barely edible," the kid told him, and it left Stan blinking, as the kid looked down and went back to working at ‘ _carefully_ ’ tearing the plastic packaging open inside the cardboard box without ending up with crackers everywhere. (Kid had lost his temper a few times real early-on and learned better on _that_ one _real_ quick.)

Huh. Stan gave the kid a long look, because he’d _never_ gotten an ‘actually (barely) edible’ out of the kid on anything, before. The other things he ate were ‘almost’ edible ‘at best’. "So… you’ll eat fruits and veggies on their own?" Stan asked him next.

"Define ‘fruits and veggies’," was what he got out of the kid next, and... that wasn’t a ‘no’. Huh.

"Same stuff that was in that ‘barely edible’ salad," Stan said next, feeling almost curious now. "Lettuce, bananas, tomatoes, carrots, watermelons, strawberries, blueberries, honeydew, pineapples… honey; that stuff." Melody had gotten that stuff from the store for the new salad (keeping the melons separate from the new bowl they'd sent upstairs to the kid and Miz); Stan was pretty sure the same stuff had been in the old one, except maybe the honey.

Bill stopped what he was doing as Stan talked (focusing on what he was saying?), but didn’t look up at him. And the kid made a slight face at the mention of 'honey’, but none of the rest, Stan noticed. (...Well, the honey _had_ been on the side as some sort of… _’self-serve’_ sort of thing, not mixed into the salad itself. Because if they _had_ tried to mix it in, Mabel just would’ve drenched the whole thing to dripping with the stuff and made it inedible for the rest of them -- except _maybe_ Ford with his sweet tooth. So that probably explained why the kid had ate pretty much the whole thing a couple nights ago, when the kid had just gotten done practically starving himself. No honey-dressing stuff on it, and the kid had been okay with the rest.)

"...Define ‘on their own’," was what he got out of the kid next.

Stan shifted in his chair. Huh. Kid was asking after fruits and veggies together versus separate? Was there a difference? Stan frowned slightly, thinking about the best way to put this. And then he got an idea.

So he tried something a little different, that he hadn’t actually tried when talking food with the kid, yet. ...Mostly because he’d been focusing on making sure the kid ate _anything at all_ , not _what_ the kid ate. Instead of continuing on with trying to ask after ingredients and foods the kid _might_ eat, Stan asked instead:

"What would make that salad you ate as ‘inedible’ as all the other salads we’ve had before that, that you didn’t eat, kid?"

The kid promptly replied, "Mushrooms; salad dressing; added sugar; added salt," and when it registered, it made Stan want to punch something.

Stan pulled in a slow breath, and let it out again. Mabel liked making stuff, and she was the one who usually pushed for the greens for mealtimes. But that _also_ meant that she usually added a bunch of stuff like gummy bears and sugar-glitter and a lot of other junk into the mix when she helped out. Melody had made that salad herself the first time, and she’d tried to keep Mabel to the strict recipe that second time when Ford hadn’t been feeling well, but she hadn’t, and...

They’d made that salad for the kid and Miz both, with the burnt toast as a backup for the kid in case the salad had been a fluke. Had the kid eaten any of the salad? ...Or had he given it all to his kid sister, who’d _still_ been ravenous later?

(Miz HAD in fact, tried to make Bill eat some of the plain fruits and veggies in the salad that time in the attic, worrying over how thin he was. Bill hadn’t eaten it that time, though, because the honey-glaze _had_ been added to it, courtesy of an overzealous and over-helpful Mabel. But he and Miz had had a conversation about it, and Miz now knew what Bill would and wouldn’t eat, and why. Miz was keeping this in mind for when she was allowed to use the kitchen back home. Stan and Miz were both independently scheming ways to make Bill eat more. --And if Stan had known, he’d probably have given himself another pat on the back for encouraging this ‘siblings’ idea; it was doing great for the kid, and in turn making things a lot easier for _him_... most of the time.)

But even if Bill had eaten that particular salad again that time, that still didn’t really explain… "We’ve had salad a couple times without any dressing or junk," Stan pointed out. Had the kid just not known?

But he just got the kid looking up at him finally, to say, "Vinegar."

...And Stan didn’t get it. "Vinegar?" The kid looked a little tired, as he looked away from him and shoved a hand into the cracker box.

"It smelled like vinegar." The kid wrinkled his nose at this -- yeah, Stan knew the kid didn’t like ‘smelling’.

And Stan had to think about that one for a bit, until he remembered… yeah, they usually tossed the stuff with at least _something_ to make it a little interesting, some kind of oil and vinegar ‘vinaigrette’ thing that Mabel had done… and probably added sugar to, too. (Hell.) Okay. So even really light stuff like that counted as salad dressing for the kid?

"What’s wrong with vinegar?" Stan asked the kid, kind of confused still, and the kid let out something of a sigh.

"It’s made using fungi," the kid told him, before popping a cracker in his mouth.

"Fungi," Stan repeated.

The kid nodded as he chewed, then finished swallowing and said, "Fungi. Commonly known as mushrooms. I’m not eating them."

Stan back in his chair. "But you’ll eat fruits and vegetables." He got a nod out of the kid. Okay, next question: "You know about the ingredients that are used to make this stuff?" Stan asked, nodding a head towards the cracker box. He got a nod from the kid.

"What ingredients in that and the toast are making that stuff less than ‘barely edible’ for you?" Stan asked next, wondering if he’d actually get an answer out of the kid for that one, too. (Before this, he’d usually gotten long looks and silences, or some change of subject, or just an argument about needing to eat at all. Usually the last one, and that always derailed everything. But this time around, the kid had actually answered him on some stuff, on the whole ‘what’s making the salad inedible’ thing. And the kid had answered him _right away_ , even. Actually getting some damn answers out of the kid on this stuff for once was... new.)

"Vinegar, yeast, added sugar, added salt for the bread; added sugar and added salt for the crackers," were what Bill listed off as making toast inedible, as the kid tossed another cracker in his mouth.

Stan stared at the kid as he ate the cracker.

"What ingredients in pancakes make it less than ‘barely edible’ for you," Stan asked next, watching the kid carefully. His bullshit meter wasn’t going off, but...

"Eggs, milk, butter, added sugar, added salt," was what the kid told him, and Stan felt frustrated as he said, "Kid, that’s damn near everything but the flour." Worse, that got him back a nod and a "Yes," from the kid.

Stan pulled in a breath and let it out again. "Why didn’t you eat any of the fish when we were on the boat?" Stan said next, and the kid replied, "Meat." Stan stared at him and damn near started laughing, because… _the hell?!_ Kid was some kinda vegan or something? The ‘big bad demon-triangle’ wouldn't eat-- _Seriously?_

"Okay," said Stan with half a smile going, because sure, he’d play this game and see how it played out -- why not? Not like fruits and veggies were all that expensive. --Hey, they were less expensive than meat, even. Not like Stan couldn’t handle this easily enough. Kid wasn’t asking for champagne and caviar here -- and hey, probably wouldn’t ever neither, because alcohol meant _yeast_ and caviar was _eggs_ from _fish_ , hell. "Kid. Maybe you could, y’know, tell me what kinda ingredients you’d eat if we got them straight from the store?"

The kid didn’t even eye him this time. He just said: "Plants; no fungi."

Stan let out a long breath. Hell, this was an actual thing for the kid? Hell. "Okay. So… fruits, veggies, and… nuts? Straight up unsalted or whatever nuts," he asked the kid, and he got a nod. "And maybe veggie oils?" not butter, for whatever weird demon reason, and he got another nod. "And junk like soy-stuff?" That got him another yes-nod from the kid as he kept listing things off. "Fruit juice?" Kid made a face and shook his head. "Why not fruit juice?" "--Added sugar," the kid began and Stan nodded and waved him off. Okay. ‘From the store’, right. So they’d need to make that themselves if they were gonna do fruit juice, then... or check the labels and have to go for something more expensive if they wanted the kid to actually drink it, geez.

"Kid, are you lactose intolerant or somethin’?" Stan asked next, wondering why milk and eggs and all that junk was out. "You allergic to some of this stuff?" Stan added, remembering how Melody had said that Miz had said she was. (Though the younger demon apparently liked the taste of it enough that she was fine with risking a stomach ache to continue eating the stuff... But ice cream was about half-and-half frozen milk _and_ added sugar, two things that were on the kid’s ‘inedible-making’ list.) If the kid was lactose intolerant, then maybe that explained why Miz hadn't offered to get Bill any ice cream, though, when she’d even asked Stan himself if he’d wanted some. ...That didn’t explain the no-meat and no-eggs thing the kid had going on, though.

But the kid just shook his head at him. Stan frowned. The kid _wasn’t_ lactose intolerant like Miz? "Then why don’t you--" _want to eat it_ , Stan was about to ask the kid, but Stan stopped himself, when he glanced over and saw the girls headed back their way. He knew he didn’t have time to get the wording right on what he really wanted to ask the kid, there; he knew it'd take a few tries. (The kid ate burned toast, but not bread. So if Stan had to guess, the kid probably _could_ eat more than he was saying that he... wanted to?) But that could wait; the thing Stan needed to know _right now_ was-- "Why didn’t you just tell me all this before, kid?" he asked Bill.

And Bill looked him straight in the eye and said, "Because if I’d told you what I didn’t want to eat, then you would have known what I didn’t want to eat."

Stan felt a slight chill go down his spine.

And then Stan realized every last implication of that sentence and felt himself go hot, instead.

Stan almost told the kid off right then and there -- that he wasn’t gonna force the kid to eat something if there was a _reason_ that he wouldn’t eat it; wasn’t like the kid didn’t do stuff for a reason, usually and pretty much always, even if it took the kid awhile to explain it to Stan in a way that made sense to him. And the kid wasn't a picky eater exactly, definitely wasn’t some kinda food snob, so even if the kid _didn’t_ have a "good" reason for it…

... _so what_ if the kid just ate what he ate?The kid obviously thought (for whatever reason) that most of what they all ate was literal _garbage_ , sure. --Even if the kid didn't try to stop them from eating the stuff themselves, he still made it pretty clear exactly how he felt about it when asked about it. And so far on anything that Stan talked about the kid with, the kid has _never_ got reactions _that_ strong on _anything_ when it wasn’t something the kid considered _important_ \--

(And if it was _that important_ to the kid, Stan wasn’t going to just _ignore_ \--!!)

\--But Stan had to push it all back down and stow it, shelve the entire conversation, as the girls came in close, almost back to the booth, with Dipper catching up to them with his arms full of stacked paper cartons of hotdogs. (And it was easier for him to do, once it occurred to Stan that maybe the kid hadn’t meant just _him_ with that ‘you’. He was still fighting to get enough cred with the kid, to get the kid to believe that the kid could talk with him about stuff without him getting all ‘arbitrary’ and ‘stupid’. The very _last_ thing he needed right now was the kids overhearing any of this and telling Ford--)

And Stan’s thoughts ground to a halt when he turned towards the girls and saw _what_ they had each brought back with them. And then he stared, because… Yeah, okay. He was **certain** that Miz had to be using magic to hold those ice-cream cones together, because there were _ten scoops_ of ice cream on each of ‘em.

"--Mabel, you can't eat all that, you're going to make yourself sick," Stan deadpanned.

Mabel just waved him off with a bright smile, like she usually did when she was eating something ridiculously sugary in crazy quantities that would make most people sick (and sometimes even herself). "It's fine, Grunkle Stan! Some of this is for Dipper or you and Grunkle Ford if he wants any!" Stan gave her a surprised look; Mabel shared sometimes, but sharing with three other people was considerate, even for her.

"I'm not waking him up, now that he's finally sleeping," Stan put out there. Ford had a sweet tooth sure, but making sure Ford got a decent amount of sleep was a lot more important right now.

Mabel peered inside the booth, past him, to glance over at Ford and... nodded. "He can have some when he wakes up?" Mabel said hopefully. It was mostly a question.

"And how's he gonna eat it when it’s melted first?" Stan asked her, feeling amused. Wasn’t like it was all that cold out, and they didn’t have a freezer, even if the kid might be able to whip one up for her if Stan asked.

Mabel grinned. "It won't melt unless somebody _eats_ it!" Stan glanced over at Dipper, about to give an ‘are you hearing this?’ to her twin, to let him take it and run with it. But Dipper wasn’t looking at his sister, and Stan followed his gaze to look at... Miz, who was just standing almost sedately at the front of the booth with Mabel, licking at her ice cream.

Bill stood up abruptly in the next moment, walking towards the table, and Stan watched as the kid lifted the flip-up counter to allow access to the back area of the booth. "Sit down," the kid told her.

Stan cocked his head and looked at this, as Miz walked into the ‘back’ and over to sit down on her beanbag chair, while Mabel trotted (and Dipper walked) into the booth behind her. Huh. Bill had sounded almost… _scolding?_

Stan watched Miz more closely, trying to figure out what was up. She just… kept on eating her ice cream, and Stan didn't see what the problem was, exactly. But the kid was still staring at her.

Stan shook his head, let out a sigh and a groan as he got up, and helped Dipper set down the stack of hotdogs in his arms down onto the booth’s table.

"Should you be eating that?" he listened to the kid ask his little sister. He glanced over to see Miz shrug at the kid.

"I like chocolate. And I'm calm right now. I'd probably just… just fall asleep." And then Miz swayed slightly, settling back into her bean bag heavily all of a sudden. Stan blinked. What?

Then, Miz started hiccuping. Stan blinked and stared, expression growing more and more incredulous as Miz slumped over, after having devoured her unnaturally tall ice cream cone in record time. She was licking her lips and making mumbling sounds, seeming to be in a daze. Stan looked over at Bill who was watching his little sister with an almost exasperated expression.

"...Kid?" Stan asked slowly, because what the heck was going on? Bill's shoulders slumped and flattened out slightly; the kid looked irritated.

"Chocolate," the kid muttered out. Stan felt more confused but then Dipper groaned as well.

"Seriously?!" the teenager complained, glaring at the dragon-lady, who was hiccuping softly while giggling. When Dipper noticed Mabel and Stan's still-confused expressions, he sighed and explained: "Some species of paranormal creatures get drunk off of chocolate."

That got Stan standing up straight and paying a hell of a lot more attention to her, because a not-drunk Miz was hell on his twin to begin with… what would a drunk one with _even less_ inhibitions be like?! ...But Miz appeared calmer and kind of docile, now. She was humming in between her hiccups, stretching lazily. (Stan let out a slow breath.) Okay. So she was a happy-drunk, not an angry-drunk. ...Probably. Stan wasn’t gonna risk it; he’d wake up his brother and have him go back to the boat if he had to.

...Good thing the kid was on his side, and even looked like he might back him up on his own on this one. Stan turned to Bill.

"Is this safe?" he asked Bill grimly, point-blank. (Damnit, he couldn’t keep tripping over junk like this! What, did he have to ask after every last thing that got the dragon lady panicky or **drunk** or _unable to control herself_ somehow? _Everything_ that might have her thinking impaired? Every last thing that might be a problem here? Really?? -- _Why hadn’t the kid said anything about this earlier?_ )

"She's calm. Her headband is on. She's lying down," Bill listed off. Stan closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. Okay. Okay. So it was fine. He’d just gotten himself all worked up over-- "I'm here to put out any fires; I can handle anything she does if she loses control." _...Great._ Stan rubbed a hand over his face.

"Did she know chocolate would do this to her?" Stan asked the kid next, frowning deeply.

"She just found out it did a few days ago," Bill confirmed. "She said altering the chemicals to stop the effect makes it taste 'not as good’."

_Right._ Stan had a pretty bad feeling about having the kids anywhere near a demon who didn't have full control of her powers when drunk. ...Then again, the kid had a pretty strict definition of ‘full control’ going. On the flip-side, if Miz was a happy-drunk, she’d probably think a _hell_ of a lot more stuff was _hilarious_ than usual -- that even more stuff that was _definitely_ **not** a good idea was actually a good idea or might be really funny or fun to do instead. Like _most_ drunk people usually got. _How was he supposed to know_ what she’d do, and how dangerous she’d get (to try to keep her from drinking alcohol or eating any chocolate in the first place!), when figuring that out would--

...except he didn’t need to risk the kids safety any more to figure it out. Because he _did_ already know, at least a little, what Miz was likely to do, Stan realized -- because he’d actually seen this before. Stan frowned as he remembered what had happened the _last_ time she’d showed up in their dimension before this -- when she’d had that friend of hers with her, and the two of them had gotten drunk off their asses on chocolate liquor.

From Ford’s tapes, and what Melody and the kids had told him afterwards, Miz had done some stuff with some plants and those wishes, and then just passed out. The _other_ one had been the one to go floating people all without their permission ‘just for fun’ and then cackling about it, then go up in flames before passing out, nearly starting a fire in the grass. ...So the dragon lady wasn’t necessary dangerous on her own when she got that drunk; the dangerous part was that she got more _suggestible_ to doing things other people told her they wanted her to do, instead. (...Great. Probably a good thing that Miz had nearly already passed out on them right away, then. Still meant he’d have to keep the kids away from her, though. Just for a different reason.)

So the kid was probably just being careful, or maybe more worried about her than the rest of them, with what he’d just said. ...and the way the kid had just pulled his knife and some of those stones of his out, to carve all sorts of squiggles and lines and things into. Because that was a thing.

...Well, at least the kid was taking care of it. Still seemed weird to Stan, though. First Miz making her bodies still-allergic to stuff from being human, and becoming a demon way back when had made her unable to handle chocolate now, on top of that?

Stan shook his head, and slowly sat back down in his chair, as Dipper pulled his beanbag chair over closer to the table, within arm’s reach of the hotdog carton pile. (Well, at least one of the kids was eating actual food besides ice cream for lunch.)

Stan grabbed a hotdog of his own to munch on, but he kept half an eye on Bill to watch the demon-kid as he set up a few of those ‘rune’-y carved stones around Miz’s chair inside the booth as he did; the kid didn’t seem worried, just vaguely annoyed, so there was that, at least. Miz still seemed pretty calm, just humming and rolling around to get more comfortable on her bean bag.

Mabel sat down beside her to start petting her hair. (Which got Miz freaking purring, of all things. Stan let out another tired sigh. These demon kids...) "So… she gets drunk if she eats chocolate? That’s sad." Mabel looked legitimately upset that Miz was unable to enjoy chocolate normally. "Does that mean she can’t have chocolate unless she’s somewhere safe with people looking after her?" Mabel asked.

That had Stan hesitating for a second. _Had_ Miz allowed herself to eat the stuff because she trusted Stan and Bill and the rest of them to protect her from harm? Stan glanced over at Bill. The kid would definitely protect her -- even from the rest of them, Stan was pretty sure, which was why he was working on not letting things ever go that far -- but she was allowing Mabel to pet her. _And_ Bill was letting Mabel get that close to his little sister while she was impaired and maybe even unable to defend herself as well. That implied a level of trust Stan hadn’t been expecting out of either of those two demon kids.

...And Stan didn’t really understand why. Because yeah, Miz had said that he and Mabel were ‘good people’, but what the hell did that even mean? Was that all it took for _her?_ ...Hell, Bill had left her up on deck with the niblings after that ‘stop’ thing he’d done -- and the kid had actually _fallen asleep_ the 'night' before while the kids had been talking with each other when she’d been all small-dragon-y, he’d found out from Ford on the rooftop later after the kids (demon and human) had all fallen asleep.

Stan ran a hand over his face. These two demons were surprisingly _way_ too trusting and easy to manage, once you knew how to handle 'em, where all their lines and pressure-points were. --Seriously, Ford had had no idea what he was doing. He could have had everything he could ever want. A demon who could alter reality itself, all for him.

...And all that Ford would have had to do was toss _every last moral he'd ever had_ into the garbage can, apparently, and get in bed with a trillion-year-old killer who would be absolutely _delighted_ to collapse another twelve dimensions for him, if only he asked. Stan sighed. Yeah, of course that wasn't gonna happen, and hadn’t happened way back when. --And _whatever_ had happened out there in the multiverse, Ford had only gotten an even stricter moral code over time. So, yeah. Ford had completely rejected Bill; no surprises there. Ford didn't want the kid; he couldn't handle it. No surprise there, either. ...Well, Stan could handle the kid, and he would; his brother didn't have to. That was fine. Bill wasn't Ford's problem anymore. and that was better than fine, as far as Stan was concerned. Stan had handed the kid a chance, practically forced it on the triangle demon almost, and the kid had taken it and held onto it as hard as he could; the kid wasn’t running, and the kid was his responsibility to handle now. --And Stan _wasn’t_ going to screw this one up, no way. Not with the kids counting on him. (And not with his brother needing…)

Stan wasn’t optimistic enough to think he could get (and keep) Miz towing the line all by himself -- she had no investment in him or the rest of his family -- but the fact that she seemed to trust him (for reasons Stan still didn’t understand) and trust Bill (for reasons that Stan could sort of see, between the two of 'em), made her a lot easier to handle. And with the kid running interference with her for him, she got downright almost manageable... most of the time. At least when she was around the kids (and Ford wasn’t around…), she seemed to be mostly not wanting to cause harm to other people.

Stan let out a sigh, as he looked at the sun and made plans for the rest of the day. Stan figured they would just go to the school once Ford woke up; that way, Ford could check out the science fair project himself. Stan wasn’t planning on waking him up if he could help it in the meantime, though; he didn’t want to have to deal with Ford pacing a hole in the back, or thinking of pulling another useless ‘guard duty’ stint -- only outside the high school this time. Because today was the day. The guys from that fancy school didn't come around until late afternoon, though -- technically after school let out, so they still had hours to go right now. Stan didn't want to be a distraction for their younger parallel-them selves, but they could still see the thing in action before then; he figured they could feed Ford some hot dogs on the way over, as they went, then just go inside and take a quick peek, to make sure it was still a-ok.

In the meantime, Stan figured he could help the demon-lady make enough money to let her feed herself a decent amount of normal people food once she woke up, for a change. So Stan settled into his chair, ate a hitdig or two, and just focused on helping Miz out by selling out her wares. He even spun up a ‘poor her’ tale about how _‘she’d stayed up all night makin’ ‘em for folks,’_ and that that was why she was tuckered out in the back. And hey, she _was_ tired; they all were, from the interdimensional time lag and from trying to stay up watching the house so late.

Stan looked over to see that, yeah, she was asleep again, finally. ...And it was a little weird to see her like that. She looked kinda cute almost, cuddling that new doll of hers as she slept -- at least, she would to anyone unaware she was actually a dangerous demon (and Mabel). ...Not that Stan was letting _that_ little detail keep him from exploiting that ‘cuteness’ any more that he did when Mabel pulled her thing, and milking that little scene in the back for all it was worth, to get the most sales outta the customers.

He didn’t have to do it for very long, either. It only took another two hours to sell out of the rest of her wares. And when he'd first completely taken over selling for her, Stan had sighed and felt annoyed that he was gonna have to send Dipper out with some money to go get some boxes or bags or something for the earrings. But luckily, Stan had looked around the booth real quick _before_ giving up and sending Dipper on that errand, and found a bunch of small boxes under the booth that Miz must've made up earlier for them. Stan wasn’t too surprised to find them there, though, because they’d talked about what she’d usually sold this stuff with before; that said, he was a little relieved Miz had thought to make enough of them for the rest of her wares before she'd conked out on him. It meant less expenditures, and more profit.

Stan counted out the money as he turned away from the counter, alternating bills with bites of one of the hotdogs he’d had Dipper get for them earlier. The kids were eating the rest. It was fine; he'd cleaned himself out on funds for this much of it, but he'd be able to make more in the meantime. He'd be able to buy more later, by the time the sleeping beauties woke up; they'd do just that, then head over to the science fair. It was open to the public, after all. Forget all that ‘look from afar’ out on the roof junk. They could just walk right in through the gymnasium’s double-doors, and go see exactly what had or hadn't changed…

...and then Stan would run damage control and "fix" everything. Because the triangle demon seemed _certain_ that something was going to go wrong, even if the younger versions of them hadn’t left the house last night to go talk about the whole thing on the swingset like they had -- and hadn’t fought with each other in the house, either. _Yet._ ...Because the way Stan saw it going down, he figured that this whole thing was gonna be one hell of a shock for that younger him later that night, when that younger Ford presented this whole thing as one of those ‘I got a bunch of college people interested in giving me a full-ride to college for my science fair project and, guess what, _I already won!_ ’ things to him after the fact.

Those parallel-thems hadn’t gone to school yesterday; that meant they couldn’t have been called to the office. So that other younger Stan wouldn’t have overheard what the principal and his parents really thought of him like Stan had, about how he’d just end up staying in Jersey doing shit jobs forever. He wouldn’t have overheard about the fancy college people that would be coming, that were interested in his brother. And because the two of them hadn’t left the house last night _or_ fought inside the house, that younger Stan obviously hadn’t had that conversation with Ford about being left behind, either... which meant that their parents had probably just told that younger Ford about the whole college board thing, and left that younger Stan right out of it. ...Because, y’know, why would it matter to him what his brother might have going for him as a good thing out of the blue, or that his twin would be leaving him behind if he went for it? Not like _he_ had a right to know what was goin’ on with his own brother, or nothin’. Right?

...And by then, in just a few short hours from now, it’d be too late for that younger Stan to say or do anything about it one way or the other, too. That Ford would have his mind set on that fancy college by then -- no way that those fancy college people wouldn’t want him, once they saw what he could do -- and then...

...well, at least that younger Stan wouldn’t be kicked outta the house, though. That was something, right? (A really lousy runner’s-up prize, sure, but hey, it did kinda beat the alternative of getting kicked out onto the streets and his brother never wanting to speak with him again, right? So it was still better than…)

(...except he knew himself. He’d get fed up with everything, sooner or later. He’d still end up leaving. And then when Shermie needed someone, needed _him_ …)

Stan looked down, pulled in a deep breath, and let it out again.

He focused on what he was doing, finished counting Miz’s money, then folded it up and stuffed it in a pocket.

And then he got up from his chair and cleared off the tabletop entirely, shoving the rest of the remaining display -- sand, seashells, and all that -- into the larger box that Miz had made earlier and used as part of the display before.

"Kid, you wanna do card tricks over here? Or keep on doin' them out there still?" Stan asked the kid, as he half-heartedly tossed the box under the counter, letting it drop to the floor. The kid turned his head towards him, and gave him a look that made it clear what he thought of _that_ idea, as Stan got up and made his way out of the booth again. Stan shrugged at him. "Suit yourself." Stan went around the front of the table and shoved the ‘fortune teller visitor’s chair’ (crate) over with his heel over a bit, to center it at the center of the counter instead. Then Stan walked himself back into the booth and did the same thing with his own chair. --No reason not to take up the entire space for fortune-telling, with nothing left of the earrings.

Stan did a few more tarot card readings, and Stan realized after awhile (and another magic show or two) that he wasn't making as much money as either of the two demons had, so far. And that left him feeling a little… odd. (Okay, yeah, maybe a part of him was feeling a little inadequate. He was the one who was supposed to be providing for his family, and taking care of the kid as part of the agreement.) But… Stan had asked the kid for his ideas, and the kid had handed him the tarot deck. ‘For free.’ Because the kid was ‘helping him out’. It hadn’t been Stan’s idea to go with this; he probably could’ve come up with something better than tarot to sell.

\--And hey, he was doing pretty good for making money from nothing, when the demon-kids could literally make stuff from nothing, just ‘free sand’ or pulled outta a hat full of everything! Still left him feeling a little odd, though. But that _was_ a thing. It wasn’t like Stan had some kinda crazy demon powers like either of the demon-kids, to be making product out of thin air or... doing a bunch of prop magic. Which he could do, if he’d had the props. But he didn’t and the kid did. And the kid had had to get it all from somewhere; the _kid_ hadn’t really pulled that junk outta thin air -- that had been planning. Kid had really been prepared for everything. Huh. ...Huh.

\--Wait. _Had_ the kid prepared for something like this?

Thing was, Stan didn’t know if the kid had handed him the tarot deck on purpose or not, thinking that Stan wouldn’t be able to make as much money as him off of it. So, had the kid _set him up_ for feeling this way, all off-balance and depending on the kid for this stuff? ...Then again, the kid had just been handing over all his earnings to him like he was some kind of... hell, not even a pimp, because the kid would’ve kept at least some small percentage of his earnings if that was the case. And, now that Stan was thinkin’ about it, the kid had sort of brought up the distribution of work -- him doing tarot and the kid doing card tricks -- himself, but when he’d done it, he’d done it like a _question_. Kid had actually hesitated when he’d said it, like he’d thought Stan might have a problem with it.

Stan resituated himself on the chair was sitting on a bit, stifling a grimace, and he thought about what would have happened if he’d taken the other deck, instead. ...He could’ve done poker or something, maybe, or some sort of card game like the cups, but that would’ve required money to offset any player’s buy-in, which he hadn’t had to start with. Okay. So that would have been a wash, maybe. Could’ve worked, but maybe not. (And the kid didn’t like uncertainty all that much; neither did he, when it came to a ‘choice’ of making money or starving.)

...He could’ve done straight-up card tricks like the kid, though, and maybe made at least as much money off of stuff as Bill. But… it’d be more of a Mr. Mystery act, and he would’ve had to leave the booth to do that and make bank. And with the kid doing the tarot, the kid would have been the one of the two of them sitting in the booth with Miz… and the kids... and _Ford_. (Yeah, sure. _That_ would have gone over well with his sleep-deprived brother…)

Stan let out a sigh and rubbed a hand down his face. ...Hell, even if Ford had gone back to the boat while taking the kids with him, leaving him to do his thing with the demons, making money alone in the booth, could the kid have even pulled off the tarot readings as well as he did? The triangle demon didn’t exactly seem to read _people_ very well, and… Stan wasn’t so sure that the demon would be as good at telling people what they wanted to hear as all that. (Heh, scratch that. Stan was pretty damn sure that the kid would’ve ended up with a lot of angry customers by telling the truth to them instead, and treating them like dirt.) That would’ve left Stan basically one-upping the kid by making more money with magic tricks than the kid at tarot, but… it would’ve caused other problems. And…

Stan glanced over at the kid again, who was still taking the magic act seriously, and then Stan stilled in place as it occurred to him. If the kid was really thinking of and treating what he was doing like ‘help’, then all of the kid’s own earnings would ‘count’ as _Stan’s_ earnings… and Stan taking the tarot deck and the kid doing magic outside the booth was making them the most bank overall, combined. _And_ it was also keeping the kid out of the booth, away from Ford.

Stan looked down at the tarot deck and reshuffled it, while watching the kid out of the corner of his eye. Thinking on it, they’d used up all Stan’s earnings from this morning to buy food for everyone except Miz (who was using her own money for that -- not like Stan could cover _that_ appetite so easy -- hell, he hadn’t even done that at the Shack, and the kid hadn’t even asked him to). But… Stan’s earnings _had_ covered it. And it wasn’t like Stan had asked the kid for an idea that would make him _bank_ ; he’d just been talking about it as a way to cover them all in the meantime. And Stan hadn’t even been pushing it; he hadn’t been trying to do tarot readings during the kid’s shows, and he’d spent a lot of time so far helping Miz sell all of _her_ own stuff. He could’ve made a good bit more money here with this than he already had already, if he’d really tried. He hadn’t actually spent all that much time doing the tarot readings yet today. He could’ve made more. --Maybe not as quickly or as much as the kid was racking up dollars for _his_ shows, still, but…

Stan sighed, then slapped on a smile as the next set of possible-suckers started walking by the table. He called out to them, getting their attention and selling the readings almost on autopilot, as he thought about the last piece of things.

Stan didn’t like having to rely on the demons for things, Miz or Bill. And it wasn’t like the kid didn’t know that. And Stan had talked about busking and running a proper con. But... if he’d told him that he just wanted money he could spend, and didn’t care how they got it… could they have just made up a stack of forged paper money for him, if he’d asked the kid, or Miz, to do it? Just as easily as Miz had made up those earrings to sell, from the sand?

\--The gaggle of older women in front of him was debating the tarot reading, and he tossed in a quick joke or two, to make them giggle, hamming it up.

Stan hadn’t asked the kid for efficiency, and he hadn’t asked for a big money-earner. What he had asked for was ideas while they were standing there in the booth. But what he’d _wanted_ , and said that he’d wanted, was for Ford to get some sleep. He’d said he wanted to keep the kids with him for the day if he could. He’d said he wanted to ‘busk’ for enough money to be able to feed themselves, while feeling tired as anything over what-all was going on with his brother there.

...And what the kid had helped to set up and give to him was a booth for the day that they could relax in (even before Stan had really asked), and work that was about as stressful as playing cards (when asked). Kid was helping him by helping them rest, or trying to. ...Wasn’t like the kid didn’t know how Stan felt about Ford being sleep-deprived, either -- and the kid didn’t like it when Ford did that any more than Stan did, he’d lay even bets on that.

The kid had tried to give him what he wanted. What he’d _said_ he wanted.

...This was dangerous. The kid really _was_ trying to help him out, here, as far as he could tell. (Except the kid usually got things wrong so often that…)

Stan finally got a hook, three ladies egging each other on. ...He smiled as they approached the table, because if he played this right, he’d get each of them in a row, all listening in on each other, in a ‘do her next’ ‘do me next’ scenario. Heh.

Stan was gonna have to talk to the kid about this later, definitely. He didn’t want to risk getting this wrong. Stuff with the kid had shifted again, and it was starting to get hard to keep up. ‘Help by him’ on top of ‘wanting him’ by way of a gambling-bet ‘not-a-game’ all sitting on top of their mutual non-aggression agreement, with a new demonic ‘little sister’ now thrown into the mix? Right now, Stan wasn’t even sure if the level of help he was getting from the kid right now was more from the ‘wanting him’, or the promised help for as long as the ‘gambling-bet’ was going on.

And Stan figured that _that_ was gonna be pretty important to figure out one _hell_ of a lot sooner than just 'later’.

\------

Bill eventually laid down next to his sister in the back of the booth, dozing lightly, for his usual afternoon nap, and Stan let out a quiet breath of relief. (He’d been worried that he might have to get in an argument with the kid over getting him to lie down for (at least one of) his usual ‘midday’ nap(s) -- y’know, those naps that the kid never admitted that he took. That the kid had done it on his own without making a big fuss about it, or getting cranky first, or pushing things until he practically collapsed, was a good sign.) ...And then Stan was finally able to do some readings on a hell of a lot more people to properly earn his own money.

And Stan felt a little odd in a different way, now, because Stan felt plain next to the kid’s earlier artsy-glittery draw, especially when _he_ was used to being the one in the room putting on the big show. Stan could fully admit that, when comparing his tarot readings to Bill’s magic act, he was nowhere near as impressive as Bill was in terms of showmanship -- and to be fair, while the kid could cheat with real magic, the kid had also been showing off a hell of a lot of flair there, too.

...But the thing was, a Mr. Mystery act, acting all larger-than-life? Wasn’t what people were looking for in a tarot reading; not really. People weren’t walking up to the booth looking for some big puffed-up personality; tarot was about making everything about the person being _read_ , if you were doing it right -- a different and quieter kind of mystery. Yeah, you had to come across as the authority at the table, knowing what you were doing, sure. But this wasn’t some psychic-crystal-ball shake-the-table here-come-the-ghosts mediumistic nonsense he was doin’, here. (...And Stan had a pretty good, bad idea what his brother would have to say about all _that_ , with some of the junk Ford had written about it in that third journal of his, way back when. --Anyway, point was:) You weren’t trying to go over the top for this stuff, with the cards -- and if you were, then you were missing the _point_.

Honestly, it all felt like a throwback almost, putting on a new-old skin, because the last time Stan remembered helping his ma out with her tarot readings had been back in… hell, _elementary school_. (Was he remembering that right?) And he’d just been happy and excited to be able to be all helpful to the people on the other end of the phone, drawing cards and sometimes figuring out parts of the readings all on his own from the book, for his ma, and for them.

Stan had never done a full reading on his own back then; and neither he or his ma had actually done any of those things for people in-person, only over the phone hotline at a remove. No faces, and sometimes even no names; just a voice. So doing this stuff in the booth now? Was _kind of_ the same? But also really, really different. ...And a hell of a lot calmer than the Mystery Shack tours, he had to give the kid that. He felt removed from all the stress of the boardwalk out there because he _was_ : all the rush and bustle was **literally** on the other side of the table away from him, and the inside of the booth behind him was an oasis of calm and sleepy serenity.

...And Stan, being Stan, did what he always did: he took it all and ran with it. (Wasn’t like he hadn’t had to make up another new persona or two before on a moment’s notice. Except, this time, it didn’t really feel like a ‘persona’, which was the _really_ odd part of it.) Wasn’t like it was hard; he’d done stuff _like_ this before, if not maybe this exact thing here _specifically_...

So Stan did his thing, with a real chance at doing stuff without having to compete with or offset the kid, and by the time Ford and Miz woke up, Stan had managed to rack up a damn respectable amount of cash for his efforts, if he did say so himself. Not long after Miz woke up, Bill was blinking and yawning as he slowly sat up on his own, too. Stan leaned back in his chair and glanced back over his shoulder at the lot of them, as Miz yawned and looked around before declaring that she was hungry and, well, that was Stan’s cue.

"Hey kid, here's your profits," Stan told Miz, reaching into his pocket for just that. "Maybe think about filling up on some people food this time. There's some food stalls nearby." Stan handed her the stack of bills. She took them from him, then turned and stared at the cleared tabletop.

"They all sold? How?" Miz said, sounding a little shell-shocked.

Stan shrugged. "People came and bought 'em?" She seemed surprised at that. (...Well, yeah, she didn't push customers to buy. She probably wasn't used to being able to sell all of her stock.) Stan blinked when Miz stared at him in awe, though.

"Thank you," she said with a complicated expression, heartfelt but also a little melancholy. Stan frowned slightly, not sure how to feel about that. Wasn't like she hadn't been paying him commision to sell 'em for her. All he could think of to tell her was: "Uh. No problem, kid."

Ford, who was slowly dragging his brain awake again, after having fallen asleep on the floor under a light blanket, looked confused about where he was for a long moment, as he muttered out, "Wh’sss... -- _Lee!_ " Stan watched his brother jolt upright and shove the blanket off of himself roughly. " _ **\--The science fair!!**_ " Ford made a more coordinated lurch to his feet than Stan would have ever expected out of his brother while still half-asleep… except that he'd seen Ford attempt that before on the boat multiple times on less sleep and actually succeed. (...most of the time. Unless he did it in the middle of a really bad rough sea day, full of choppy waves, and then… well...)

"Calm down Poindexter. We still have, uh…" Stan glanced to check the time. "...Two hours before the guys from that fancy school are gonna show up, yeah?" Ford started to calm down a little after checking his own watch, and Stan reached over to clap his shoulder. "Come on, let's get you some food."

Miz was flipping through her bills with an amazed look on her face. "I could buy so much food with this!" she gasped.

"Well, yeah?" Stan snorted. That had been kinda the point. (Because from what he could tell, Miz was constantly hungry. So she needed it. Though whatever reason that she ended up ravenous after doing stuff when the kid didn’t, Stan wasn't sure. He knew the kid did some things differently -- more ‘efficiently’? -- than her, but Stan didn’t get _what_ was really causing the differences, or _why_ the dragon-lady just… didn’t do all that flashy stuff, then, if it was gonna do that to her, making her that hungry that fast and that soon. He also didn’t know why the kid hadn’t walked through better ways of doing stuff with her yet. ...He’d have to ask later.)

Miz turned to Bill. "Do you want any of the stuff here?" The older demon looked around at the stands full of hotdogs, burgers and deep fried _everything_.

"No," said Bill.

Miz shrugged. "I can see about a fruit stand or something?" she asked him next. Bill hummed noncommittally. It was fine if his little sister wanted to eat the food around here, he just didn’t want to bother. Obtaining, identifying, handling, cleaning, distilling, checking, cleaning-again, distilling-again, re-distilling a third time, and then checking again, long before any ingesting could happen for him safely and easily… it was too much trouble to do for any and every old thing he might think of putting in his mouth when he was stuck in this stupid human-ish body. Doing the bare minimum of burning things that were barely edible thoroughly before eating them? Well, that was annoying enough as it was. He wasn’t going through ALL THAT for some stupid _hotdog!_ No!

Stan didn’t comment or bother to weigh in on things; he knew now what the kid would and would not eat, and he knew that the kid still had more of those crackers to fall back on for now. So Stan only bought a few more hotdogs to pass off to Ford, to pester him to eat as the kids hit the beach restrooms before they all left the boardwalk. (Stan figured it was a good thing that those restrooms were for the public and open twenty-four-seven. They’d sure been useful last night, on the way to the roof where Ford had decided to crouch for his impromptu stakeout. One of the things he hadn’t gotten set up on the Stan o’ War yet to-date had been the plumbing...)

Meanwhile, Miz ran around all the stalls, getting herself a little bit of everything. She bought hot dogs, burgers, chicken skewers and french fries for herself, along with a few sodas, and Dipper and Mabel stared at her as she ate.

Dipper looked back and forth between Miz and Bill. "How come you don’t eat so much?" he asked Bill.

Bill waved the question off. "I’m more careful about what I put inside myself. You humans ARE what you EAT, you know!" Miz just shrugged in reply, simply stating: "I apparently have no standards." She didn’t seem all that ashamed by this fact.

Bill, on the other hand, was _something_ over this (though certainly not _ashamed_ … maybe a little annoyed?) -- Bill ruffled her hair and said, "You DO have standards! You just need BETTER ones. SO HAVE BETTER STANDARDS! _\--AT LEAST ONE MORE THAN YOU HAVE RIGHT NOW!_ IMPROVEMENT!!!" Miz made a muffled protest through her mouthful of french fries at the penalizing hair-ruffling.

Mabel and Dipper turned to each other, exchanging a look. ...Because it was really weird watching Bill and Miz interact. The demons almost seemed like real siblings sometimes. It made them feel really weird to see Bill Cipher actually acting kind of like an older brother was supposed to act.

The group made their way off the boardwalk. Miz finished eating almost all of her own food haul -- which was just about enough to feed a whole sports team (and had Stan really wondering just how much energy she'd actually been using to pull off the stuff she was doing, and comparing it to how much the kid usually used by comparison). Miz was just finishing up nibbling on her last box of chicken nuggets, when the school came into sight.

From the look of the sidewalk and school courtyard, there weren’t a lot of people from the community raring at the bit to go inside and look at the science fair projects for the school’s spring ‘open house’. ...Well, Stan wasn’t surprised about that. Their school wasn’t all that impressive, and people weren’t all that interested in this sort of thing in their town.

But as they all approached the double-doors of the gymnasium, right before they were about to pass the threshold to the inside, Ford stopped in the middle of the doorway and turned in place to glare at the demons, blocking the door.

"You--" said Ford. "I don't want either of you _anywhere_ near it! No messing with it just to spite me," Ford just about spat out at the two demons. (Hell, Stan couldn’t exactly blame his brother for it, either. He got why Ford was so worried about the whole thing.)

Miz scowled but didn’t say anything. Bill placed a hand on her head. "Just wait," Bill said to her simply. She nodded, shoving two chicken nuggets in her mouth, chewing to stop herself from speaking.

Ford glanced between them with an annoyed expression (covering up no small worry). He was absolutely _certain_ that the demons were messing with him, stressing him and Stan out on purpose just for their own sick amusement.

Stan sighed. "Alright, Ford. What do you want to do here?" he asked of his brother. He didn't like the idea of the demons staying out here alone with the kids, out of his sight. But Stan figured he needed to be in there to help Ford out, once they saw what might’ve happened, or didn’t happen, or... whatever; he didn’t know. And Stan was pretty sure that Ford wouldn’t want the kids to be in there with him, just in case there _was_ a problem. (Because then the kids would see him completely lose his shit and…)

But to this, Stan’s brother gave him an odd look.

"I’m going inside," Ford told him, as if that was obvious. (And well sure; _that_ was.) "You weren’t actually planning on letting the demons roam around the floor of the science fair, inside the building here, were you?" Ford said next, in descending tones, and…

Stan blinked at him. "Well, uh… no?" Stan said, feeling a little confused. "But the kids--"

"I’d rather not have them inside, either," Ford said. At the shocked and surprised complaints from the niblings -- who apparently wanted to see the great and fabled perpetual motion machine for themselves -- Ford crouched down in front of them and said, "Once the danger has passed, we can come back and you can see it, then, if you’d like. But for now--"

...the _danger?_ The heck was Ford… Stan shook his head and let it go, as he listened to Ford talk the niblings out of going inside -- or trying to sneak inside either -- until at least 5 o’clock that afternoon. Which would be a couple hours past when the college board jerks would show up. ...Which Ford had gone for probably, y’know, just in case something had happened to make ‘em late or something, Stan figured.

"Okay, Ford," Stan sighed out next, crossing his arms as his brother stood back up to face him. "Then what are you wantin’ _me_ to do, here? Because--"

"--What do you mean?" Ford asked him next. "You’re staying outside and watching the demons here, aren’t you?"

Stan stared at Ford.

"I--" Stan began, feeling a little dizzy with shock. Because he hadn’t expected--

Stan took in a deep breath, and forced himself to… calm down? He wasn’t real sure what he was feelin’ right then, though. Just that it didn’t feel really good. (If anything, it felt _wrong_ , because he’d thought that--)

"Ford," Stan said almost carefully. "Don’t you want me comin’ in there with you?"

And to this, his brother stared at him like he was out of his flipping mind.

"Why would I--" Ford stopped for a moment, staring at Stan like he’d never seen him before.

Then Ford frowned.

"Stanley," Ford said, almost as carefully as Stan had just talked, except he also sounded... "Why would I want you inside?"

Stan looked at his own brother in disbelief.

"Ford, I wasn’t plannin’ on breaking your science fair project," Stan told him, flat-out. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do," Ford said, and Stan let out a breath about as quietly as he could. Because he couldn’t believe that he ever suspected his own brother had been so paranoid as to think that-- "The best time for you to have tried that would have been last night, and you didn’t try to sneak away. You laid yourself down and you slept all through the night," Ford told him next. "You’ve been thoroughly occupied with the demons, ever since."

Stan’s stomach dropped to his knees, and he felt a cold chill go down his spine.

Miz was frowning. "So you don’t trust him…" She muttered quietly.

Ford shot a glare at the demon, then turned back to his brother.

"Stan," he told him. "You have to understand--"

"Oh, no, _really?_ " Stan said, looking irate. "Well, go on and _explain_ it to me, then! Yeah? --C’mon! Out with it!"

Ford clenched his jaw, then shook his head and let out a breath roughly, forcing himself to try and relax. "Stan, you’re _already_ worked up over this," Ford said. He didn’t mean to offend his brother, it was only that-- "I don’t trust myself not to say something that might offend you--"

" _Offend_ me?" Stan blurted out, looking even angrier, and Ford grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"--which is already happening as we stand here right now," Ford said next with no small exasperation with himself ( _and_ his brother), then slowly looked up to see his brother standing there, glowering at him.

"You don’t trust me," Stan said. "That’s what this is. You don’t trust me not to--"

"-- _Stan_ ," Ford tried again, feeling increasingly tired. "Of the last few times we have fought... Of the last _three_ times we have gotten into serious _physical altercations_ with each other, what has ostensibly made you upset to the point of forgoing words for actions, was me. There was a tipping point where _you_ lost your temper because of something _I_ had said. And _two_ of those altercations escalated to such a degree so quickly, with the two of us so incensed with each other over pettiness and old grievances, that we literally became unaware of our surroundings and completely blind to and unconcerned with the larger problems at-hand, in our surrounding environment, at the time," Ford said. "And I think you know the two altercations of which I am speaking," his first journal and the portal, and the Zodiac circle during Weirdmageddon.

Silence from his brother.

Ford pulled in another breath. "I _don’t_ want to place blame, and I _will_ take responsibility for my part in those fights. --And regardless of how you or I may feel about any of the specific _details_ of those fights, what I think we both do _not_ fail to recognize is the pattern here," Ford said. "And I _need_ to go in there and see what the state of-- that science fair project is," Ford told him. "If we both go in at the same time, we risk having an altercation with each other that could very well end with that table being broken, and that project destroyed." Ford glanced over at Bill. "And I have no doubt in my mind that the demon currently standing at ‘your side’ would _love_ to see that very thing happen," Ford gritted out as he looked back to Stan. "And if you go in there before the judges do, I have no doubt that Bill could have easily set things up somehow for you to be the one to break that project, accidentally or otherwise--" he saw Stan begin to protest, "--potentially even something as simple as being in the wrong place at the wrong time to be _bumped into_ and _pushed_ into the project table, whether you’d want that to happen or _not_ ," Ford told him. "And then we would both be left, wondering. And as for those younger versions of ourselves..." Ford trailed off.

Ford saw his brother clenching his jaw. Stan was all but glaring at him.

"Stan, please see reason here," Ford told his brother quietly, stepping forward to place his hands on his shoulders. "I don’t even know the state of the project in there, at-present. I-- I _can’t_ have you in there with me when I see it," he told him next, looking down a bit, briefly closing his eyes.

"Ford…" Stan said slowly.

"We’ve never talked about this, Stan," Ford said to Stan under his breath, stopping his voice from traveling. "Not once; not _really_ ," he told him, feeling his own shoulders slump a little, even as his own back tensed. "I don’t--" He pulled in a breath. "I don’t know if I might lose my temper at you or not, not if something is wrong in there," Ford looked up at him. "And I don’t want to risk doing that. Not to you, and not in front of the niblings." He swallowed. " _Please_ ," he asked of his brother, hoping beyond hope that Stan would just _see sense_ , just this one time...

Stan stared at him for a long time.

"...Fine," Stan said, looking away from him.

Ford let out a breath and slowly lowered his hands from his brother’s shoulders, feeling a little like he could breathe again.

~~(And yet, at the same time, he also felt a bit like something had sucked all the breathable air out of the atmosphere surrounding the planet, and replaced it with an entirely-unbreathable mix. It was a little like breathing underwater; his lungs were expanding correctly again, but it felt like there was no oxygen left for him to...)~~

"All right," Ford said, taking a step back. "Alright." He braced himself, then said, " _Thank you_ , Stan."

To this, Ford got nothing more than a noncommittal grunt, and a brother who turned away from him, looking anything but happy with him. (He’d half-expected gloating from his brother. ...Or at least a bit of taunting from Bill, who had also remained oddly silent throughout. Because a ‘thank you’ under _these_ circumstances was...)

Ford let out an unhappy sigh himself, then turned back towards the gymnasium doors.

He steeled himself, then marched right on into the building.

\---

Bill and Miz looked to Stanley as he walked past them towards the courtyard wall (and some of the benches there), saying, "C’mon, you four. Benches ain’t gonna walk themselves over _here_ for us." They glanced at each other, before they both shrugged and followed him over. (Pine Tree and Shooting Star reacted in a similar manner, though they were talking quietly to each other as they went.)

Miz popped the rest of her snack in her mouth and walked over to throw out the container in a nearby garbage can. "Sure, I'm just gonna go sit down here, then," she grumbled before settling in at one of the benches.

Bill followed her to the bench, glancing over at Stan briefly. "When you want to fix things, just tell me."

Stan let out a heavy sigh. --The kid was still convinced something was going to go wrong. He frowned, then glanced over at the twins, who had decided to sit one bench down from the demon-kids. They were both not wanting to get too close, but they were just as clearly watching the two demons like a pair of hawks. (Dipper obviously didn't want Bill and Miz going off on their own, and wanted to keep an eye on them for Ford, yeah. But he also clearly wanted to go to the science fair, see Ford’s project, and help out as much as he could. And so did Mabel.)

Stan just sighed, feeling bad about the whole thing.

He turned around and sat down on the far end of the bench, on the same bench as the demon-kids. It put him between the demon-kids and the kids... and left him staring at the doors of the gymnasium that Ford didn’t want him to enter.

Stan blinked as he watched Ford march into the gymnasium and… slow down. And then he saw Ford turn his head to glance over his shoulder back at him, looking almost guiltily at him before he turned away and...

...vanished out of sight around a corner.

Stan frowned a little as he sat back on the bench out in the open courtyard, and crossed his arms. ...The heck had _that_ been about? What did his brother have to feel guilty about? _He’d_ been the one to get himself kicked out of the house, the one who’d ‘ruined his own life’ -- and Ford’s along with it, the way Ford had always talked about it, before and since...

\---

Ford was still steeling himself as he turned a corner and-- saw the booth.

And his science fair project.

\--The other, younger Ford’s project. The perpetual motion machine.

It was out on full display, spinning and--

Ford sucked in a breath, then let it out again in a rush again mere moments later. Because he hadn’t been seeing things; it was still spinning. --It was _working_. The science fair project was _fine_. Ford took a step forward, then two, then three, then another and another and another until he was himself standing right there in front of it.

He stared down at it, almost in wonder, feeling almost like he was caught up a fever-dream. It was... _surreal_. It was just _sitting there_ , spinning and working not three steps away from him farther forward. ~~_If he simply reached out a hand…_~~ It was… it was just as wonderful as he remembered it. It was...

...out on full display, he realized, looking up, and that wasn’t quite right -- except it also was exactly that. That was _right_ , because…

Ford glanced to the side and noted that the curtain was still tied up at the corners of the booth between Stan’s and his. His project was right next to Stan’s project, the one about... about a kicking robot that Stan had built out of cardboard and an old toaster and...

...He remembered full well what had happened that day. The day that the West Coast Tech representatives had come to see his project. He’d pulled the curtain aside, and then...

And then.

...The curtain had been up. Not over to one side; it had been tied across the booth. Hiding his project from view. He remembered the chain and course of events well, and…

\--At the time, as it had happened, and for days afterwards, he hadn’t thought too much on the particulars beyond that -- the facts of the event that had occurred being nightmarish enough as they had stood. But...

...he really _hadn’t_ put the curtain up again the day before when he’d left, had he.

Ford felt his hands clench spasmodically into fists. He had to force himself to close his eyes and breathe.

An accident. Stan had always said it was an accident. But with the curtain tied closed, when it hadn’t been prior… he’d agonized over that one for days, _weeks_ afterwards. Whether he had or hadn’t. Because had he? Or hadn’t he? He’d practically _obsessed_ over it for awhile, after the initial anger and shame and frustration and sickening loss had passed. After Stan hadn’t shown up for school since he’d been thrown out of the house, and hadn’t been home since, either -- not even so much as _tried_ to darken the doorway of the house or the shop...

Ford been almost completely certain that he hadn't closed the curtain the preceding day, but with the stress of the situation -- and everything else -- he'd never been completely sure. Not really. Not _completely_...

But what Stan had said to him and done after had been more than damning enough not to matter, back then. Not in the long-run. Not really. --Because it would have changed nothing. 'Accident’ or not, Stan had broken the project, not told him of it, and not been the least bit sorry or shown even one iota of remorse for his actions later, afterwards. Not to him; not to anyone. Ever.

But now… with the facts of the matter staring Ford right in the face?

\--A closed curtain implied something that had needed to be hidden. It implied knowledge that something had been _wrong_. ...It didn't imply simple ignorance of a potential problem; it practically _screamed_ of malice aforethought -- which Ford had tried to tell himself it hadn’t been, _couldn’t_ have been what had happened, for days and days afterwards after the initial shock and anger had worn off. Days and days and days... until he simply couldn’t take it anymore.

Because he’d been _abandoned_ by his twin. Stan hadn’t even _tried_ to apologize to him. --Stan had been kicked out of the house, yes. But nothing had prevented Stan from showing up at school to see him! Stan could have-- he could have at least come to _see_ him-- instead of running away like a coward. He could have at least come and ~~told him that he was sorry, that he hadn't meant it~~ confessed to the deed. He could at least have had the damn courage and _common decency_ to come to him, to talk to him, to walk up to him and look him right in the eye and tell him exactly _why_ he'd done it--

Stan, the suffocating, arrogant, self-centered ass, had dropped _him_ first. Thrown _him_ away. --At the very first sign that Ford had wanted something for himself, that he wasn’t fully willing to go along with one of Stan’s harebrained schemes, Stan had just--! Just… he’d just...

Ford, shaking with anger and hating _everything_ to do with what had happened--

Ford opened his eyes and glared at the perfectly-engineered, brilliantly designed, horribly beautiful, _gloriously stupid_ \--

And then Ford snapped bolt upright in place and took a quick step backwards, feeling dizzy and quite literally physically ill. Because he suddenly realized that he’d been _leaning towards_ the--

His fists were _clenched_ \--

He was _shaking_ \--

Ford closed his eyes again briefly, tilted his head back, and forced himself to take in a deep breath. Forced himself to unclench his fingers, loosen his fists. ~~He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t--~~

He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. What was he doing? Standing here and thinking about ~~what Stan had~~ \--

He dropped his chin, looked back down at the machine, and felt the paranoia pressing in. Because…

\--This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. This wasn’t what had happened. ~~\--Been meant to happen? Prophesied? _Necessary? --A man with the face of the one who would kill_ …--~~ It hadn't happened this way, and--

Something terrible was going to happen. Something terrible was going to happen if he didn’t--

\--If he didn't break it, Stan wouldn't be kicked out of the house, would he? Ford himself had had his life ruined, but by comparison? _Here?_ What was the worst that could happen? ~~(Bill loved his worst-case scenarios, always getting what he wanted SOMEHOW--)~~

Bill had been _far_ less than helpful on that front as of late. So Ford forced himself to stop and actually _think_.

...If he broke the project here, his young counterpart would still go to college, albeit a highly subpar one where he would have to work twice times as hard to get anywhere. He would eventually graduate and move to Gravity Falls. He would find his life's dream really.

...And he would never summon Bill Cipher, because Bill was stuck in a human'ish’ form with _them_. This Ford would be just fine; a bit frustrated at his progress on the Universal Theory of Weirdness, certainly, but…

...He would never build a portal. Not this younger Ford here. Because the portal had been _Bill's_ idea. Ford hadn't come up with that; _Bill_ had suggested it, and then…

This Ford would never call this Stan for help. He wouldn't need him. And this Stan...

...would be punished for his crimes, many times over. Stan didn't talk about those ten years that he’d been ~~missing~~ absent from his life; he never had. Not _really_. But Ford was no fool.

Ford had looked over those IDs that the niblings had found earlier that summer, looked through that box. And Ford had gone on that boat trip with his brother ~~one that he was beginning to regret that he had done…~~ and… they'd run into an odd bit of trouble once or twice that had seemed… And there had been ports that Stan had outright refused to even consider letting them dock at. --One time, Stan had waited until he was _asleep_ to go up to the navigation unit, and come next morning, his brother had stubbornly refused to admit that he'd put in the course change, let alone _why_ …

Ford remembered at least some of what Stan had yelled at him, down in the basement lab, right before he'd been pushed in, sleep-deprived as he had been.

For everything Ford had suffered through, up to meeting Bill, Stan had gone through far worse.

...With no Bill Cipher in this world to lead this Ford down a path of ruin…

...With no Bill Cipher and no reason for this Ford to call his brother for help…

~~Stan would get what he deserved. No absolution. No second chances. Just justice, pure and simple. Just and only justice.~~

Ford felt his breath leave him in a rush, like a punch to the gut, as the thought hit him with the force of a compulsion, pressing in on him from all sides: step forward, break it. _Do it. Do it **now** before-- ~~it was too late to **fix**~~_ ~~\--~~

~~_\--no, don't--_ ~~

~~_\--this is wrong--_ ~~

~~_\--this is all wrong, all of this is wrong!--_ ~~

~~_\--NO! **STOP!** \--_ ~~

Ford shook his head and forced himself to take _another_ step backwards, brain buzzing with ‘what if’s and ‘I don’t know’s and an ocean of guilt and fear with an undercurrent of paranoid--

~~_\--but what _would_ happen if he broke it? What if **he** broke it?_ Would _that_ set things right? Would it--~~

He didn’t know what he was doing here. He didn’t know--

Bill was CERTAIN that it would break. The demon had said--

(No. This wasn't right. No.)

Bill had said that Stan--

(No. That wasn't right. No.)

Bill had said that ‘someone’ would--

(No! Stop! NO!)

Stan had said that--

\--he had barely slept at all last night. He’d--

Ford quickly raised a hand to his face and slapped himself, _hard_.

He jolted in place as he felt the shock of the slap run through him, and the effect that it had on him was akin to being hit by a bucket of cold water (thank the Axolotl). He shook _that_ off, and… once he’d recentered himself, feeling almost _awake_ again…

He glanced around in alarm, all around him, all around the room (finally mentally cataloguing all of the points of exit and entry) because-- _what the hell was he **doing** here?_

The science fair project was fine. Everything was fine. --And the judges were coming soon. He couldn’t be seen in here--!

~~\--He needed to _get out **RIGHT NOW** \--!!_~~

Ford turned on his heel and quickly walked back outside.

(He was shivering as he went.)

\----

(...Meanwhile…)

Outside, Miz glanced at Bill, easily conveying her desire to go inside as well. Bill sighed and sat down. "Lean on me. Take a nap," he told her. "That Stanford doesn't want you causing trouble."

As she settled her head on his shoulder, he turned his head towards her and murmured -- directly into her ear so that Stanley would not hear it -- "You can pretend to sleep, jump out into the Mindscape. Do what you want, so long as you don't mess with what happens inside that gymnasium or with any of the Pines -- native or Zodiac-mine -- and don’t get caught while you’re out. I’ll watch your body here." Bill was planning on covering for her as he could, keeping her vessel close enough to be within his own magical defenses letting it ‘sleep’ on him, while she herself was actually away.

Miz nodded and leaned against her brother's side, closing her eyes and relaxing. She slipped out of her vessel and stretched, her mental image of herself still in Miz's form. Bill carefully made sure _not_ to glance up at her as she did; he didn’t give away anything as Dipper and Mabel chatted quietly with each other where they sat on another bench nearby. Miz heard Mabel ask if Miz had fallen asleep again, before she flew off to go inside the gym.

She wasn't even paying attention to Ford's project, she was curious about what everyone else had made. She checked on Stan's first, having always wondered about it from her time watching the show. She went up and actually read the little snippets little Stan had written. Aw~ it was so cute. He actually wrote out how the kicking robot would be used to score in football and revolutionize sports. It was sweet and wholesome, a delightful little fantasy that… was actually functional? It wouldn’t ‘kick’ a football very _far_ , but without the football duct taped to it, the lever _would_ move the boot in the right way to hit something at least _some_ short distance, and… She felt a soft pang of sadness at this little dream being discarded, like so many other dreams Stan used to have as a child. Miz glared a little at Ford (from the Mindscape where he couldn’t see her) when he approached the table, but turned away.

Nope. Miz shook her head. She wasn't supposed to mess with anything here. Well, nothing that related to Stan and Ford at least. She wanted to look at other people's projects. She liked reading through this sort of thing. What did these children think was important enough to do their final project on? Did they care? Did they simply make something for the purpose of a grade? Did anyone else here love science?

Was anyone else as broken up about it, having all their hopes hanging on this one event as Ford had been?

Miz shrugged and ran off to look through more science projects. Speaking of Ford, she wasn't sure what to do. Ford still hated her and she wasn't sure if he would ever stop. This was pretty much normal for her at this point, to be hated, but she still didn't like it. She glanced over at young Ford's science fair project and the older Stanford who was trembling as he stood in front of it. It was going to suck...

She wondered if Stan would know how to fix it. Well, he would know better than that Stanford at least. She turned and floated away to look at some of the other projects. Huh. A few of these weren't half bad. Granted, she hadn't been expecting much. "How music can alter emotions…" she read out from the poster on one of the booths. "Hah!"

Hm~ the kid behind this project (she Flickered and Saw: Sarah Matthews, boring name, unnotable, shy girl, ignored by most of the school, retreated into songs and music for comfort...) wasn't really appreciated for the work she put in. Miz wanted to help her with that. Perhaps steering her towards a career in music direction for media would be good for her? Movies could have scenes that felt more powerful, with the right application of sound and music. The research Miz was reading here made her believe little Sarah would go far if only she had the CHANCE to do so.

Miz hummed in thought. It could be easily done, a few Deals here and there… and the wonderful creativity of this young woman would be given the chance to _grow_ and thrive…

How she loved watching people develop and learn and evolve, expanding their skills and knowledge! A quick, longer Flicker made her frown. Sarah hadn't gotten much positive attention from her science teachers about this project. She’d been completely overlooked in favor of Ford, the teacher's pet golden boy of the school. Hell, the teachers had barely bothered to read over her project, because she hadn't invented or built anything; to them, her project was ‘just’ a comprehensive paper of her findings about music and sounds as relating to the triggering of emotional responses…

It wasn't flashy or exciting or impressive at a first glance. And so they had overlooked her. And Sarah, in turn, had taken that as proof that this was not a path she should pursue because it would offer her nothing. Miz growled to herself and decided that she would step in for this.

She wasn't going to be hurting this girl, oh no, she was going to help her to make it BIG. Miz didn't want to see Miss Sarah Matthews fail, to give up on her ambitions just because no one in this stupid school realized the worth of her research. The Arts never received the same praise as the more ‘important’ subjects and fields of study. And that was a damn shame.

So Miz flew off to talk to a few people. It wasn’t like she was going to force Sarah into the path of using her passion for a career; she’d just… _inspire_ her a little bit towards it. Let her know that this was an OPTION that she could choose. Heck, she'd even give the girl multiple other options. Any of them would be fine, so long as she didn't allow that wonderful creative spark of hers to just _die off!_

\----

Sarah Matthews was a quiet girl. Not so quiet that she was sought out as a bullying target, no, she was the type who ended up forgotten in the background. No one messed with her, no one talked to her, and she was fine with that. Better to be ignored than to catch the bad sort of attention that other kids got from their peers.

That's why she was quite surprised when someone sat down across from her desk at the library. She had a study hall for her last period of the day and was quietly working on her homework in the library. No one bothered her here. She was content to just sit alone and get her work done. So when she saw movement in her peripherals and glanced up to see a… very attractive young man sit down at her table with a bunch of leaflets and books, she was quite startled.

"Hey, sorry, didn't mean to bother you." The boy grinned at her. Sarah looked around, realizing that he really had been talking to her. She eyed him suspiciously; there were plenty of free tables, why had he come to sit with her? She scooted her chair back a little, wary of this boy she didn't remember seeing around the school. But he wasn't looking at her; he was busy flipping through all his books and leaflets… which appeared to be for various colleges.

Sarah glanced over at them, wondering what he was looking at. She herself hadn't really decided on where she wanted to go yet, or even if she’d go. She didn't know what she wanted to do with her life. Her parents wanted her to go into nursing, because it was something women could do, it was a pretty stable career choice, and hospitals always needed help, but... she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted to do.

Sarah relaxed when the boy seemed to ignore her and continue reading through and discarding the many college leaflets. As he tossed one away, it slid towards her and Sarah glanced over at it; it was close enough now that she could read the front.

’York's school of music and sound design.’

...Huh? Sarah almost reached for it before pulling her hand back. She shouldn't touch other people's stuff. Without looking up at her, the boy spoke up. "Feel free to look through them if you want. There's plenty," he told her, as he discarded yet another one. Sarah flushed and almost got up to leave but... the boy's tone was friendly, kind. He hadn’t been taunting her, and she was pretty sure that he wasn’t just setting her up to make fun of her from the way he was acting. Sarah was pretty sure that he’d just meant what he’d said. So Sarah picked up the leaflet and looked through it.

… and then she reached over, picked up another one that the boy had discarded (another music school?), looked through it... and she found herself surprised. She hadn't realized there were so many schools like this. Was this boy planning to be a musician? She glanced over at him and his discard pile, then one of the leaflets in particular caught her eye. It was a pamphlet talking about sound design and direction. Like, being a director for music, what goes where for maximum effect to sway the listener's response sort of thing. --She knew this stuff. She'd done a project about it.

She hadn't known there was a career path for such a thing.

She was so enraptured with the thought that she didn't notice when the boy got up from his seat and left, leaving all the leaflets behind and vanishing as if he were never there. He had some people to talk to, to get her set on her path, whichever she chose, without trouble. Namely some music teachers in the school who might be willing to write her letters of recommendation…

\---

Miz settled back into her vessel with a sigh. Well. She felt a lot better now, having done something that she felt was a nice use of her time. She found Bill and the younger set of twins just lounging around on their separate benches, waiting. Ugh~ this was gonna be so boring~

Miz looked up, to see Stan standing right above her, arms crossed and leaning sideways up against the edge of the bench, looking down at her. He’d been sitting down earlier, over on the opposite side of the bench, before she’d left.

"Kid," Stan said lowly, not looking away from her.

"...Nothing that will have any impact on anything or anyone that you might care about," Bill informed him, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He looked a little sour at their having gotten caught out by Stanley. (The twins looked over at hearing this.)

"Not sure I trust your judgment there, kid," Stan said evenly, and Bill rolled his eyes with his eyes closed.

"She tossed around a couple music college leaflets in front of somebody who was interested in music," Bill informed him dryly. (He’d been tracking her progress in the process of testing out some of the newer and more experimental sensors he’d built into his suit. Because why not? Just sitting in place without thinking- or testing- or calculating-out things was BORING!) "Any major disruptions would take place at least seven or eight years down the timeline."

Stan eyed her for a long moment. "...Yeah, okay," Stan said finally, turning away from the two demons.

Miz blushed.

"She could have a bright future if she knew that following her passion was an option available to her," the dragon defended herself. "Ford wasn't the only one affected by the outcome of this science fair, you know. A lot of the other kids who didn't win or were passed over in favor of the school's top student got discouraged from pursuing their own ambitions…" She winced. "Not that I'm saying it was Ford's fault or anything but more people than just you two had a lot riding on this event… and…"

Dipper stared over at her. "You… really care about this sort of thing?"

Miz continued blushing. "Well, I don't like seeing people give up their creative spirit and passions."

"Muse," was Bill’s one-word contribution to the conversation, patting his sister on the head.

Dipper looked between the two of them almost suspiciously, and then looked up at his Grunkle Stan with concern. This other Bill Cipher had just admitted to going inside and doing… _things_ inside the school. And Grunkle Stan had just taken Bill’s word for it that she hadn’t done anything bad, hadn’t messed with Great-Uncle Ford’s science experiment… This wasn’t right. Dipper looked over at his sister and tugged down on his hat. Mabel gave him a smile, but she looked a little uneasy as well.

"Look, if you're really that suspicious, there's a girl named Sarah Matthews in the school library, trying to decide between three nearby colleges--"

"--Miz," Stan interrupted her. "It ain’t what you say you did, it’s what they don’t know that you also coulda done, too. It’s that geeky problem, tryin’ to prove a negative or somethin’?" Stan told her, looking out across the schoolyard. "You can’t do it. Never works. Don’t even try; tryin’s a waste of time." It was a trap. You couldn’t give somebody evidence that you didn’t do something; you could only try and show that there _wasn’t_ any evidence of the thing… _around_. And then the next thing anybody with half a brain would say to _that_ would be that you could’ve just gotten rid of the evidence -- and you couldn’t prove you didn’t do _that_ , either, without running into the exact same problem. "Either you did, or you didn’t."

Dipper frowned up at Stan, a little upset. At the very least, Grunkle Stan could’ve let her keep talking until they might’ve had something to go on!

Miz closed her mouth and nodded, a little annoyed by the lack of faith. "I glanced at Ford but I actually looked at little-Stan’s project, was more interested in that. I have no interest in that--" Miz stopped when Bill dropped a hand on her head and mussed her hair, hard. Stan gave Bill a hard look, and Dipper looked at both demons suspiciously, as Miz whined, and Bill murmured something to her under his breath. ...Well, Stan was pretty sure Miz hadn’t bothered to mess with the science project. The kid hadn’t been lying, earlier. And Ford would’ve stormed right out of there yelling by now if she _had_ messed with it, Stan figured.

"You should have stayed out here," Dipper told Miz. "--She should have stayed _here_ ," Dipper told Grunkle Stan.

"Yeah, sure," Stan said. "But you didn’t even notice she was gone; I did." Dipper pulled a face.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged another glance, and Dipper was getting ready to settle in to wait for Great-Uncle Ford, when he finally came out. As he approached the two benches, they all stood up. Dipper nearly held his breath, waiting, because...

"Everything is fine," Ford told them, "The project is fine." And he looked as relieved as Dipper had ever seen him, but he also looked… worried? (Dipper couldn’t really explain it; it was almost like Great-Uncle Ford was worried about two completely different things at once? Except not, at the same time?) Dipper glanced over at Mabel, who was giving Great-Uncle Ford a long considering look, and then he bit his lip, because Mabel looked a little confused, too.

"Was everything all right out here?" Ford asked them next, glancing around between them (and sending two glares the demons’ way).

Dipper opened his mouth to say something… then looked up at Grunkle Stan and slowly closed it again.

"Yeah," said Stan. "Nothin’ to worry about." Ford frowned at Stan slightly (and glanced back to Dipper, who shrunk slightly in his seat and shrugged at him oddly), as Stan stretched a little, and scratched at his cheek. "C’mon, let’s leave him to it. Back to the boardwalk," Stan said, rounding them all up and shooing the kids out in front of him.

"More card tricks?" Bill said, eyeing Grunkle Stan and sounding vaguely annoyed.

"Nah," said Stan. "Not unless you want to. Just figured, we’ve got a booth, might as well stay in it. Boat was getting kinda cramped." He figured the niblings might like to see more of the boardwalk, too. Ford could show them around, while he kept an eye on the demons and camped out with them back at the booth.

Miz glanced up. "Could I try some magic tricks?"

Stan looked over at her, surprised. "Don’t see why not. --Maybe show ‘em to your brother, first, before you think about trying ‘em for an audience. Yeah?" He figured that either Miz was good enough that it’d be fine, or she wasn’t up to Bill’s standards of control and timing and that’d keep the two of them more than busy enough for the rest of the afternoon, and well into the evening.

Miz nodded before playing with some flickers of fire between her fingers, each around the size of a candle flame and Stan noticed Dipper and Ford watching her warily as Miz formed more, changing their colors as she went. Before they could say anything, Miz spoke up. "They're all light and no heat. I'm absorbing the thermal energy as they create it. Also, I have a Perception Filter on." She held up a handful of fire, and Bill reached over to run his hand along her palm, ruffling the fire.

"It's colder instead. Might want to be careful with that," Bill pointed out. "Frostbite is a thing!" Miz nodded and wiggled her fingers, the temperature of the fire shifted to be semi-warm but not scorching. "Better?" she asked, holding a handful of rainbow colored flames out. It was similar to what she did at her concerts except the fire at her concerts were a little hotter, mainly because concentrating on the temperature while performing on stage with all the music, dancing and singing at the same time was difficult. As long as the fire was mild enough that no one got seriously hurt, that was all she needed.

However, with humans, she couldn't risk ANY injuries at all. Dipper was staring at the flames with a curious expression. "So… you're going to do fire tricks?"

Miz nodded. "I might need brother's help. I can make the fire but I don't know how to engage an audience the way he does. The only shows I'm used to putting on are my concerts and my cooking shows…" and she didn't really have to interact with her audience in those. There was a distance between them. But performing, right there, in front of people when they would be close enough to touch her… and the only other performance she did was when she was interacting with her summoners, playing up the persona of Bill Cipher as a cool showsman… because that was easier than the alternative. Of interacting with selfish, greedy people as herself.

Of course, this was an entirely different situation, this was about performing to delight people. She liked doing that. She liked seeing people smile. But she didn’t have much faith in her own ability to do so. What if she messed up? What if she accidentally hurt someone?

Bill patted her on the head a few times.

Miz smiled up at him, then took in a deep breath, breathed carefully, and adjusted her flames again. Warm but not hot. All show, no danger. She wanted to prove she could do this! That she wasn't dangerous. Miz glanced over at Bill, as he tested the temperature of her flames again. "I had an idea for making a cool light show. Since the sun would be going down in a few hours, but I can still make it flashy enough to stand out in the daylight," she told Stan. She could do light shows. But… "I’m not sure how to spin it as a magic show though? I suppose I could play with more fire appearing over time? Match it with some music?"

"Music’s good." Bill grinned. Miz laughed softly. "Add some razzle to the dazzle?" she made her flames fan out and shimmer in an array of rainbow colors. There were multiple Touhou boss fight arrays she could play around with here. The soundtrack and attack patterns from [Imperishable Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLXvt-a6hXE) or [Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9D6fj5AUmnM) would be cool too? Would that be too nerdy? Mabel seemed enraptured by the small display already. Miz kept changing her mind about what she wanted to do.

Miz started humming and making her flames dance in tune to the music. "I guess it’s not much of a magic show so much as a fire show?" She turned to Stan. "Think people would pay to see it? I could start small and if they give enough money I can do a big show?"

Stan grunted. "As long as you’re sure you can do it." He wasn't all that sure about her control, given what had happened with those ‘sand waves’ earlier that she hadn’t even seemed to notice she’d been doing. But Bill wasn't frowning, and she hadn’t done anything weird while she’d been all drunk on that chocolate ice cream that afternoon; she hadn’t hurt anyone physically since staying with them as far as he knew, and she didn't seem to want to, either.

Ford stared. "Stanley, you can’t possibly be thinking that she won't hurt anyone, using _fire_ around crowds of humans--"

"Feel it yourself, I’m regulating the temperature so it wouldn’t hurt anyone!" Miz held up her hand.

Ford glared at her. "Oh yes, and any _accidents_ that will inevitably occur later will be _completely_ unintentional on your part," Ford said to her, with a boatload and a half of sarcasm. (He hadn’t missed Dipper’s tentativeness earlier. He didn’t doubt that the demons must have done _something_ objectionable while he’d been off and away indoors.)

Miz seemed like she was going to retort, before she reached a hand up to rub her headband and took a deep breath. "Have you ever thought about, not being so angry all the time? It can’t be healthy for you," she said, instead of whatever comeback she might have wanted to shoot at him instead. Stan let out a grumpy sigh, because he got the feeling that the dragon-lady hadn't _actually_ been trying to piss his brother off more. (Hell, even the kid sent a sideways look at her himself, eyebrows raised slightly, knowing that wouldn't go over well.)

Ford straightened and sent a glare down his nose at her. "Have _you_ ever considered not trying to be a--" but Bill interrupted him with: "--Miz, can you use Illusions instead of actual fire?" Stan actually stared at the kid for the redirect. (That was the sort of thing he usually pulled on the kid with the niblings, when things started to get out of hand. Kid was learning…)

"Sure. I could do that easily." Miz shrugged. Illusions would actually be easier. It was about changing the way the air particles reflected light, mix in some real light from her to encourage the light to shine as she wanted, and... Stan and the niblings raised their eyebrows.

Ford bristled and opened his mouth. "You--!!" but Stan said, "--Ford, _stop_ ," and Ford looked over at his brother, taken aback. "This ain't helping. The kid just handed you a solution, Miz says she'll do it instead of actual fire, the kid can tell the difference if she's just blowing smoke right now, lying; you got what you wanted. _Quit while you're ahead_ ," Stan intoned, giving Ford a long, weighty look... and Ford remembered the last time Stan had told him this. ~~(What had happened out on the porch after--)~~ Ford pulled in a full, deep breath and tried to calm down. It was difficult for him, though.

Ford didn't have to like what his brother was asking him to do, though, overtly and... otherwise. So Ford clenched his jaw and marched ahead, resolving to put on a show of ignoring the demons while still keeping an eye on them, since Stanley somehow was naive enough to believe them when they claimed they were going to do what he wanted, pretending to be ‘reasonable‘, saying they weren’t going to harm anyone--

Miz sighed. Bill ruffled her hair a bit. "Why do you keep trying to talk to him?" he asked her. She seemed to keep expecting a positive response out of Ford for some reason, and Bill simply could not fathom why that was. When his sister just pouted harder, Bill tilted his head at her and eyed her like he was trying to See inside her Mind.

(It didn't occur to Bill that, because she wasn't wearing the glasses he'd made for her, she might still be having what he called a ‘squirmy feelings’ problem.)

Miz shrugged. "Well... he’s stressing himself out too much with his distrust and paranoia. That upsets Mabel."

Bill considered that. ...Well, she wasn’t wrong. The strings of relationships and consequences weren't only a thing just for _him_ because of the agreement; Miz was trying to follow them, too.

While Bill was thinking about that, they made it back to the boardwalk at around the time kids without any after-school activities had managed to ‘escape’ and were beginning to gather at the boardwalk to hang out. Stan wasn't too surprised to see their booth had remained unvandalized in their absence. (It was Jersey in the 1970's, after all.) Stan glanced at Miz. "You think you can do this?" he asked.

Miz nodded. "I can sync the illusion to some music." She Flickered before forming a portable radio. "Is this accurate to what people played music with at this time?"

Stan nodded at her, and looked mildly surprised when Mabel spoke up suddenly, saying: "Whoa, what’s _that_ thing?" with her usual excitement, as Dipper stared at the blocky object. Miz handed it to her. "A portable radio?" Miz told her. "I think I got this right, I was Looking for something I could play music with in this time period." Hm… might be more difficult to match fire shows with music in this time period, unless she found a station with some nice jazz. Or rock?

Miz flicked the radio on and Mabel watched in wonder as she twisted the dials back and forth to try and find a nice station. She was actually tempted to just make a music bubble and use the radio as a front. She could probably sneak in some Postmodern Jukebox covers of modern songs…

She continued to mentally cycle through the elements she would be pretending to burn in order to create realistic-looking flames in the colors she wanted. (Lithium, calcium, sodium, barium, copper… potassium…) Really, what she was doing with her illusions wasn't going to look all that different from what real stage magicians did, in burning metal salts to get their fire to be whatever color they wanted. "I can start small, just making a flame on my finger…"

She waved all the fake fire she was playing with away before making a normal orange-ish flame ignite on the tip of one index finger. "And then just add more and more?" She brought her hands together to tap her index against the one on her other hand, making the flame spread to the other one, then continued tapping her other fingers with them to light them as well. "And I guess I could work my way up from there? Adding colors? I just need to find a song to sync my performance to. Maybe sing my own song if I don't find one that I like?" because if there was music, she didn't need to talk to the audience.

Stan shrugged. "Sounds fine to me." Bill tilted his head at the faked-composition of her illusionary flames. She even had some fake smoke. "Looks INTERESTING to me!" Bill told her with a grin and a voice full of praise.

Miz cheered. She flipped through the radio to try and familiarise herself with the music from this time period, checking for songs she could synch her performance to (wow, alternative universe Queen?). She hummed cheerfully with the music. Bill himself joined in on purpose this time, humming along as well.

Miz could find a song she liked and simply make the radio play that song, as opposed to what it normally would. She could See and record the song she liked and project it out for the performance. That would make things easier to do, right? She was a little giddy with nerves about it.

She finally settled on a nice rock song to use for a big performance. It had a decent beat to bounce along to. She hummed it under her breath as she practiced. Only once their group was back at the booth and she was sure she knew what she wanted to do, did she drop part of the perception filter she had going.

She stood in front of the booth and opened her mouth to try and call for attention but it was pretty loud and rowdy with the large crowd and her soft voice was drowned out. Bill watched her visibly grow more discouraged and shy as time went on. Looked like his little sis needed a bit of help!

Bill pasted on a wide grin and stepped up. Time to show Miz how to draw in a crowd! A few people from that morning brightened up at the sight of his top hat. "Are you going to do another magic show?" One of them asked. Bill grinned and shook his head. " _I'm_ not performing..." He waited for them to look disappointed... "--My dear little _sister_ will be doing so!" he enthused out instead, then waved at Miz with a flourish, presenting her to them as if she was the result of a magic trick he’d done himself.

They glanced over at Miz. She waved, "Hello?" One of the guys in the crowd looked her up and down. She didn't have a hat or even a deck of cards, standing there with nothing but her clothes and a shy expression on her face. "What're you gonna do?" The guy asked.

"Uh, I'm gonna do a fire show." Miz grinned. Then she paused. "Hang on a second…" She leaned over the top of the booth, flicking her fingers and from where Stan was sitting, he saw a sheet of paper materialize before she pulled it out. She placed it in front of Stan on top of the booth. The old man raised an eyebrow. Huh, it was a... permission slip for fireworks? Yeah, wasn’t exactly right, but hey, it was good enough for him. "I got permission an’ stuff," Miz said brightly. Stan gave her a half-smile (covering a snort) and nodded as he took the paper from her… then Stan gestured at the crate-chair on the other side of the counter, to move it to the side as a soapbox stage for her to stand on -- which Bill then promptly picked up and set up for her out in front of the booth.

"Fire show?" a guy asked. Miz nodded as she took a step up, to stand on top of the crate, so what she was doing would be able to be seen by the entire, slowly-gathering crowd of people that, to a one of them, were all a good head taller than her. She flicked her fingers, a soft almost-snap sound later and there was a small flame on her index finger. "Two dollars for a small show, more for a large show. This is just a quick example." She waved her hand, putting the fire out.

Some of the crowd didn't seem all that impressed but one of the locals who had seen Bill’s show earlier just shrugged, walked up to the booth, and slapped two dollars down on the table, before stepping back. Miz took a deep breath. "Ok. One small show." She hummed a [melody](https://youtu.be/GDpmVUEjagg) to herself as she made her hands bounce to the song with her fingers closed in a fist.

"Work it--" a flame appeared on her index finger on her left hand as she flipped it up to point at the sky. "Make it--" the middle finger came up as well so she was now holding her hand in a peace sign with a flame over both fingers. "Do it--" a third finger was now ignited as well. "Makes us--" a fourth finger came up, orange flame flickering to life. She waved her hand around, making the fire flare much higher and brighter "Do do do do do do do do-"

Miz held up her burning left hand and gestured to her right "Harder--" the index finger on that hand popped up and ignited. "Better--" mirroring her other hand, her middle finger went up. "Faster--" third finger. "Stronger--" fourth. She waved both hands around, letting the fire trail through the air like a flickering ribbon. "Do do do do do do do do-"

Miz suddenly clapped her hands together, letting out a burst of flame which made people jump back. She was the one singing it, which means she could just skip right to the chorus. Besides, while a few people looked interested in the show so far, most of them were just thinking things like, ‘Meh. It's just candle flames,’ and that made Miz want to wow them.

She brought her clapped hands apart and all her fingers were now covered in fire. "Work it harder~ make it better~ do it faster~ makes us stronger~" she flicked her hands up with a quick motion and the fire jumped off her hands to impact against each other in midair to explode in a small firework display in tune to her singing.

"More than ever~ hour after~ our work is~ never over!" she clapped her hands to reignite her hands again and threw both hands into the air to make a large firework high in the sky above their heads. All the flames and sparks were yellow and orange-ish so far. As the sparks of the small illusory ‘firework’ fizzled out on its descent, Miz waved the fire off her hands and took a bow. People clapped.

"A short performance. Two dollars," she said as she straightened back up. Then she turned to Bill. "Was that okay?" she asked. Bill grinned and patted her on the head. "You did great!" he told her.

A few people tossed her some more money. "If we pay a bunch, will you do a big performance? Like the other girl?" they asked, glancing at Bill, who smiled a mysterious Cheshire-like sort of smile at them.

Miz nodded. "Sure. I'll make a performance last a full song."

A few more people tossed in some money, Stan watched as Bill gathered it up for her to bring back to the table for her. (It didn't escape Stan that Bill was taking on something of the role for Miz that Stan had done for Bill earlier.) Stan glanced over the money, as Bill handed it over to him. People weren't _as_ excited for Miz’s fire show as they had been for Bill's performance (probably ‘cause they didn’t know what a 'fire show’ meant -- hell, even Stan didn’t), but there was still enough contributed from the crowd to be worth a large show. Stan nodded at him, adding his own ‘okay’ to go ahead with things. (Ford seemed to take that as his signal to get up and stand like a watchdog at the pole at the opposite side of the booth, trying to watch Miz like a hawk, suspicious owl that he was. Stan sighed.)

Miz glanced back, saw that she'd been paid enough (from the nod that Stan gave her) and took a deep breath. She thought through a couple band choices, then ultimately decided on some Queen. --Why not? They existed here (under the name Matriarch), their songs were pretty much the same… and she just needed to decide which song she wanted to use that had already been invented by this point in time. Ugh, she kept changing her mind. She liked jazz too, but swing jazz was different here… you know what? [Flick of the Wrist](https://youtu.be/mrApaXj5QmA) worked. She flicked on her radio and made that song begin playing out over the speakers. Why NOT some Queen? This song was from around this time period anyway...

The piano part started playing and she flickered fire around her fingers and arms, making them change colors all through the visible spectrum. The guitar started as she began to raise her left arm in the air, the fire on her body moving and raising up to gather there. The radio began to belt out the lyrics _"Dislocate your spine if you don't sign he says~ I'll have you seeing double~"_ Miz waved her hand quickly to the side, bringing her other hand up and fanning the flames out sideways to make two equal looking sets of rainbow fire.

As the guitar swelled, she spun her hands around to make the fire cyclone around in the air above her hands, the edges of the flames shot off sparks in time to the drum beat. _"Mesmerize you when he's tongue tied~ simply with those eyes~"_ She made the top of the cyclone explode into some fireworks far above their heads. _"Synchronize your minds and see the beast within him rise~"_ She allowed the sparks to rain down gently around them.

The drums picked up as she waved her hands, reigniting them with red fire in wait for the next line. _"Don't look back!"_ She threw her hands into the air, a large explosion of light going off that bathed them all in a red glow. _"Don't look back! It's a rip off!"_

Miz prepared the next shot, orange this time, flicking it up into the air, as if she was throwing whatever she was using to set off the fireworks _"Flick of the wrist and you're dead baby~"_ She moved a hand to her mouth and inhaled before blowing out through her hands, shooting up green tinted fire. _"Blow him a kiss and you're mad~ oooh wooo ooooh~"_

She shook her hand away from her mouth and ignited it again, flicking her hands to send up more fireworks. This one exploded into the shape of a heart, blue flames. _"Flick of the wrist~ he'll eat your heart out~"_ She trailed her hands up her body, from her sides along the hips, up past her torso, neck, cheeks and head before flicking her hands up to set off the next fireworks. _"A dig in the ribs and then a kick in the head~ he's taken an arm and taken a leg~"_

(Ford was frowning quite a bit by this point, _really_ not liking the lyrics.)

Miz clapped her hands together, sending out another small burst of flame. All of the crowd were standing far back, giving her plenty of space to work, thinking the fire real and not wanting to get burned by it. _"All this time honey~ baby you've been had~"_ She grinned, allowing the fire to creep up along the sides of her arms and begin changing color through the spectrum as she slowly danced. She waved and weaved and wiggled, threw down some colored flame along the ground around her in a circle; jumping down from her crate, the crowd had backed up enough that they could see her even on the ground. _"Intoxicate your brain with what I'm saying~ if not you'll lie in knee deep trouble~"_

__

__

The fire was around her in a circle along the ground now, still shifting in color as her eyes were narrowed in concentration. She wished she could use a Touhou song but those hadn't been invented yet. _"Prostitute yourself he says, castrate your human pride~ ooh ooh~"_ Miz slowly danced around, the fire draping and trailing behind her like a scarf wrapped along her arms. _"Sacrifice your leisure days~ let me squeeze you till you've dried~" She stomped her feet on the ground in tune to the drums, the flames jumping higher and higher along the ground._

__

__

The flames roared into the sky with a particularly hard stomp and exploded into multiple colors _"Don't look back! Don't look back! It's a rip off!"_ She made the fire dance through the air, exploding with the guitar riffs. With a smug grin, she shaped one into a dragon made from yellow flames.

_"Work my fingers to my bones I scream with pain~ I still make no impression~"_ She waved her arms, making the fire dragon fly around as it's edges bled off into sparks of color until it was the skeletal frame of what might have been a dragon, looking like some sort of wire kite that Miz was pulling through the air. _"Seduce you with his money make machine~ cross collaterize~"_ She pulled and made the dragon light up in red flames before exploding. _"Reduce you to a muzak-fake machine~ then the last goodbye~"_

Miz threw more fireworks into the air, making them explode in all sorts of colors for the final chorus. "Flick of the wrist and you're dead baby~ blow him a kiss and you're mad~" The song went on as Miz focused on making a spectacle to end this. She danced, sweeping her leg out to scoop up the fire along the ground and throw the rest of that up into the air as well, jumping back onto her crate for a little extra height.

There was a beautiful explosion of colors that lit up the sky. The last notes of the song faded out. Miz huffed. Everyone was staring up at the sky. ...Well, she hoped they liked it?

The audience clapped and cheered. "How'd you do that?" "Did that burn?" "How'd you get that dragon?" "Where'd you learn to do that?" They began to crowd in, stepping closer, closing in on her. Miz went wide eyed and suddenly wanted to hide behind the counter. They were so close to her. Not even a proper stage and bouncers to keep them away. She backed off a little, unsure how to feel. Stan frowned at the mild distress Miz seemed to be feeling as people stepped closer to her. Was she not good with crowds? Miz backed up but couldn't go anywhere since she was on her crate. "U-um…"

Stan stared. Was she really afraid of the crowd? He saw Ford even beginning to look around warily, putting his hand on his gun--

\--and Stan got up to intervene before they could manage to spook her (or anybody else…) enough to get some kinda fear response from her. Cornered, scared animals weren't good. Stan had a feeling that cornered, scared demons (with a twitchy sci-fi nerd-owl practically standing next to them) would be even worse--

\--but Bill stepped in first, coming up from behind Miz to drop a proprietary hand on top of her head, then step up next to her side. "--Good job, sis!" the kid enthused brightly as he looked down at her with a big grin on his face, taking her attention for himself… and with a set to his shoulders that practically screamed ‘back off or I will cut you’ to anybody else who was paying the _least_ bit of attention nearby…

...and the crowd unconsciously obeyed. Miz relaxed, pressing closer to Bill’s side. "Thanks big brother."

Bill just grinned and patted her on the head twice, then turned away to look to the crowd and said, "Questions? Step right up! -- _One at a time._ " with a fixed smile of warning of an unspecified and unspeakable fate, were his words to be ignored...

The crowd thought better of it and just backed off, unconsciously feeling the pressure in the air.

"No?" Bill asked, swiveling his head to look around. ''That's fine!!" Bill said next. "A magician should NEVER be asked to reveal one too many secrets!" he told them all, then paused for a full second and said, "There will be a ten minute break!" And with that, Bill turned in place and reached down to flip the boombox to a different station and turn up the volume with a flourish.

And then he turned back to Miz still on top of her box, and offered her a ‘gentlemanly’ arm. She took it and stepped down from the crate. She walked with Bill back to the booth and got inside it and behind the table, relaxing once there was an almost-barrier between her and the other people.

Miz dropped down into her beanbag chair and slumped a little as the crowd dispersed. "Sorry. I froze up." She looked down, frustrated at herself. Mabel went up to pat her shoulder. "It's fine! Crowds can be intimidating!" Miz still seemed upset at herself. "I shouldn't be afraid. I shouldn't!"

Mabel pressed her lips together. "Hey, it's ok. Everyone can get a little stage fright?" She asked awkwardly. When Miz didn't see to feel any better, Mabel sighed. "It's ok to be scared. I'm afraid of old special effects animation." That got a small laugh out of the dragon.

"And I'm afraid of cars," Miz admitted.

Mabel blinked (while Stan, Ford and Dipper straightened as they stared at Miz). (Bill slowly closed his eyes and looked like he was getting a headache.) "Really? Cars like the vroom vroom, human cars?" Mabel asked of the human-demon in surprise. Miz nodded.

"Why cars?" Dipper asked the dragon-demon, chiming in because he was confused. He was pretty sure that in a ‘battle’ against a car, a dragon-Miz would win. She was huge!

"It was how I died… back when I was human." Miz said sadly, shivering a little, and Dipper and Mabel both stared at her.

The kid looked like he was struggling with himself over something (...probably worried that the kids might either take advantage, or not take it seriously, if Stan had to guess, maybe; one of the two). And for a couple seconds there, it looked to Stan like Bill was either going to snap at the kids, practically biting their heads off verbally, or grab Miz and… _do **what** , exactly?_

"--Kid, breathe," Stan reminded him evenly.

And Stan waited.

...And after a few moments, the kid slowly dropped his ‘gentlemanly arm’ down and away from her hold, to fall back at his side. He also began breathing a little more evenly and looking a little less like he was going to vibrate his way out of his skin on them. They all took that as a signal that this rather major problem Bill had been having, _whatever_ it was, had now passed.

Once the danger of Bill losing his shit (in the immediate moment) had passed, Mabel went up to Miz to hug her gently. "So you died in a car crash as a human? That must have been scary." she said sympathetically. Miz nodded. "I'm fine with spaceships and hovercrafts but I can't stand cars."

"Ooh!" Mabel said, dropping the hug to clap her hands together excitedly. "Bill could fix up one of the security drones for you when we get back! You could use it as a taxi," Mabel told her, grinning up a storm. Miz smiled back, a little less enthusiastically about it, but glad that Mabel wanted to help. Also, security drones… probably not a good idea.

" _No_ ," Bill said, almost a groan. "I _told_ you, Shooting Star, I am NOT doing that." He was NOT making Shooting Star her own personal autonomous taxi-car-thing for her to hover everywhere in. He did NOT want to THINK about where she and her brother could go in one of those, and what trouble they could get into in town or in the forest, let alone ANYWHERE ELSE they would potentially be able to go in one of those. (...like three states over, in the span of minutes. Or low-earth-orbit in even less time than that...)

Mabel whined. "But… flying!"

Miz looked contemplative. "You could ride on my back?" her dragon form was big enough.

"-- _No flying until you have your shuttle license!_ " Bill insisted, nearly snapping the words out. "Even on friendly intelligent-biologicals. --And no shuttle license until AFTER you have gotten your human car driver’s license LEGALLY, Shooting Star," he added next, crossing his arms and glaring down at her. "I am NOT getting _blamed_ for you flying off and getting you and your sibling KILLED on MY watch using MY TECH," Bill told her, adamant.

Mabel groaned. "No fun~" Miz also pouted. She would have liked to go flying with Mabel.

"...Shuttle license?" Dipper asked, looking between them all. "Like, the Space Shuttle?" he asked, almost positive that was wrong.

Bill rolled his eyes. "No." Bill dropped his arms. He had _far_ higher standards than that! "There’s a programmable simulator in the spaceship," Bill said, and left it at that. (Ford was giving the kid a long, unreadable look now that Stan wasn’t so sure he liked. Just how much trouble was one of these ‘security drone’ taxi things?)

Mabel and Miz were glancing at each other, a silent conversation happening as they each twitched their eyebrows and wiggled their hands in gestures that made no sense to anyone else. Mabel was slowly beginning to grin. Miz nodded, grinning herself.

"Nuh uh," Stan said, picking up on what the two girls were kibitzing on. "Nope. _Don’t even think about it_ , you two." Stan knew what trouble looked like, and those two were planning it. "And _you two_ are already in _enough_ trouble for ending up in another dimension as it is," Stan said next, glaring down at Mabel and Dipper next, quellingly. "You _ain’t_ getting out of _that_ , once we get back, the both of ya." The twins groaned, having hoped Stan had forgotten all about that. (As if.)

"But we just wanted to help," Dipper protested, about the use of the time tape. Stan rubbed his face.

"Yeah, sure," Stan said. "Help yourself right out of _existing_ ," he reminded them heavily, which got a wince out of Dipper. "The science fair thing is fine here, now, sure. _So what._ You think either of us care about that?" he asked them both. "Really care about that? We came here for you two! --And _you two_ are only fine because you got sent to another dimension instead of back in time, or whatever the hell else could’ve happened if the kid hadn’t set things up to bounce you instead of vaporize you instead, or whatever the hell he could’ve come up with that could’ve been a hell of a lot worse." Stan glared down at them both, frustrated beyond belief.

Mabel looked properly chastised. Dipper huffed. "Well at least this world's version of you guys are going to be alright--"

"Yeah?" Stan said challengingly. "Well, great for _them_." He firmed his jaw. "--What d’you think would’ve happened to _**you**_ if I’d asked the kid to look for you and get you two back, and he had said ‘no’?" Stan demanded out of them both, pointing a finger at them both. "Couple of thirteen years olds from 2013 stuck in Jersey in 1971 with _no money_ on ya and _no family around_ to help take care of you?" he ground out.

Miz made a distressed sound. She was holding Mabel's sleeve. "I would have gone to find them…" She shuffled her feet.

Stan looked over at her. "You’re only helping out because of your big brother here," Stan told her. "If you two weren’t all," Stan made a gesture between them, "Would you even have been in Gravity Falls still, the last couple of days?" he asked of Miz, already knowing the answer was gonna be... "Or would you have gone someplace else to wait this broken not-there demon thing out."

Miz paused. "I guess not? Might have gone to explore Earth." She frowned. "But at least things turned out… not awful?" She shuffled her feet again.

"Yeah," Stan said. " _So far,_ " he said, looking over at Bill. "But not because of _them_. They screwed up." Stan turned his gaze back down on the both of them. Dipper and Mabel didn’t look cowed -- of course they didn’t, they were Pines -- but they did look pretty damn uncomfortable finally, the both of them.

"You’re giving Bill an idea of how much leverage he has over you…" Stan heard his brother say under his breath at his shoulder. Stan glanced back over his shoulder at Ford.

"Pretty sure that ship already sailed back when I told the kid to do anything he needed to to find ‘em, Ford," he told him brother in normal tones. "Kid already knows the two of ‘em are my line. Ain’t some big secret, here."

"Admittedly, keeping your family from messing with _themselves_ is beginning to look like a losing proposition, Stanley!" Bill drawled out with a false brightness to his tone that had Stan sending an annoyed glare his way. Miz was glancing off into the distance. A worried frown on her face. "Um… brother? The thing just happened."

"What?" Ford said, with the beginnings of a vague alarm to his tone. "What thing?" But Bill let out a snickering laugh.

"Oh," said Bill. " _That’s_ not the thing," he told her, then added darkly, " _ **WAIT FOR IT.**_ "

Stan clenched his jaw. The kid actually sounded amused for some reason.

"Kid…" Stan began, but he was beaten to it by a frantic and angry sounding Ford wheeling on him and demanding, stomping right up to him and getting in his face, " _What did you DO?!_ "

Bill simply smiled. "I didn’t," he told Ford, with a gleam in his eyes. "And I did. --Do you want to know what I did?" he asked, almost teasingly.

Ford looked fit to strangle the triangle demon with his bare hands outright.

Bill’s smile widened ever so slightly. He leaned forward just a bit and said, "I… came here," he told Ford. "And I found Pine Tree and Shooting Star for you. And I descended upon them like a demon with a mission!" Bill grinned. "And I retrieved them both for _you_ both! --And then I stayed with you and Stanley," he gestured at said Stanley, "Allllll this time," Bill paused. "And while everything else that is going to happen has been going on?" Bill added, inching that little bit closer to Ford’s face. "I _DIDN’T EVEN WATCH._ " Bill breathed out at him, eyelids dipping low. (Bill looked amused as hell; damn near ecstatic. It made Stan want to punch him, even as he watched Bill slowly lean back to upright again, away from his brother.)

Miz was covering her mouth so she wouldn't let anything slip. Brother had asked her not to. Dipper stared at her before he put it together. "Did something happen at the science fair?" Miz's expression gave it away without her even having to say anything.

"And _someone_ is going to get kicked out of the house," Bill said breezily, waving a hand casually in the air. But he still had an amused look on his face as he took a solid step back away from Ford and raised his hands into the air at his sides, palms up, and said, "... _Oops?_ " And the kid was _grinning_ now.

And then the kid had the audacity to turn to Miz and say, "No spoilers!"

Stan gritted his teeth, shoulders rising, fists clenching, and it took everything he had not to step forward and give the kid a good solid punch to the _face_.

...and the kid seemed to realize this as he looked over at Stan and he… paused for a moment.

And then Bill slowly lowered his arms just a bit (his grin and expression lowering a lot more than just a bit...) and the kid said to _him_ a hell of a lot more soberly than he’d just been talking to Ford... "I told you, you can fix it. And I’ll help. When you want me to." (And it was clear to Stan, from the look of the kid, that the kid had some insane idea of his own what that ‘when’ should or was going to be.)

"Brother didn't cause it!" Miz stared at Stan's angry look and defended Bill.

Bill let out a gusty sigh, dropping his hands to his hips and rocking back on his heels. He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "Yes, oh little sister mine. I _think_ Stanley knows that." Miz's gaze darted over to Ford. She made another distressed sound. The type of things going through Ford’s head right now were--

"You let me take point on this, Ford," Stan ground out, not even looking over at his brother. "You understand me? _You let me handle this._ "

Stan heard his brother let out an inarticulate snarl, turn, and stomp off. ...Yeah, that would work.

"Kids, _go with him_ ," Stan said next, and the niblings exchanged glances and hurried off.

That left Stan alone with the two demons in the booth.

" **Sit. down.** " he told them both, glaring.

Miz sat down, looking distressed and worried. She REALLY wanted to tell him. But she would try to keep her mouth shut until brother gave the okay.

Bill sat down almost casually. He looked happy with the state of things and the world in general.

Stan looked over the two of them. He _didn’t_ sit down himself.

"You want to tell me what I’m walking into here?" Stan ground out at them both, but mainly the kid. (He _wasn’t_ going after the kid’s little sister, putting the screws to her and dragging the kid’s ‘family’ into this; the kid had made it clear earlier that he didn’t want Miz saying anything, anyway. Stan had no reason to go that route today, and _every_ reason to stick it to the _kid_ instead.)

The kid looked up at him, unconcerned, and told him: "No." Stan felt himself tense, and had to force himself to unclench his fists. "I told you. You’re a con-man, not an actor," the demon said next.

"...What are you expecting me to do here," Stan said to the kid next. Because he’d be damned if he’d give the kid the satisfaction of running around like some idiot when he--

"I _expect_ you to spend the rest of the day doing... " Bill made a gesture that encompassed the booth in general. "Because _that Stanford_ will _hardly_ want to change things any further, I think."

Stan glared at him.

" _You_ think," Stan said, and the kid nodded at him.

"Yes," the demon kid told him, and that just clinched it for Stan -- the kid _really_ didn’t know his brother **at all**.

"And then, after night falls," Bill continued, "and the beach is empty, I expect that we will go out to the water’s edge, and we will set up a portal, and then…" Bill smiled. Stan didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. He waited the kid out. ...Kid didn’t even look put out as he continued as if he’d never stopped to begin with, saying: "I expect you to _stop_ and _listen_ and _fix things_ ," the kid stressed, and the kid wasn’t exactly smiling anymore. He looked downright serious, and his eyes looked deep and full of-- _spiders_ \-- ...And Stan couldn’t help but lean away from the demon slightly, at the look in the kid’s eyes as he watched the kid put his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands, and leaned forward, to say, " _I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO IT._ "

Stan didn’t quite stifle a shiver. "...How are you expectin’ me to fix things," Stan said almost flatly next. And he felt another chill go through him as the kid just _lit up_ , and the next thing he got out of the kid was a delighted chittery _giggle_.

"I **DON’T KNOW!!** " the kid told him, eyes wide and bright, and grinning like a maniac. "But I want to SEE!" the kid told him next, looking excited, almost bouncing in place. "I want to SEE you FIX THINGS!"

And that… just drained the fight right out of him. Stan stared down at the kid in pure, dumb disbelief.

"Can we bring Stan to see what happened at the science fair?" Miz suggested. "Just so he can see what the damage is?" in more ways than one.

"Later, _maybe_ ," Bill said absently. "Better if it’s a surprise! Don’t want that idiot Stanford getting involved and messing things up," Bill said darkly. "Making things even worse. --No," Bill said, "Better to wait until tonight. Let the dust settle. --Just in case!" Bill all but chirped out, and it left Stan half-drowning in a stewing sea of mixed emotions all over again.

"You want me to _wait_ ," Stan ground out at the kid, and the triangle demon actually _nodded_ at him.

"It _could_ resolve itself on its own?" the kid told him, cocking his head to the side. "I wasn’t completely sure when the project would break! ‘If’ was a longshot possibility," Bill told him, "But not an absolute zero! They _could_ fix things," the kid told him, "All on their own. But…" the kid trailed off almost leadingly, ticking his head from side to side.

Stan had to fight down a grimace. "...You don’t think so," Stan said in descending tones, sitting down heavily on one of the beanbag chairs. He watched as Bill nodded at him, looking downright overstimulated, higher than high-energy here, and Stan ran a hand over his face. ...Hell, Ford _had_ warned him. He’d signed up for this. The kid’s ‘not a game’ penalty-game gambling bet, here. For _rushing_ him to get here, to get back the kids right away without… (stopping to think, or to listen to the kid first, before jumping out to other dimensions that the kid thought were his area of expertise. Stan had figured that part out of it, finally. Hadn’t taken him more than a few hours after a decent amount of sleep and a bit of time to actually sit down and think, while his hands were busy with shuffling and shuffling and reshuffling cards, but… it sure as hell didn’t make him any happier to have figured out _that_ much of it.)

The only thing left for Stan to decide was… did he say ‘the hell with it’ and give up, refusing to play? Or did he see it through?

...Yeah. Like _that_ one was a choice.

Stan dropped his hand and looked up at the triangle demon sitting right in front of him. "You are damn well helping me with this," Stan said quietly, because damn if he was going to let the kid off the hook. Not for this. _Never_ for this.

Ruining people’s lives… this hit _far_ too close to home. (...Did _Ford_ feel like this _all the time_ , when the triangle pulled this shit on other people? ...Or when the triangle had pulled this on _him_ directly? --Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit.)

To this, Bill nodded, bright-eyed and seemingly still perfectly 'happy’ to help Stan out with fixing this gigantic mess. (Which he'd let happen. Because…)

Miz gave Stan a reassuring smile. "I'm sure you can figure out what to do." She frowned. "Can I give hints? Later?" she asked of the kid, and Stan wasn’t sure if he was being pitied or not. (Either way, Miz seemed to want things to go well, too -- not just the kid, who was wanting him to ‘fix it’.)

"Uh…" Stan began.

"--Later-later," Bill cut in. "Once I tell you. I’ll tell you when it’s most safe," Bill told his sister, and that had Stan pissed off all over again. Stan almost snapped out at him that _he_ would decide when-- "Least chance of negative impact on my Zodiac, and the two younger local twin Pines," Bill continued, and Stan damn near bit his own tongue, with how hard he clacked his jaw back shut.

Stan forced himself to stop and take a breath, before he said to the kid: "I should get a say in this. It’s _my_ call, and my play. My fix. Yes?" Stan said heavily. Bill looked surprised. Damnit. "I’ll ask you to weigh in first," Stan told him. "But it’s _my_ decision. --You’re on _my side_. **Got it?** " The kid looked almost taken aback, and then squared his shoulders, looking combative, then-- ...stopped. And Bill frowned, looking down at the ground, looking almost contemplative.

There was a long silence.

And then the kid’s posture shifted, just slightly.

And the kid looked up at him, eyes dark and deep again. Serious again. And the kid nodded, once.

Stan slowly let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. He hadn’t been sure he’d be able to take the reins back that easy, if at all. Kid was kicking him for a loop, here, and with the ‘little sis’ in the mix, now… damn near everything was almost out the window, now. At least with how he’d been handling things before. Whole thing now was a wreck.

"Alright," Stan ground out. He needed a breather, needed to get his head screwed back on straight. (He needed the kids. ~~And maybe a hug or two.~~ ) "I’m gonna go and catch up with Ford and the kids. Where are they."

"End of the boardwalk," the kid told him promptly. "Pine Tree and Shooting Star are trying to talk him out of going to ‘talk’ to that local Stanley."

Stan didn’t even question how the kid knew this. He was up and out of that booth like a shot.

The look on Miz’s face showed how much she was unwilling to let Ford do that, herself. "Of course he immediately blames Stanley for it!" she huffed out, as she and Bill slowly got to their feet. Bill shrugged at Miz's annoyance, and they left the booth together to follow after Stan at a more reasonable pace.

\------

"Ford!" Stan caught up and took his brother’s shoulder, turning him around. Ford tried to shake him off. The kids were already holding Ford’s hands, tugging at him (and talking to, if not complaining worriedly, at him) to try and get him to stop moving forward as well.

And with the three of them now holding on to him, Ford finally stopped trying to move forward and simply commanded: " _Let go_ , Stanley! I have to--!"

"--Have to _what_ Ford?" Stanley gripped his brother's shoulder more tightly, debating on whether to grapple with Ford if he needed to. "Go run down and yell at a teenage boy who don't even know who you are, other than some kinda boat pirate? --What are you even going to do? Scold him? Scream at him?" (...Punch him in the face?)

Ford bristled and drew himself up, struggling again -- not quite hard enough to break free, though, because the kids were still holding onto him for all they were worth and he didn't want to hurt them. "He broke--!"

"Funny how he immediately blames Stan for it. Without even knowing what happened." Miz huffed as she and Bill caught up, as they walked over. Frankly, that was just biased of him.

"Hilarious, not funny," Bill amended, then shrugged. "He's working off of what _very_ little he knows." The adults didn't seem to be listening to either of them -- too mad at each other -- but Dipper (and Mabel) heard them. The teenager looked over at the two demons and frowned.

"--What did you do?" Dipper demanded, narrowing his eyes at Bill, who let out a single laugh.

"I told you all, I didn't do ANYTHING," Bill told him. Then he paused for a moment and added (for completeness), "Miz didn't do anything either." The smaller demon nodded, snuggling Iseblonker. Dipper made an aggravated sound, not believing them in the least!

"--isn't important right now!" Stan yelled out at his brother, and that finally got Ford stopping in place for good, instead of running off, got him actually turning around and _looking_ at him.

"How is this not important, Stan?!" Ford shouted out at him, and the kids let go (and moved away to stand little behind their grunkle). "Y-- the other Stan broke the project--!"

Stan clenched his teeth as he stared his brother down. "--Gettin’ the kids **home** is more important right now," Stan told Ford firmly, gesturing down at the niblings at his sides. "I can fix whatever the heck happened here after we do that." And he was damn well going to _MAKE_ Bill help him, if it came to that. (Serve the demon right if he didn't like what Stan came up with for him to do, and had to get punched in the face a couple of times before he finally said ‘yes’ to it.)

Ford blinked, taken aback, and looked down at the twins. "I…"

Stan wasn't sure what that expression on Ford's face was about but he pulled in a breath and nodded, feeling relieved and a little glad that his brother was _finally_ calming down enough to think a little better. "Yeah. The kid's eye should be healed up enough sometime later this afternoon, so we can go home sometime in the next couple of hours. He’ll be able to do the portal then."

Ford finally noticed the demons were there, standing off to the side, watching him and his brother with interest and boredom, respectively. He scowled. "And you are waiting until nightfall for Bill’s ‘help’ _why?_ " Ford demanded of his brother. He could hardly believe that Stan still thought that Bill was going to keep his word! --Because when nightfall came, and Stan expected Bill to open that portal… (Stan would finally get to experience a _real_ bout of Bill’s derisive and gleeful laughter for the very first time, Ford was sure of it. ~~Not that that was something that he would wish on anyone, but his brother was willfully--~~ )

"You want to have to deal with a bunch of the locals seein’ one of the kid’s portals come out of nowhere?" Stan told him. "They barely kept off him for the hat trick!"

"That’s not--" Ford began.

"Ford, you let me handle this," Stan said again, and Ford fumed in place.

"You can’t trust him," Ford said firmly.

"Who said anything about trusting me?" was Bill’s straight-faced contribution to the discussion, which had both Stan and Ford looking over at him.

" _Not helping_ , kid," Stanley said, sounding more than a little incensed. Bill saw Miz frown-pout up at him in clear disapproval too, and blinked.

Bill glanced between the two of them for a moment.

"......Apologies," Bill said after a long moment to Stanley, before falling silent again.

Ford glared at Bill, not trusting the demon in the _slightest_.

Stan finally let go of Ford when it seemed like his brother wasn't going to immediately run off.

"The kids come first, Ford," Stan repeated firmly. "We get them back home; worst-case, we can come back here later if we have to, to fix things later. I can have the kid pick the time."

Ford gave Stan a dead-eyed thousand-yard stare for that one.

Stan took a step forward, patted Ford's back, and took him by the arm to start steering him toward the beach. "Come on. Let’s go." Stan didn't even glance at the demons as he did it. As far as he was concerned, he had a good plan of attack here: he’d get the niblings home first, poke his head through and make sure they were settled, and then he'd stay here for a little longer with the triangle demon and do whatever fixing that he needed to do, that the demon-kid was so sure that he could do, even if the kid had no idea what or how. (Maybe even get some help from Ford for that, if his brother was still speaking to him after all this. ...Because fixing things here couldn't take more than an hour or two, right?)

But damn if this whole thing didn't piss Stan off.

The kids started moving, but Stan startled and had to stop in place as he pulled at his brother’s arm and… got nowhere at all. The hell? "--Ford, we’re going back to the beach," Stan said, turning back towards him.

"No," said Ford, jerking his arm out of his hold.

Stan stared at him.

"What?" said Stan.

The children were hanging back, worried and really hoping there wasn't going to be another fight. Miz groaned. "Look, do you guys want to See what happened? Would that… help?" she suggested. Bill shushed her. Miz frowned. "Can I at least show them how it happened back in _this_ Stan’s past? So at least they know what they have to compare to?"

"What part of ‘no spoilers’ do you NOT understand?" Bill said to Miz, looking tense, at the same time as Ford yelled out at her, "-- _I wouldn’t trust you to show me that the **sky** is blue!!_"

Stan whipped his head around and glared at the demons, then back at Ford.

"Kid," Stan barely managed to get out in a flat tone with seething, "Get your sister under control." The absolute _last_ thing any of them needed was for that demon to go off showing them all exactly whatever the hell had happened in the gymnasium with that science fair project, like a home movie from hell. It would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull, _and then some_ \-- to Ford, _and_ to him.

Miz wilted. "I thought it would help? Would it not?"

"-- _No_ ," said Bill.

"Oh, on the _contrary_ \--" Ford said in a tone dripping with venom (as he shook in place with rage), which had both Dipper and Mabel wincing.

"NO," said Bill, stomping forward to get up into Ford’s face, shoulders squared, moving _between_ him and Stanley. "You hear me, Stanford? NO--"

Stan shoved himself between them both.

" _ **Get out of the way**_ ," Ford ground out at Stan, looking like the spectre of death come calling.

"We are not doing this," Stan said to Ford in flat tones. "Not here, and not now."

Ford looked fit to punch him in the jaw. "Why are you _listening_ to _him?!_ " he demanded from Dtan.

"Kid," Stan ground out, not breaking eye contact with his brother. "One reason why you think it’s a bad idea for Ford to see what happened the way the dragon-lady is talking about it. --The best one you’ve got. Right. Now."

"--No timeloops to fix anything," Bill said immediately, sounding a little bit tense. "It’ll set in place what we all see, since Miz will have _Seen_ it, to be showing us _that_. I wouldn’t even be able to use an illusion to cover the actual things up later, to distort her sight, to make a nonlinear time loop, to make it all work!" Bill told them. "If you want to fix THAT from happening," Bill said, " _That_ will be out if she Looks and Sees it. --Which is _WHY_ I keep told her to wait until I know when and whether it's safe to do!"

"That why you weren’t watching, kid?" Stan said next, still looking at Ford.

"...It was one reason among many," Bill said tersely. He didn’t exactly sound happy about _something_ or another in there, though, and that had Stan’s eyes sliding sideways a bit, even though he couldn’t see Bill that way -- kid was _literally_ at his back right now.

"Stan…" Ford said in warning tones.

"We ain’t doing this, Ford," Stan told him staunchly, looking back to his brother. "You sure as hell ain’t **torturing** yourself with seeing _that_ , and _I’m_ sure as hell not going to let you go off half-cocked on anybody when we don’t know what the hell happened, if anything." Stan glowered at his brother. "Unless you’re really trusting the _dragon-lady_ on everything now, all of a sudden," since she had been the one to say that something had happened.

And Stan saw his brother fight the urge to punch him in the jaw just then.

He _also_ saw his brother barely keep in some complaint or another, too. Probably somethin’ to do with the kid more or less ‘confirming’ what had just happened with the project… except the kid _hadn’t_ really. ...Not to Ford. And not to him. The demon had been bouncing all around it.

Something was really off, and the kid wasn’t talking. _Yet._ But--

"You let me handle this, Ford," Stan repeated.

"We leave **now** ," Ford demanded. "If you _really_ care about getting the kids home that much?" Ford said as if it was a challenge, tilting his chin up slightly while leveling a glare at him, "Then do it _now_. --Bill said he would be fine this afternoon, didn’t he? But he wants to wait until this evening! --We leave _now_ ," Ford demanded.

Damn it. "--That’s _why_ we’re not leaving until evening, Ford," Stan ground out at him. "Kid said he’d help me with anything after that. And we aren't gonna be able to handle a bunch of lunatics rushing us, if we do this thing out in broad daylight." (Forget those perception-thingies that the demons could do; that wouldn't help his argument, so Stan left that out.)

"That isn’t a reason; that’s an excuse. Bill _won't_ help you with anything, evening or not, and Bill's blocked things from sight using magic before. He could even set it up in some of the caves nearby, if he's been trying to claim that he couldn't have both spells going at once for some reason," Ford said shortly.

"I don’t want the kid risking breaking his eye over nothing, Ford." The way the kid had talked about (and around) the problem before, it had sounded like his eye might end up permanently damaged if he pushed things too much, too quickly. (And Stan knew damn well that that'd just about be a deal-breaker -- or agreement breaker-- for the kid. He wasn't risking it.)

"We can wait a couple more hours, just to be sure that he can’t screw this thing up by us _rushing_ him again," Stan told him. Because for all he knew the kid might need his eye working right to make the portal work right, and... "The dragon-lady can’t make this one." Hell, it wasn't like the project at the 'fair could get any more broken _now_ than it already (probably) was... "We went over this." Because Stan had. He'd finished filling Ford in on things last night on the roof, after both the kids and demon-kids had fallen asleep. (Ford hadn’t been much more pleased with him then than he was with all this right now; just marginally a little less angry and less likely to punch him in the face in the next two seconds over it.)

Stan needed them to wait until dark. The kid wasn’t talking yet. _Maybe_ the kid would help a lot on his own or _maybe_ Stan would have to be 'convincing’. Whatever. Stan could handle it. --The main thing here was that the kid _had_ given him a clue. A ‘hint’.

Stop. Listen. Fix things. On the beach, after dark. ...After the portal was open.

The kid was expecting something important to happen after nightfall on the beach. Something he thought Stan might shrug off and ignore, probably depending on what else was going on with his family. So if they left before then...

The kid had promised to help as much as Stan wanted _until they got home again_. Poking his head through the portal for a second or two was one thing, but if Stan left and then came back with him later… he wouldn’t have the blank check the kid had written him anymore. He’d ‘only’ have the ‘wanting him’ thing to go off of (which did who-knew-what for him), and the agreement -- which didn’t extend that far -- and since he had _no idea_ how far this ‘wanting him’ thing might actually go or get him...

Stan might not know that, yet, and he wouldn't until they were all back home; he had no idea how useful that might be later. ...But he _did_ have an idea of how far he could take things with the kid _right now_.

"I am _not_ going back to the beach," Ford said emphatically. "I am _going_ to that school, and I am _going_ to--"

"--No, you’re not," Stan told him firmly, pissed off that Ford was _still_ acting like a big fat jerk, _still_ treating this stupid thing like it was his _own_ project that had gotten broken again -- Stan hadn't missed those little 'slip-up's of Ford's -- and _**still**_ not listening to him! It had Stan getting angrier by the second, fists clenched, and barely squashing it down. "You are not going to that school, or anywhere else."

"Oh, yes I am," Ford said, with a mirthless chortle at him.

Stan gritted his teeth.

"No, you’re _not_ ," Stan repeated again, clenching his fists that much tighter.

"Oh?" Ford said. He took a step forward and got right up into his face. (Miz tried very hard not to find Ford's expression aesthetically attractive, hell, Stan's expression was pretty hot too. GODDAMN sexy Pines men!)

"And how, exactly," Ford said, slowly and ponderously, "Do you propose to stop me?"

"What," Stan said, tilting his chin up at his brother. "Because you think you can just, kick my ass and run right over me?" When _he_ was the one holding all the damn cards in every last deck? --Yeah, _right!_

Ford narrowed his eyes at him.

Stan smiled.

It wasn’t a very nice smile, and he knew it.

"We," Stan told his brother. "Are _going_ to _talk_." Because like _hell_ he couldn’t win a verbal fistfight without resorting to actual fists, screw him. "We are _going_ back to the booth right now. And I _will_ drag you back there by your stupid ‘adventuring’ boots if I have to, just _watch me_."

And Ford had the audacity to make a scoffing noise at him.

...right up until the moment Stan dryly informed him _exactly_ how he was going to do it.

And then the _REAL_ argument began.

(Miz was glad she had her headband on.)

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Woo! Another chapter done! Ok, how much do we have to go...  
> *looks at the BlueBill Arc notes*  
> Uh....like... ten more chapters to go?  
> Oh well, to keep the readers waiting for the Triplet Arc from dying of suspense, Frosty and I will probably post something for THAT crossover sometime next, next week? Yay! More editing!
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  *looks at the _actual_ end chapter count*
> 
> *starting laughing hysterically*


	12. Chapter 81: Who’d give up everything for their dumb sibling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> What happens when you realize things are fucked up and that you can't fix it because the fuck ups NEEDED to happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 92 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/44644144). It was first posted on May 13, 2019.

\-----

The two old men were outright shouting at each other now.

Bill looked over at Miz. Miz placed a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Do you and Dipper want to…" she grimaced. Miz didn't like the sound of people arguing. And there was no convenient window for her to fling herself out of this time.

"--Miz, don’t _ask_ ; just WALK," said Bill, walking over to Pine Tree to grab his shoulder and steer him away from the yelling match himself, making a gesture as he went with a soft ‘click’ under his breath (tossing up a spell that would mute their own voices).

"No!" Mabel cried out, pushing back at her. "We should try and--"

"We are not stopping them," Bill said, all but dragging Pine Tree along by the shoulder, as he tried to resist the motion. "We are walking away and not interfering." To Bill, he was stating a fact that he was making (clear was already) true ~~(for courtesy)~~. (They would stop fighting faster _WITHOUT_ the interference muddying the waters ~~and potentially changing the supposed direction of the fight~~ yet again. Maybe.)

"GRUNKLE STAN!!!" Mabel called out, then looked shocked as she realized that he hadn’t even heard her.

(Bill made a ‘tsk’ing sound under his breath. --What was Shooting Star thinking? Every time she’d seen them fighting before, she and her sibling hadn’t been able to stop them -- the aftermath of that Stanford’s arrival through the portal, the Zodiac circle in the Fearamid… and just now. They hadn’t actually stopped that Stanford from heading for the school; he’d been dragging them along. And this time… -- _Neither_ of them had been listening to either Pine Tree or Shooting Star at that point, really. What did she think would happen? That they’d simply stop fighting and make up, just for her? Because she asked them to?)

"Let us go!!" Dipper demanded, and he felt Bill twitch for a moment, almost stop in place, before shaking his stupid blue-haired head and forcing him along again further.

"You haven’t seen them _actually_ fight before," Bill informed him dryly. "You do NOT want to see this. THEY will not WANT you to see this." He paused for a moment. "STANLEY will not."

"Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford love each other!" Mabel began. "They aren’t going to--"

Miz shook her head. "They're… this is gonna get messy…"

"--Don't sugarcoat it, Miz," Bill said flatly, as he forced them to keep moving. "You want to know how Stanley got that ‘tattoo’ of his?" he told Pine Tree as he forced him along, as Miz pushed and herded Shooting Star along a little more gently than he was. "Or should I say _burn mark?_ \--Surprise-surprise: _his own sibling_ pushed him against the side of a control panel, into a burning hot sigil! And when he screamed? _He shoved him up against it even harder_." Bill frowned. "And _then_ he finally let go. ...After awhile."

The twins both went pale. "Th-that--" Dipper stuttered, while Mabel said shakily, "--You’re _lying!_ "

"HA!" said Bill mirthlessly. " _That was what happened._ " And he’d been about as specific as he could be while describing both events as generally and accurately as possible in their own native language.

Miz frowned. Wait, didn’t Ford apologize after? And… _that_ Stanford had only pushed harder by accident, while trying to shove himself away across the floor, while Stanley’s _real_ brother had… But more than that, she interjected: "Would this knowledge be a mental attack?" She looked at Mabel with worry.

Bill looked over at Miz.

"Safety of those in the priority-order-list trumps accidental and non-fatal attacks," Bill told her. "It is ‘not an excuse to do a thing’, Stanley said. But if their lives are in danger, hurting them a little to keep them from maybe- _DYING_ is something Stanley agrees is ‘a thing’. ...Though I may still get a learning-lesson on how to do it 'better’ instead, later." Bill rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

Miz nodded to show she understood. "If they start fighting, these two might get hurt. And that would hurt the two of them more than any burn, bruise, or punch to the face."

"Yes," Bill agreed. "--Especially if you try to run between them when they’re throwing punches and kicks," Bill said to his younger Zodiac directly. "That Stanford does NOT hold back enough. He will aim and try to hit with the force he wants," Bill said, "And if you get in the way… he would _not_ EXPECT that. He is not Stanley." Stanley made a point of being ready to pull back, just in case; he generally didn’t want to kill anyone he might be fighting with, and he fought with that always in mind. Bill knew; he’d Seen it in the way Stanley fought many times over. "--That _Stanford_ would NOT be ready to pull back in time. Stanley can take a punch that would KILL either of you," Bill told them. " _Several._ \--You ARE NOT getting in-between them right now!" Bill insisted.

Mabel seemed very distressed but aside from clutching the edge of her sweater, she gave no further complaints. But she hated this. She hated _all_ of this! She hated when her favorite grunkles fought.

"We could at least try!" Mabel said, looking up at Bill in frustration.

"You just did," Bill said succinctly, looking down at her. "How well did THAT work out for you," he said next, as if pointing out the obvious, gesturing demonstratively with his free hand back at the now-arguing ( _still_ arguing) pair.

Dipper shivered a little at Bill’s words, but then he glanced back (following Bill’s gesticulating hand) and suddenly realized how far away from his family the demons were _actually_ taking them. --Their great-uncles were over by the mouth of the alleyway where they’d left them, well-past the transition from beach to city suburbs, while _they_ were... almost back to the boardwalk!

Dipper yanked against Bill’s hold and let his legs collapse under him, almost kneeling in place, forcing his full-weight down against Bill’s hold. --He might not be able to beat Bill in a straight-up punching match, even if he wanted to risk what breaking the agreement right _now_ might do. But if Bill wanted to drag him someplace away from his family, he’d have to literally _drag_ him away to do it. (--He was _not_ going to let Bill drag him and his sister off to who knew where without a fight!)

Bill stopped walking and looked down at him, clearly annoyed and a little on-edge. (Miz came to a stop as well, looking back at them.) Dipper glared right back up at him.

"We are sitting down right here," Dipper said, about as firmly as he could, even though his voice was shaking a little. (Because it had just occurred to him that with Grunkle Stan unable to hear them right now and not watching, and Bill able to make ‘perception filter’ spells that kept anyone from _seeing_ anything either, once Bill _started_ something...)

"Are we," Bill said, giving Dipper a long expressionless look. (Dipper swallowed hard, but held his ground, thinking of Gideon, of those gnomes, of the security drones in the spaceship...)

"You aren’t scaring our great-uncles again, by dragging us out of their sight!" Dipper protested to Bill next. (He was trying to fight the panic that was creeping up on him that if Bill wanted to, he could ‘disappear’ with him and his sister and NOBODY would be able to see them, to interfere, he didn’t know what to do if Bill… could they even _fight back?_ Even if they were able to beat Bill before, to beat him again might be almost impossible, because Miz--)

Dipper glanced over at Miz, and Miz nodded to Dipper, forming a little chair for Mabel out of sand. She was fine with stopping if they wanted. And she didn't want to see the sheer panic that would engulf the old men if the children disappeared on them again. (What had happened at the Shack right before they'd left had been bad enough…)

"No?" Bill crouched down in front of him, and gave Dipper a long look, level with Dipper’s own eyes. "Not even if it _stops them fighting_ and has them working TOGETHER again to find you?" Bill said, eyes and voice flat. Mabel looked over at him and shivered, looking shocked.

"No," said Dipper, glaring at him. "We are not doing that to them. That’s _horrible_. You’re horrible."

Bill smiled. (Weirdly, it was more of a grimace than his usual smile, though.)

"Fine," Bill said, straightening a bit, not letting go of his arm as he dropped down right where he was crouching, to sit down cross-legged on the ground right next to him. "We sit and wait HERE." The dream demon made another gesture, and the sound of the fight dropped significantly, to the point that -- loud as it still had been at this distance -- it was barely even audible anymore.

"Miz? Come over here and sit by me, if you please?" Bill said next, as he looked around and over to his sister, then blinked as he saw the full tea party table and chairs she had just set up for them all while he hadn't been looking.

"Ah," said Bill, confused for a moment as he tilted his head around, trying to take it all in. Miz had all but shoved Mabel down into a chair of her own at the table, but his demonic sister was now dragging her own chair over closer to where Bill was sitting on the ground. A set of tea cups were sitting happily on a tray on the table, looking ready to be passed around.

Mabel, feeling uneasy as she sat in her chair at the table, looked around at everything, all cutesy and nice. But she was too distressed to really appreciate any of it, not even the chicken-shaped teapot. She got the feeling that Miz was probably trying to either cheer her up or distract her with cute things? But it just felt so _artificial_ and jarring! Her grunkles were yelling and fighting like they wanted to start punching each other, and Miz wanted to have a _tea party?_ Like nothing was wrong? Like-- like--

Mabel shook her head, feeling sick as she wrapped her arms around her middle, because it was-- it was like Miz didn't care, like she was just, just _lying_ and going through the motions, like she really thought tossing a bunch of cute things at her would make her happy and make her not want to get up and leave! Like turning away from everything and not hearing or seeing anything and _not caring_ could make it all _okay_. Trying to make everything that was so horrible seem like it was good and fine instead, just like-- like _Bill_ and…

...his bubble. The prison bubble.

And Mabel shivered in place where she sat.

Miz seemed pick up on Mabel's displeasure and winced. "Too much?"

Mabel felt like screaming as she made the connection to Bill’s bubble, and she looked around at the table again.

\--And then Mabel abruptly shoved herself out of her chair and then kicked the chair over angrily. She wasn't going to do this! (Not again!) This _wasn't_ okay! " _Dipper!_ " She felt like _crying_. She stomped away from all the tea table stuff quickly and over to her twin brother--

But then Mabel came to a halt almost mid-step as she realized that Dipper was sitting _right next to_ \--

Miz waved the tea party back into sand, reabsorbing the bonds between the molecules until it crumpled into sand again. "Sorry…"

Mabel shuddered and leaned away from where the tea set had been -- there and then gone again just as easily as Bill's bubble had been popped. She shivered again at she looked between Bill and her brother.

"...Dipper?" Mabel pleaded.

Dipper didn’t hesitate; he pulled away from Bill immediately to get up to walk over to his sister. He glanced back over his shoulder as he did so, to see Bill watching him, but the demon didn't try to grab at him again or otherwise try to stop him.

Dipper reached his sister quickly, and as he hugged his sister, and his sister hugged him back hard. --He didn’t blame her. This was getting scary.

Dipper tried to take a deep breath, to calm down and _think_. He couldn’t think when he was panicking, and he really needed to figure out something that would work, stat!

Because Dipper hadn’t been alone anyplace with Bill since Bill had been back. Not _really_. Mabel had always been with him, and somebody had always been watching them, or really close by. (Mabel had gone to the spaceship lab with the dumb dorito chip a couple of times alone now, sure. But Grunkle Stan had talked about ‘guidelines’ and ‘guardrails’ for Bill, and Bill not ‘playing to an audience of one’ the same way as he would if they were both together, and a whole bunch of _other_ junk that… hadn’t really made Dipper feel better, even if Mabel had always come back safely so far.)

Bill was still _super_ -dangerous. And none of them knew _why_ Bill seemed to like the idea of effectively torturing him -- and Great-Uncle Ford -- **for fun** , _or_ why the stupid dorito seemed perfectly okay with treating Grunkle Stan and Mabel ‘on the level’ instead -- just that Bill _did_. So Grunkle Stan had said not to push it, that him being alone with Bill was a bad idea, that Bill was mostly trying to get a rise out of him when he could even when his sister was around -- maybe _especially_ then… --And Grunkle Stan had said that he was working on something that would make Bill want to do that less, but that he just wasn’t there yet. (Grunkle Stan had wanted him to try and trust him on that enough to wait -- and that Mabel would be okay alone with him in the meantime -- but… it had been hard. And Mabel disappearing places with the dumb dorito hadn’t helped!)

Yes, they’d been out on deck with the two demons before, yesterday, _without_ Grunkle Stan or Great-Uncle Ford out on deck with them, but… they'd only been below deck and their great-uncles would’ve heard them and come running if they'd yelled. And Bill hadn’t really been _doing_ anything then, everything had been mostly about Miz; Bill had been all ‘low energy’ and fallen **asleep** on them, even. --But Bill was **_completely_** off the rails now; he was even casting spells without talking to Grunkle Stan first! And Bill had blocked them from trying to get Grunkle Stan’s help or interfering ‘no’s now, with some kind of silence-sound spell -- their grunkle hadn't looked over at Mabel at all when she'd yelled, and neither had Great-Uncle Ford -- and _Bill_ was obviously in charge here right now, and...

...sitting on the ground watching them both. Wait. Why _hadn’t _Bill done anything yet?__

____

____

Dipper glanced back over at Bill. He’d been near-terrified once Bill had started dragging them both off that if he wasn’t careful, then the dumb dorito might think it was more fun to just torture him in front of his sister instead of-- ...But Bill wasn’t trying to… really _do_ anything right now. _Was_ he?

Why not?

\--Not that Dipper was _complaining_ (!), but… since when did Bill _stop_ \--

...Except Bill **did** stop sometimes, now. This had started out feeling like that fight with Bill after the water hose out on the yard, before he and Mabel had even known about the agreement, really. (Not any of the others; they still got into fights with Bill sometimes, even if Bill didn’t call them that -- and Grunkle Stan didn’t either, so that the agreement was still on.) --Bill hadn’t really been holding back much then, and it had been scary as heck fighting him, but… Bill had stopped before Wendy had done anything; before she’d _had_ to do anything. (Heck, Dipper wasn’t even sure if Bill had realized that she’d come out onto the porch; Bill had stopped, so she hadn’t yelled out, but…)

If Bill was stopping on his own, and not even that angry with them, then… was the crazy dream demon actually following the agreement still? Or _trying_ to?

Dipper pulled in a breath.

"Bill, you-- you’re still listening to ‘no’s and ‘stop’s, right?" Dipper said with a slightly-cracking voice, staring at the triangle demon. Because if Bill was _doing things_ now, but not actually **trying** to break the agreement, just getting everything really wrong _like the stupid dorito always did_ \--

"Yes," Bill said slowly, looking between him and his sister. "I am still listening to ‘stop’ and ‘no’."

" _Good_ ," Dipper said shakily, letting out a rush of breath (so did Mabel) as he and his sister sat down on the hard ground below them. "--You'd better," Dipper added, not quite clutching his sister to him in their hug, "Or Grunkle Stan will get mad." (Dipper tried to reinforce that idea, just in case -- that consequences were a thing, because Grunkle Stan had told them that… --And Grunkle Stan _would_ get mad at Bill if the triangle demon did something horrible to them. ...Once he realized what Bill had done.)

"Yes," Bill said slowly, looking between the twins again. "I know."

"Right," Dipper said shakily next, feeling the shiver of adrenaline slowly wearing off. (Bill wasn’t _actually_ about to start killing people all of a sudden. He was just being stupid about their grunkle and great-uncle fighting. They were gonna be okay...)

(...right?)

Bill frowned slightly, thinking and visually-assessing. Shooting Star was still shivering a bit. Pine Tree didn't look much better. And the way that they were clutching at each other...

"You’re acting like… you’ve been mentally attacked," Bill said slowly.

"Yeah, you _think?_ " Dipper said, his voice rising.

Bill slowly crouched down next to them -- nearly, but not _quite_ within arm’s reach of being able to grab them. He looked between them _again_ , a little more slowly.

"...This isn’t about the ‘tattoo’ burn mark," Bill said slowly after awhile, his gaze eventually settling on Shooting Star. "Is it."

"No," Shooting Star mumbled out, burying her face in Pine Tree’s shoulder as she held onto him.

"You are… afraid of me, now?" Bill asked her, perking up a bit, both confused and intrigued. He was a bit happy and proud that she was FINALLY taking him SERIOUSLY -- she thought he was dangerous and _frightening!_ HAHA! -- but he also found it a little annoying, too. It made for an oddly… uncomfortable mix (though he wasn’t quite sure why that was…).

"No," Shooting Star mumbled out again, as Pine Tree glared at him.

"You didn’t have problems walking up to me before," Bill pointed out, smiling. "That means you _fear_ me now!" That was... new. --What had he done that had worked to do _THAT_ for him? --He wanted to _KNOW!_ Because fear and respect were the cornerstones of--

"Bill, _stop_ ," Dipper said, as Mabel hugged him a little tighter.

Bill looked over at him, then at Shooting Star again, then let out a sigh and propped his chin up on a fist, watching them still.

He looked up at Miz, who was still sitting in her chair.

"...Being abducted by an ancient alien space wizard and his sister is _TERRIFYING_ ," Bill informed Miz quite seriously, giving her an intentionally wide-eyed look.

And that _almost_ got a giggle out of Shooting Star.

...Or it might have before. But it didn’t. Not at all, not even a little. Not right now. Because it wasn't funny.

Because Mabel could look up from where she was sitting with her brother, and look over at her two most favorite grunkles in the whole wide world… and she could see how angry and upset they were, yelling at each other, even if she couldn't really hear what they were saying anymore because of Bill. And she wanted to run over there and yell at them to stop…! But even if she and Dipper got away from Bill and Miz somehow right now, she didn’t know how to stop or fix that. Because Grunkle Ford hadn't been listening to her or Dipper, even before Grunkle Stan had caught up to them, and then they'd both gotten scary and stupid, and...

She felt absolutely horrible as she watched them fighting with each other, her two favorite grunkles in the whole wide world from anywhere ever, because it occurred to Mabel truly, for the very first time, that maybe there really were some things that you really _couldn’t_ just fix by hugging it all out, right there, on the spot.

Her grunkles were getting stupid, and as Mabel wiped away a few tears, she felt _angry_ , because nothing about this was okay, and… and Bill wasn’t even helping! And neither were they!

...So how were she and Dipper being _any_ better than the demons right now, just sitting here and abandoning their grunkles like this?

\--She had to do something!!

But was Bill going to stop her again if she tried?

Bill had stopped when Dipper had asked him to, so he was just doing what he’d said he was doing. Getting them away from their grunkles so they couldn’t get hit, and casting spells so they couldn’t hear them yelling. But… that just wasn’t enough!

So Mabel thought hard. --Bill was supposed to help stop fights if anybody attacked any of them, right? Grunkle Stan had said that Bill didn’t have to help with fights _he_ got into, but… Bill knew that she and Dipper didn’t want Grunkle Ford being physically or mentally attacked and hurt. And Grunkle Stan _couldn’t_ want to fight with Grunkle Ford; not _really_. He’d even said that he just wanted Grunkle Ford to come back to the booth with them and talk! Right? So why wasn’t Bill--

Did Bill really mean it? Did he really think they could get _hurt_ if they got in the middle of things? Grunkle Stan had said that she and Dip-Dop were the most important ones on the list of family that Bill wasn’t supposed to mess with! And Grunkle Ford was the last on the list. --But Grunkle Ford had ended up _added_ to the list because of her and Dipper, right? Because him getting hurt meant _they’d_ be hurt, too? --Feeling really bad? And Bill was supposed to stop things like that? She was pretty sure that was how it had worked, anyway.

So if Bill really _had_ been telling the truth when he’d said the thing about keeping them from physically getting hurt being more important than how they _felt_ , then--

"--Bill, _make them stop!_ " Mabel demanded out of the demon, and she didn’t care how Dip-Dop sucked in a breath at her for giving Bill an order (just like Grunkle Stan had warned them not to ever do). She was practically at her wits end; Bill was stopping her from going over there and trying to get in-between them, and maybe she _couldn't_ do anything, because Bill might feel like he’d have to stop her to keep her ‘ _safe_ ’? ~~(Or maybe her grunkles would still keep on not listening to her when she tried to tell them to hug it out?)~~ But maybe _he_ could do something instead? Because if she made how absolutely **HORRIBLE** she really _felt_ about her two favorite grunkles fighting really really clear, then maybe Bill would feel like he’d have to try and stop that, too? --She wasn’t sure. Maybe it would work? She didn’t understand Bill half of the time. But she didn't know what else to _do_ \--!

"-- _Mabel, no!!_ " Dipper breathed out at her. But it was already too late. She’d already done it, asked him to do something, and--

At her desperate order, Bill… let out a laugh. And it sounded different than Bill's laughs usually did.

" _How?_ " Bill said to her, turning his head towards her. "How do you want me to _STOP_ them, Shooting Star? To MAKE THEM stop." (Mabel stared at him.) "Drop them both with a sleep spell? --They’d just pick up RIGHT where THEY LEFT OFF that much later, once they both woke back up. --Kill them instead? I’m NOT doing that," Bill waved off, looking away. "Try and talk to them, to talk them into ‘SEEING REASON’? --They both practically just told me to SHUT myself UP, earlier," and now Mabel wasn't the only one staring at him; Dipper was staring at Bill, too, because he sounded so _bitter_ \--

"Get in a _physical_ fight with them?" Bill continued on, sounding twice as bitter. "--That’s just Stanley’s ‘ _escalation_ ’; that won’t work. They’d just start punching EACH OTHER next, before too long. _\--What else?_ " Bill said, finally turning back towards her. "Love potion? Fire ants? Three turtles and a handkerchief?" ("... _What?_ " said Dipper, at the last.) "-- _They won’t listen to me,_ Shooting Star," Bill told her angrily, with bared teeth, looking irate. "--Do YOU have any _BRIGHT IDEAS_ for how to do that? To make them STOP without KILLING THEM?!" Bill all but demanded out of her, and the twins stared at him, stunned (and feeling a little scared all over again).

Miz's contribution was, "Create a bigger threat that they have to work together to handle… that might not be a good idea though."

"--I _said_ that already," Bill complained, tossing his hands up at the sky, "I DID that already! And RIGHT NOW that would be us 'stealing' Pine Tree and Shooting Star," as he flopped backwards to lie on his back on the ground, to which Dipper said (to them both), "--No, we're _not_ doing that!"

"--See?" Bill said, waving a hand at the siblings, neither of which looked very happy with him at the moment.

Miz shook her head. "I meant like, a sea monster attacking the beach or something." She shrugged. "It wouldn’t stress them out about the kids being gone, but it’s something that the two can vent their angry, violent stress into by beating it up…" After all, Stan’s default response to stress seemed to be punching things. This way they’d punch the monster and not each other.

""--No!"" Mabel and Dipper both protested immediately, because "That’ll just make things even _worse!_ " Mabel protested.

"And then they'd get angry at me and punch ME for 'being the one behind it all' and doing it, and then start punching each other some-time after-or-during that too, after they got done punching me for it, because Stanley wasn't 'properly watching’ me," Bill sneered out, glaring over at that Stanford. "--That's Stanley’s _'escalation’_ , sis, and I already TRIED that with them," Bill said to her crossly, "It DOESN’T WORK," because she wasn't LISTENING to him! "I TRIED tying them up during Weirdmageddon, hung the rest of my Zodiac up out of the way, and then threatened to kill _these_ two right in front of them if they didn't fall in line and GIVE ME WHAT I WANTED!" Then Bill waved a hand at the younger of his Zodiac again, saying, "Then I chased after _them_. --Same thing."

Bill raised his hands and scrubbed them over his face, as he stared up at the sky. "It DIDN’T work," Bill repeated. "I _died_ , and THEY-learned... _the wrong thing_ …" Bill trailed off, "The wrong LESSON," he added in uglier tones, as he kicked his feet into the ground and let out an nasty chittering-hiss of sound that sounded almost like a curse of some sort. "So _now_ they think that what happens when they fight is that they beat me and I die and everything gets FIXED and goes back to 'the way it was’ before! -- _Of course_ they do," Bill ended on an almost sour, rather frustrated note, dropping his arms out to his sides and glaring up at the sky.

Dipper stared at Bill in confusion. Bill was being a huge jerk, and his thinking was completely off _as usual_ , but… that wasn't what had thrown him off. What _was_ throwing him off was how Bill was acting right now: like he didn't like Grunkle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford fighting. It didn't make _sense_. Why would Bill _want_ that, all of a sudden? And Dipper didn't get it at all…

...until he did.

Dipper stared at Bill in something like horror.

"...You want them to get along," Dipper said slowly, still staring -- because he may not know _why_ Bill might want that, but whatever it was that the crazy demon wanted that _for_ must be really, _really_ bad.

\--Because Dipper realized that this **wasn't** just some crazy new thing. Bill _had_ actually said the same kind of thing before, once, that one time in the Fearamid way back when: _you guys wanna see what happens to your friends when you can't get along?_

...And the dumb dorito had said it _while they'd been trying to use **the circle** on him_. Practically right in the middle of it. He'd taunted them all for not holding hands, tied their great-uncles up, pulled them away from each other, and _then_ he'd said...

Dipper let out a breath in shock.

Mabel was staring at Bill, as she clutched Dipper closer. She realized what Dipper was getting at there.

"...You don't know how to make them stop fighting, either," Mabel said, eyes wide and voice shaky. Because Bill had just admitted that the only way he thought would stop them from fighting would be to _kill them!_ And-- "You--"

"-- _Sixer's_ the problem!" Bill spat out at them. The kids were all staring at him, even Miz had raised her eyebrows. "--HE'S **ALWAYS** THE PROBLEM!" And now Bill was rubbing his hand against the side of his head in abrupt see-saws of motion. He looked downright agitated now. " _Stanley_ doesn't want to fight me -- not if he thinks he doesn't _HAVE_ to -- but _that **idiot** Stanford_ wants to fight me ALL THE TIME!" Bill… complained? Then Bill sat up abruptly, slapping his hands down against the ground. He looked pissed and agitated, and… "He never just wants to _STOP!_ Not even a LITTLE!! --Not for a LITTLE BIT, not for a WHILE--!" Bill said next, looking angry and frustrated and _wild_ as he made his tirade, his tone shifting higher and higher, and...

...for one single solitary second, Dipper got it. Bill was angry because...

"...Great-Uncle Ford _won't do what you want him to do_ ," Dipper said slowly, with a shivering intake of breath. It made him feel an odd kind of glee and pride in his great-uncle, because... he'd really _never_ given in to Bill! Except... "You want him to stop fighting Grunkle Stan," and that part still didn't really make any sense at all, because Bill hadn't cared about _any_ of _that_ during Weirdmageddon (when apparently he'd pulled this the first time?!). Bill hadn't cared about what Grunkle Stan thought about him or anything that he was doing before; they'd had no agreement back then. It didn't make sense, and that couldn't be right -- but Dipper knew that if he could figure out what Bill's game _really_ was here, right now, to get him to talk about it, even a little, then maybe--

"I want him to stop fighting ME," Bill said. "I'm on Stanley's side now, but _I_ know -- and _that Stanford_ knows -- that **IT'S THE SAME SIDE** , even if _maybe_ it isn't," Bill said, seemingly contradicting himself in the very next breath. "Even if Stanley refuses to think so." He let out a huff of breath. "And Stanley wants me, and it's the same side we're standing on, so fighting _Stanley_ IS fighting me, right now." Bill was looking away from them all, rubbing his hand against the side of his head again.

"...Right now," Dipper echoed, to which Bill let out another nasty chitter-whistle and then said, "YES, right now. But _not for long_." And Bill looked **angry** about that.

Dipper didn't like the sound of that 'not for long’. What did Bill mean by that? ...That he was going to stop following the agreement soon? Then why did Bill sound so _angry_ about it? ...Because he thought Grunkle Stan might finally do the circle with them, maybe? --But that didn't make sense, because they weren't back in their own dimension yet. Without everyone else here to complete the Zodiac circle, there was no way that…

Dipper glanced at Mabel, who looked just as concerned. Neither of them wanted another Weirdmageddon, especially not one that they might not be able to stop. Because with the _two_ demon 'Bills’ working together here--

(--Was this part of why Great-Uncle Ford was so angry, freaked out, and upset? Had he been thinking about all this, right from the start? Right from when they’d all first gotten here? That, now that they were separated, an in a whole separate dimension from _everybody else_ \--)

Miz took a little time to process this. "So I’m guessing a calming spell is ALSO a hard NO in this situation."

"Free will is a 'thing’," Bill said to his sister rather tersely, looking away from her. "They decide what they want to think; they feel what they decide to feel." (That had both Dipper and Mabel staring over at Bill, wide-eyed.)

"Got it." Miz hummed in thought. "Have you considered, that maybe they just aren’t going to get along? Because they have hurt feelings all around and neither are willing to just… talk about it directly?"

"Yes, I have," said Bill, just as tersely and angrily as before. "That Stanford refuses to say anything but no. It's why it's not going to work. This agreement. Stanley keeps pushing it off, pushing it out farther and farther in bits and pieces, putting it off and putting it off, but sooner or later…" Bill let out a breath, looking even more agitated. "I don't know how to make it work -- and neither does _Stanley!_ He keeps SAYING he's going to, but I haven't seen him DO anything to fix it that will actually work to fix it yet. He’s just building a wall and a box and carving down-and-out a _slightly_ deeper shallow-end pool--" Bill stopped his seeming rambling thoughts, shook his head twice and then looked away.

"He wants to keep trying, so I let him," Bill continued. "But I'm running out of _time_ now, _AND SO IS HE_." Bill grimaced and looked up at the sky, glaring. "Stupid lizard." If it hadn't emptied out a good solid half of the weirdness from his old decaying dimension--! _Now_ he was going to have to collapse another dimension into it a _hell_ of a lot sooner, before it collapsed and emptied out completely, to KEEP it from collapsing completely. (And with the way that that Stanford had first-and-always reacted to the news that Bill had done that to other dimensions before…)

No, Stanley couldn't have both him and that Stanford. That Stanford was going to _force_ Stanley to CHOOSE, to choose _BETWEEN_ them, with Pine Tree and Shooting Star's future-safety on the line, _and when he did **THAT**_...

Bill glared across the distance at that Stanford, still fighting with Stanley. It wasn't like he didn't know how this was all going to work out; how it was all going to end… He'd even told Stanley about it, to ~~taunt him with what a bad idea it was--~~ warn him exactly what was going to happen, sooner before later--! ~~But Stanley kept _insisting that_ …~~

Miz glanced over at the two men. "Would it be considered a mental attack if we forced them to actually talk about their issues with each other, about each other?" Because Stan had felt abandoned by Ford when Ford had believed Stan had purposely sabotaged the project, while Ford had felt abandoned by Stan when he never came home. At least, that’s what Miz thought the problem might have been.

"Physically _forcing_ bodies around in ways the people inside-or-owning-them don't want to _move_ is a physical attack, unless they can get out of it," Bill reminded her, glowering. "Mentally _forcing_ minds around in ways the beings that-they-are don't want to _think_ is a mental attack, unless there is a 'real choice’," Bill told her, echoing almost verbatim what he and Stanley had talked about last on the subject. (Not that Bill understood the 'real choice’ part, yet. ...which he knew he still didn't know.)

"No casting spells on our grunkles!" Mabel said firmly to them both, just in case (because Bill's response hadn't sounded like a 'no’ to her). Miz nodded. (Bill let out a huff and approximated something of an eyeroll.)

"Okay," said Miz. "But the whole, making them actually tell each other what’s bothering them so they can finally apologize to each other and get past it?" Miz asked the twins: "How would you do it without a spell?"

Mabel and Dipper both frowned and looked at each other, because the problem was, that was what their grunkles were actually trying to do -- their grunkles were just both being really stupid about it. And they did want their grunkles to resolve whatever might be the problem between them, that was the whole point! They just weren’t sure how to do it. And letting the demons try would probably just make things even worse, since part of what they were arguing about so much was the triangle demon himself.

Mabel glanced at her brother. "I want them to talk it out and then hug it out… but I don’t know how to make them do it…" she said quietly. Dipper tugged at his hat, agitated and frustrated that their great-uncles were both being so… so… --How were they still over there fighting about stuff?! He could _see_ them still yelling and gesturing around at each other, and it had been... almost an _hour!_

And in watching the twins’ worry and frustration, Miz wanted to help, she really did. "Well, I don’t know for sure, but I suspect the base of this whole issue is because they both believe that the other abandoned them. If that helps at all with you two figuring out what to do?"

Dipper pulled down on his hat harder. "That… doesn't help. Not really." Even if he and Mabel knew for sure what was bothering their grunkles, didn’t mean they would know how to make the two of them make up and stop fighting. It was really starting to feel like this was the sort of thing that they just couldn’t fix. (Their great-uncle and grunkle hadn't even noticed that they were gone!) And Dipper _hated_ how that made him feel.

"What if I cast Zone of Truth? It’s not a spell on them, but on the whole area, so that no one here can lie? So they’ll say what they’re really feeling?" Miz suggested instead. Seemed to make sense to her.

"They ARE saying what they're feeling," said Bill, sending her a look.

The kids shook their heads again. "No spells on our grunkles or on any of us." ( _'Too late!’_ thought Bill, with a very thin smile.)

That made Miz pause. "So, is placing a spell on someone when they didn't agree to it ALWAYS bad?" she asked carefully. Dipper nodded, and Miz frowned. "But what if it's a healing spell? Or if I'm trying to save their lives? Am I still supposed to ask first? And if they say no, I have to let them die?"

Mabel and Dipper were confused and put off-balance by the sudden subject change. --Then again, that seemed to be something Miz did a lot. Then Dipper blinked.

"--Are you just trying to distract us so we forget to worry about our grunkles fighting?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

Miz sighed. "Yes and no. I'm actually curious about this topic and if it DID manage to distract you both and make you less unhappy with our current situation, that would have been a bonus."

"I put up a block-noise modifier a little while before," Bill put out there, with a widening smile. "And I did it on the roof. Stanley _wants_ me doing that to Pine Tree and Shooting Star, so they don’t hear things that are mental attacks."

Dipper scowled. "We can handle it!"

Miz rubbed her face. "Well, clearly you can’t. Or, Stan thinks you can’t. --But seriously though, your thoughts on asking someone if I can save their life and whether I should let them die if they say ‘no’. Legitimate question here." When Dipper just looked unimpressed, Miz continued with, "Look, I’m just asking because when I met Seb’s brothers, I modified their bodies so they wouldn't suffocate to death in the void of space or choke to death from breathing in the air in my Nightmare Realm. And I didn’t ask for permission before doing so because time was of the essence and their lungs would have collapsed."

"You don’t have to ask to keep someone from dying," Bill told her. (He'd done a similar thing to ~~his own--~~ _that Stanford_ when…) "Humans call that the 'good samaritan rule’ these days! --You keep them alive, they can always decide if they want to kill themselves later, if they don't like it," he told her with a shrug, looking away from her. He looked tense as he said the last part of it, though.

Miz sighed. "But, if I did ask them, they would have said ‘no’. They wouldn’t have trusted me to help them. And if they had said ‘no’ when I asked, am I supposed to respect their ‘no’ and let them die?"

"Not if they’re your Zodiac," Bill told her in odd tones that had the twins exchanging a glance.

Miz frowned. "They were Seb’s brothers, not my Zodiac." And now Dipper KNEW that Miz was on this topic to distract him and Mabel from what was going on with their great-uncles just then, but… argh, it _was_ a good distraction! And he _knew_ he should tell them to stop, too -- because it was more talk about different dimensions -- but he still _really_ wanted to probe them for more answers and clarification, instead.

Dipper forced himself to focus on Bill instead. --Get the answer to why Bill wanted them to stop fighting, why Bill thought that was important enough to get angry about, why Bill thought…

"What do you mean ‘if they’re your Zodiac’?" Dipper asked Bill, staring at the demon.

"You're my Zodiac," Bill said, watching Stanley and Stanford off and farther away, and not looking at any of them as he said it.

"But what does that _mean?_ What's so important about us?" (What exactly would happen if they did the circle right, and why would it work for _them?_ ) "What do you need us for?" Dipper pressed.

"I don't need you; I have Stanley now," Bill told him, looking over at him. "It means you're _mine_ ; isn't that enough?" Dipper ground his teeth, because no. That wasn't enough.

"But why are we important?" Dipper asked again. Because Bill was actually almost talking for once, and if he could just figure this out for Great-Uncle Ford...

"You're important because I say so," Bill said simply, turning away from him again, and Dipper wanted to kick something in frustration. Why wouldn't Bill just give him a proper answer?! (--Because it was actually something _important!?_ )

"...Why do you say so?" was what Mabel asked next, taking over for her brother.

Bill thinned his lips.

"I don’t have to say so anymore," was Bill’s half-cagey reply, which had the twins glancing at each other.

"What changed?" Dipper asked next.

"I'm out," was what Bill said next, which had Dipper frowning at him.

"So?" said Dipper. And he was about to ask, 'what does _that_ have to do with anything?’ when Bill rounded on him, looking absolutely _FURIOUS_

And for a moment, Dipper panicked, thinking that Bill was going to hit him. Or kill him. Or _worse_.

But Bill didn't. He closed his eyes, and clenched his hands in his lap, and shook in place… and breathed. _A lot._

(Miz sat back in her chair, listening and thinking. She’d watched Dipper attempt his probing questions until Bill nearly blew up at him. But he calmed himself. Miz really respected how her big brother could do that. She was always trying to do that but she just couldn't sometimes.)

"You're _trying my patience_ , Pine Tree," Bill gritted out in warning tones, eyes still closed, fists still clenched in his lap. Miz scooted over to press lightly against his side.

"He’s just curious," Miz pointed out. She personally didn’t see a problem with that.

"I _DON'T_ need it TOSSED in my front-face that he _wishes_ I was still STUCK in the _Nightmare Realm!_ " Bill spat out at her, whipping his head around at her and snapping open his eyes. ...Then Bill grimaced and twisted his head away from her, raising a hand to rub at the side of his head again. (It wasn't his _sister_ he was angry at.) He shifted in place, feeling uncomfortable (but not saying ‘sorry’ to her, because he didn't think he'd actually said anything wrong to her there that he needed to say ‘sorry’ for).

Miz sighed. "Pine Tree, was that your intention when you asked brother that question?" She asked lightly. Dipper opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. How the heck was he supposed to answer that without making Bill angrier? Well, he really hadn’t… _really_ been intending to have his question come off like that… He took a deep breath and winced.

"I… wasn’t _meaning_ to come off that way…" Dipper said finally. Mabel squeezed his hand.

"But you DO think and feel that way about me," Bill said, flicking his eyes over to him without turning his head.

Dipper shivered in place.

And then he got **mad**.

" _Yes_ ," Dipper said, glaring up at Bill from where he sat, as he squeezed Mabel's hand for support, shoulders squared. He'd told Pacifica she was ‘the worst’ to her face when he'd meant it, just like he'd say it to anyone he thought was the worst. He said what he felt, he'd never backed down from Bill before, and he had no reason to now! Bill was crazy-dangerous, and his great-uncles weren't paying any attention at all, but he _wasn't_ going to lie and pretend everything was okay just because Bill might attack him! And if Bill did, he would fight back! And so would Mabel, and then they'd--!!

Miz held Bill’s hand when the older demon trembled in anger. Not quite holding him back but Mabel caught the gesture and was a little floored by the idea that Miz didn’t want her brother to attack Dipper either.

And then Bill let out a laugh.

Tilted his head back and let out a very long laugh.

And when he dropped his chin again, he was grinning. Angry, but grinning.

"WELL," said Bill, and he was watching Dipper with a glint in his eyes. "At least you're not a LIAR like my _SIX-FINGERED HAND_ is." He smiled in a way that made Dipper feel very uncomfortable. " _I can WORK with that_ ," Bill said next, slowly relaxing a bit in place.

Dipper clenched his teeth, and he felt Mabel squeeze his hand back reassuringly.

Miz gently leaned her head against Bill’s arm, wishing that everyone would just stop fighting. Speaking of fights, she glanced back over to Stan and Ford. She wanted to stop the fight but she was sure anything she tried would make things worse...

Bill looked back over to Stanley and that Stanford, and then he looked incensed. He shifted in place, almost a twisting motion, like he was fighting being uncomfortably bound up in some way.

"Stupid priority order," Bill muttered, as he slowly settled back in place again. "Stupid agreement. Stupid _strings_." The fingers of Bill's hands twitched two times in a series of almost grasping motions in Bill’s lap, before he fisted them again.

"...You really don't like it, do you," Mabel said slowly. "You really want them to stop fighting, too."

"YES," Bill said in exasperation, doing that uncomfortable-looking shifting-tilting in-place motion again, though a little differently this time. "I said that!"

Mabel looked at her twin, and then she looked back at Bill. ...And she realized that the insane triangle almost looked the same kind of uncomfortable-agitated now, as he had when she'd gotten him to help out Melody, and Melody had first started talking about all that FLCORP stuff with him. --Not the boxed-in-thinking stuff he'd been doing at first where he'd started to go almost glassy-eyed, but the frowny-can’t-sit-still-ness and the way he was moving? That was pretty close… And when that had happened and Melody had realized something was wrong, Melody had said…

And then _Bill_ had...

Mabel thought about all of this carefully. And then Mabel said slowly, "...Bill, what would you do to make them stop fighting if the agreement wasn't… If you didn't have the agreement with Grunkle Stan? Or the priority order thing?"

"-- _DROP something on THAT STANFORD’S **HEAD!**_ " what what Bill snapped out next.

Mabel blinked at him, and said, "...Like water?" almost skeptically, because Bill didn't like water, sure (...would that even work?), and it _was_ a--

"Physical attack; can't do that, it's off-limits," Bill said angrily, glaring over at Stanford as he muttered, "Still want to make him COOL OFF his STUPID hot head--"

"--Snow," was what Dipper said suddenly, and it had all of them turning to look at him. "Drop _snow_ on their heads!" He felt almost breathless as he looked around at all of them. "Snow isn't on the list, right?"

"It's… water," Bill said, but he was frowning. "Cold water. -- _Very_ cold water," Bill said. "Cold is on the list; water is on the list," was what Bill said next, but it didn’t exactly escape Dipper’s attention that the dumb dorito hadn't _actually_ said ‘no’.

"But _snow_ isn't actually on the list," Dipper said. And wouldn't dropping a bunch of snow on them startle them so much that they couldn't keep fighting? Without hurting them or making anything any worse?

"It’s too close!" Bill complained. "I don't want another learning-lecture from Stanley because--!!"

But then Bill paused and looked down.

And looked over at the two arguing adults.

And then looked back at Dipper.

"...You are _very sure_ that snow will make them stop fighting," Bill said slowly, looking at him very carefully and intensely.

"Yes," said Dipper. And then he opened his mouth to try and defend to Bill _why_ he thought that, because maybe if he could convince the stupid dorito that this was really important, then--!

\--But Bill had already raised a hand towards his great-uncles, glaring at them as he finished muttering something under his breath… and a good dump-truck load's worth of snow suddenly appeared out of nowhere about six feet above the men's heads.

Gravity took hold of it almost immediately, accelerating it all downwards, down towards them both, in one huge pile that looked like it was going to _bury_ them under it just as deep.

(Even through the muted-noise barrier, they all heard both adults yell, as Grunkle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford looked up at the odd sudden shadow, right before the snow hit them both.)

Dipper stared, shocked that Bill had acted so _quickly_ \--

"...Worth the lecture," Bill muttered as he lowered his hand, and crossed his arms across his chest. He looked both a bit self-satisfied and grim, almost.

Miz tilted her head up at Bill, looking up from her Com (which she had been fiddling with during most of the conversation). "Wouldn’t it have been easier if I did it?" Since she wasn’t part of the Agreement, and wasn’t going to drop the snow for the purpose of attacking them, she was trying to help...

"-- _No_ ," said Bill firmly, as he continued watching the two older Pines as they cursed and worked to start digging themselves out of the mess. "Stanley KNOWS I wouldn’t try to attack them; not with the agreement going. --They _don't_ know that about YOU. You could ‘just be _playing around_ ’, or ‘messing with them’, or ‘attacking them both’, or even ‘just bored’. They'd just get back to arguing about THAT right away," he told her, "Which would be _counterproductive_. And ineffective." And Miz could see what he was getting at, annoying as that was.

The two old men were now sputtering as they managed to finally crawl the rest of the way up, out, and over the huge messy pile of snow, out to the mouth of the alleyway. They were both shaking the stuff off, then brushing the last of the snow off of themselves, when they realized that they were alone where they were. They both began looking around for the niblings and demons almost frantically (and then refocused on the group of them, once they were spotted).

Ford began glaring over at them for having run off so far away (what were the niblings _doing_ with the demons over there? didn’t they know better than to go running off with--!). But Ford seemed taken aback almost immediately when he saw that Mabel was frowning right back at him, a scolding frown on her face directed at _him_ **and** Stan.

Bill waved away the muted-noise sound barrier spell (really, both of them) and slowly stood up.

Then the demon cupped his hands and yelled out, "HEY, IDIOTS! YOU DONE?!?"

That got him a pair of glares from the adults, as the triangle demon lowered his hands to his hips and followed it up with a small smile. "OR YOU WANNA GO AT IT FOR _ANOTHER_ HOUR AND A HALF?" Bill called out next at full volume, as he rocked back on his heels. ( _That_ got a pair of startled looks out of the two supposed adults of the bunch, next.)

Miz rolled her eyes and called out, "You two upset the kids!" And that got the older twins to switch to glaring at _her_ (while they unconsciously winced at her words in unison).

Stan got a good look at Mabel and saw how tightly she was gripping the edge of her sweater even at that distance, and how her other hand was holding Dipper. When Stan glanced over at Dipper and realized that he wasn't doing any better... Stan started _jogging_ (not walking) over, almost immediately (with Ford following closely behind). When he got within a few yards of them all, Stan said, "Mabel, sweetie…"

"--You’re BOTH being stupid heads!" Mabel interrupted, making Stan freeze and look shocked as he stared down at her.

Dipper sighed. "I told Bill he could drop snow on you to make you stop fighting," he informed his great-uncle Ford, just to try and curb any argument from starting between Ford and Bill instead. (That had been kind of what had started the worst of the last argument in the first place, the way Dipper saw it -- Bill getting up in Great-Uncle Ford's face and arguing with the dumb dorito, and then Grunkle Stan getting between them and defending _Bill_.)

Ford looked incredibly angry for a moment as he stared down at Dipper -- then closed his eyes and rocked back on his heels and seemed to pull in a breath to force himself to try and calm down.

Dipper was on tenterhooks for what felt like ages, as he looked up at his great-uncle who he so admired, worried at what he would say.

Once Ford let out that breath and looked back up at Dipper, though... he didn't look angry anymore; he just looked incredibly tired, and a little defeated too, as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"Dipper, what you just did was incredibly dangerous, and--" Ford grimaced, stopped himself. He paused for a moment, before he said, "And was also _exactly_ what I was just arguing with Stanley about," he ended with, sending Stan a dark look. (He got a long I-ain’t-taking-any-of-your-shit look from Stan in return.) Ford looked away from Stan before continuing. "Dipper, when you tell Bill you want something, you aren't using him; he's the one using _you_."

"Ford," Stan tried to cut in, but Great-Uncle Ford wasn't done.

"-- _Don’t_ give Bill an excuse to act out and do things to other people, and then blame _you_ for it," Ford told Dipper firmly. "Don’t give him the opportunity or the satisfaction, and **don't** believe him if he tries to say it's _your_ fault for 'giving him the idea for it’ or ‘putting the idea in his head’. He only ever does what he wants to do, and he _isn't_ going to be doing it because he's really 'wanting to help you out’, to get you what you want or _anything else!_ \-- **Don’t** _fall for it!_ "

Ford stopped for a moment, taking in a breath (to try and calm down again; his voice had started to rise in tone and volume at the end there.)

"You, none of you, truly have _any_ idea what Bill is actually capable of, _let alone_ what he wants or doesn't want," Ford informed them all (as Bill rolled his eyes at him). "--He isn't safe, and he _cannot_ be trusted," Ford said finally. "--Do you understand?" he asked Dipper, looking him straight in the eye, quite seriously. (He also looked more than a little nervous, though Dipper didn't completely understand why...)

Dipper shifted from foot to foot, then nodded, having trouble meeting his great-uncle's eyes. "I know that." He frowned, hunching his shoulders a little. Of course he knew that. He didn’t like having Bill doing stuff to his grunkles, but this had been an emergency! ...And, weird as it was to think about, Bill legitimately hadn’t liked seeing them fighting any more than he and Mabel had.

Miz looked between the two adults. "You two have issues you need to work out." That made Ford bristle, but Mabel was still looking at him like she was… disappointed in him. And sad. (The latter of which somehow made everything that much worse.)

"Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan, why were you…" Mabel bit her lip, because they'd been fighting so _long_... "Do you not like each other anymore?"

"What?!" said Ford, while Stan just grimaced and said, "Pumpkin, we don’t--!"

But Stan was interrupted by a a scowling Miz: "Don’t lie!"

" _Kid_ ," Stan said in warning tones that sounded more than a little angry, as he glared down at Miz, and Bill immediately put a hand on top of her head.

"--Headband," Bill said quickly. "She CAN’T feel what you're feeling right now. --You were fighting badly. _Mental attacks._ "

"I didn't _mentally attack_ my own--!!" Stan began hotly.

"You just threatened to let _Bill Cipher_ loose on me if I didn’t do what you wanted!" Ford rounded on him, protesting, and he sounded angry, scared, and almost half-hysterical, like he couldn't believe what Stan had just said he didn’t do JUST that.

Stan turned towards him, looking shocked. "What? I didn’t--!" And then Stan stopped, then stared at his brother, wide-eyed.

"--Sides," Bill said, as Stan stared at Ford. "Paralysis is a _start_ , not an end. No moving means _zero defenses_ until lifted." And as he said that, Stan turned towards Bill, then back to his brother, then looked down then away (thinking quickly), and he got a slight look of horror as he realized--

Stan glowered and his shoulders slumped a little as he rubbed a hand across his face. ( _...Great._ ) He hadn't meant to--

"...Ford," Stan said, his hand muffling his words. "I am not kicking you off’a the list, siccing the kid on you, and calling it a day. Not now; not _ever_." He dropped his hand and looked up at his brother. "I just don't want you running off and _attacking somebody_ while we're _here_ , okay?! --I _don't care_ why; _don’t_ go running after people attacking them, no matter who they are, or what you thought they did or didn't do!"

"Stan--" Ford began, looking angry all over again.

" _It’s not your callout_ ," Stan told him. " **Nothing** here is. --You are here helping me to get the kids and get home, and that's. it. That's all of it. That is all that I want you to do while we're here. --You hear me?" And Stan _almost_ added, _You didn't have to come along_ , but he managed to keep that one to himself.

Ford glared at him, fuming.

"This is a mistake," Ford said to him. "You're _falling for_ \--"

"--I'm _falling_ for **nothing** ," Stan said like it was final. "You're coming with us back to the booth and looking after the kids for the next couple 'a hours. _I'll_ keep an eye on the demons. We're leaving at nightfall when I know the kid's gonna be healed up and rested enough not to screw up gettin’ us all back home again. Period."

"Stan, that is _not_ \--!" Ford began hotly.

"-- **End. Of. Discussion.** I _ain't_ arguing with you about this anymore. This is what we're doin’. You hear me?" Stan said.

"You aren't _listening_ to me! Bill is--!!"

"--Unless you _want_ to spend the next couple of hours yellin’ at me some more," Stan steamrolled right over him, "Leaving two demons alone with the kids with _no supervision_ **at all** _again_ while you do it! --Because I just bet I can argue with you until you're blue in the face from getting another three batches of snow dropped on your head, and it's dark out again -- if _that's_ the way you want to do this. _Your choice._ "

Ford clenched his jaw, and his fists, glaring at him.

Miz wondered if she should just brainstorm with the kids on how to make these two idiots get over themselves. At the angry look on Ford’s face, she groaned. She had a feeling that it was going to be a very uncomfortable next several hours...

(Miz, once again, thanked her headband.)

\----

" _Stan_ …" Ford said darkly, _again_ , looking none-too-happy with his brother from his vantage point, of where he was sitting in the back corner of the booth.

"Save it," Stan grumbled out, as he reshuffled the tarot deck again, despite the fact that sunset was nearly over, and there was damn near nobody out and about at all anymore to want a reading from him, let alone around to see that the booth was still technically ‘open’ for business. "You can stow your ‘I told you so’s’ and whatever-else for later, _after_ this is all over, and we’re all home again," _Stan_ repeated again, almost doggedly, but three times as stubborn, and Stan didn’t much care how many times the kids and the demons had overhead this ‘argument’ by this point, he just wanted Ford to _shut the hell up and stop needling him on it_.

He’d practically had to drag Ford back to the booth. After he'd pretty much threatened to have the kid straight-up drop Ford with a paralysis spell so that he could _literally_ drag him back, if he didn’t come willingly -- which had started another whole argument, leaving him and Ford both furious at each other, and the kids practically unsupervised with the demons for nearly an hour and a half, until the kid had apparently gotten the bright idea from _Dipper_ to drop a boatload of _snow_ on them both (the hell) to... _cool them off?_ \-- the two had agreed to stop arguing (for the moment at least) for the kids. It hadn’t exactly left either of them any happier with each other, but neither of them wanted to leave the kids with the demons again. It had been a serious mistake for them to do that in the first place, and Stan had had to pull Bill aside and explain exactly _why_ casting spells (like those ‘no sound’ spells, and that stupid ‘snow’ one) without his explicit say-so and go-ahead was a _terrible_ idea.

(Stan had thought that the kid had known that was a mental attack before -- casting spells on people without their okay. But apparently with the while 'helping' thing going on, and after what had happened on the roof -- with Stan nodding at the kid over the 'deaf’ spell for the kids… the point had needed some serious clarification. --Turned out that the kid had set up a noise-cancelling spell right when he'd first started _dragging_ the niblings off, and...)

At this point, Stan was just glad nothing terrible had happened. to the kids (That demon-kid was gonna be getting a straight-up ’educational’ _learning_ -lesson on it all, though, to lean him better on _that_ one, once they were all home again. Stan was gonna make _**sure**_ of that…)

The sun _finally_ finished setting, and Stan got up and headed for the beach. He didn’t even look behind him to see if the kid picked up or left the stuff he’d pulled out of his hat.

It didn’t take him long to realize that the kid wasn’t ‘dilly dallying’; he was damn near at his left shoulder and following along, with Miz at _his_ left side (still playing with her ‘phone’, in fact, she’d been using it to distract herself so she wouldn’t have to pay attention to the tension in the air).

Stan pulled in a breath, and let it out slowly.

He didn’t round on the kid, and he didn’t slow down.

He _did_ hear Ford let out a few choice alien curses behind him, though, as his brother and the kids finally caught up. (Yeah, he’d _thought_ that Ford would slow down enough to make sure the kids weren’t feeling or being left behind in the dust.) He didn’t need his hearing aid to hear Ford’s anger as he came up to stand at Stan’s right side; if his brother was any angrier, he could use him as a lantern to light up the whole damn beach.

"You’re _playing his game_ Stanley," Ford damn near hissed out at him. "Do you have _any_ idea--!?"

Stan finally rounded on him, sick and tired of this shit, of _all_ of this shit. "No, Ford, _I don’t!!_ " he yelled out at his brother, not even bothering to keep it down this time, like he’d tried to earlier in the day when he’d caught up to his twin at the end of the boardwalk, planning and plotting on his own to do who-the-hell- _knew_ -what to that other younger version of him -- _god knew_ what had been running through Ford’s mind, then; Stan hadn’t wanted to know, or cared. "And y’know what?? _NEITHER DO YOU!!_ " he bellowed out at his twin, startling him back at _least_ a few steps. " _I get it,_ Ford," Stan ground out at him. "You _never_ played the kid’s game when you knew what the hell was going on; you never took a single solitary bet or gamble. _Congratulations_ ," Stan spat out at him. "Well, _guess what?_ \-- **I’m** doin’ something _different_ with him!!" Stan snapped out at him. "So _**back the hell off!**_ "

Stan watched as his brother stared at him, looking pale in what little moonlight there was and completely taken aback, and _what the hell did his brother expect after sniping at him for damn near six hours?!?_ A freaking _medal?!_ \--He was getting more support out of the _goddamn **triangle demon**_ right now than he was _his own brother_!!

Miz winced and slowed down to walk a little farther back with the kids instead. "...hate when people argue…" she muttered, glancing down at her Com and twitching at something she read ("No, playing Hellfire would be the WORST idea oh my god…"). Mabel sighed, looking worried.

"They’re mad because it’s important, and they don’t want youngkle Stan and Ford to go through what they did…" Mabel said, trying to explain.

Stan turned away from his brother and looked over at the demon-kid. Bill was doing some kinda deep breathing shit about three yards back from the water’s edge, and whatever the kid did, it didn’t take long before he had that goddamn portal open again. Finally.

"We don’t know where that goes, Stan," was what Ford said next, taking the few steps he needed to, to get in front of him, between him and the portal. Ford was shaking his head. He looked scared, and worried. ...and angry, but what the hell else was new.

"Kid," Stan ground out, while staring his brother down, and the kid seemed to do some odd lowering movement with his hands and said, "Pine Tree and Shooting Star go through first. Then Miz. Then Stanford. Then you, then me."

"--Absolutely not!" Ford snapped out immediately. Stan nearly snapped back at that, but he managed to hold it together long enough to stop and ask himself, _why that order?_

"And burlap sacks cost you nothing--’s for free," the kid added, and when Stan remembered the reference, he pulled in a sharp breath as it all came together for him: the question had an answer, and the answer was...

...because the kids were a loose cannon. They needed to go first so they wouldn’t run off again and try to mess around with things even _more_ here. (...Or call off the 'not a game’ that the kid had going on with him right now. The kids had probably forgotten _all about_ that part of it, with everything else that had been going on that day, but _the kid_ wouldn't go off forgetting a thing like that.)

If Ford went through before both demons did, he could set up to try and shoot Miz and Bill whenever they came through next. Miz could keep Ford in line if she was already there and waiting, so Bill wanted Miz through first; kids wouldn’t shoot at her, Bill knew they _liked_ her.

If Ford demanded to go through earlier, Bill could switch up the order of who went through when and Ford wouldn't know who to expect, to be able to react quickly enough in time to shoot the _right_ wrong person coming through after him.

But Bill wanted him and Stan through last. They had to stick together, and stay on this side long enough for… (what, exactly, that the kid didn’t want to tell him, because the insane triangle thought it would _ruin_ ‘everything’ somehow?)

It was that fox-chicken-seed-farmer problem thing all over again, and the kid was telling him that the ‘advice’ wasn’t ‘free’, that the kid thought that tying up _whoever_ and covering their eyes with a ‘burlap sack’ _was_ the way to go but would cost them all something in forcing the issue, if Stan said ‘the hell with it’ and gave the kid the go-ahead to toss them all through. ...Kid wasn’t stupid, he was using patterns that he knew Stan knew, that Ford just didn’t know -- and _couldn’t_ know, because Ford hadn’t been in on any of those in-the-bedroom hashing-things-out conversations, not even a little. Stan had never told him any of the specifics of any of those that he’d had with the kid, because Ford hadn’t even been _interested_ ; Ford hadn’t even wanted to know -- not even to debate any of it, what the kid had told him.

Ford didn’t want to talk, and the kid wanted to talk forever. And Stan had let each of them do whatever the hell they’d wanted. And it was seriously biting him in the ass now, and he was tired of all of it.

(And he still had _something else_ to fix on _top_ of everything else that was gonna be staring him in the face soon, if the kid wasn’t lying to him or just plain wrong.)

"--Ford, either you go through first, or the kids do," Stan ground out at him, "But _don’t_ tell me there’s any way in _hell_ that the kid went through all of this junk with us, here, just to drop us in the middle of a volcano, or outer space, or a mountainful of fries, or some kinda mess that’s _whatever_ the hell you’re thinking of that might be on the other side of that thing that _you won’t talk about with any of us!!_ " and Stan was on his very last straw.

"We _don’t know where it goes_ ," Ford stressed, looking ready for an actual physical fight out of him for it, and Stan had had it. He was done. He let loose his temper, let go, and snapped back at his brother, three times as hard.

"Yeah? And _whose fault is that_ , Mr. _Doctor_ ‘I-refuse-to-take- _three-whole-damn-minutes_ -to-go-inside-and-grab-ANY-of-my-futuristic-sci-fi-dimensional-stuff, like my _stupid_ dimensional portal scanner _whatever_ -the-hell-the-thing-is thing’ before jumping through a portal with a couple of _demons!!_ " Stan shot back at him, and he saw his brother’s jaw go slack.

"--You want to know what’s on the other side of that thing, Ford?" Stan demanded out of him. "You think you know the kid so well? _So ask him!_ " Stan commanded him, pointing at the kid. "You go ahead and actually _ask the kid to tell you_ where it goes," Stan gritted out, "Since you know the kid _so well_ , that you know whenever the kid’s _lying_ to you or not!"

Miz sighed. "I can go first, keep an eye on the kids when they come through? Make sure they don’t run off?"

" _No!_ " said Bill, "I--" And he looked tense, all of a sudden.

Stan looked over at him. So did Ford.

"...Where does that portal lead," Ford said quietly, and for a moment, Stan almost thought he hadn’t heard his brother right. He’d gotten so used to Ford acting so stubborn, and just flat-out not listening to him--

Bill looked away from them all.

"It goes back to your home dimension, Stanley," the kid said to Stan instead. "It comes out right by the house, just outside of the barrier. Set arrival time of only six minutes after you and Miz and that Stanford and I all left for this dimension, this time period, together," Bill added next, locking down any last little bit of uncertainty in what he had done, in the same way the kid had ever talked about and specified other-dimensional travel to Stan.

Ford was staring at the kid. Stan saw Ford’s face go a little slack with disbelief at what Bill had said, and then Ford looked frustrated and… almost a little scared.

Stan watched as his brother, his twin, turned towards the portal slowly, inexorably, almost like he was being forcibly drawn to it, like it was a magnet... and then he seemed to just as slowly force himself to fight against the pull.

" _That’s_ …" Ford said, shakily… because he was shaking in place. Stan watched as Ford’s breathing picked up and went a little shallow.

And it occurred to Stan, finally, that maybe half the problem he’d been having, here with his brother, had been that Ford hadn’t really _believed_ that any of them were ever going to make it back home again.

"Kids, go through," Stan said quietly. The kid hadn’t been lying. Something was off, but it wasn’t wherever that portal went or when.

The kids looked at each other. Then they both looked up at him. "...Grunkle Stan," Mabel said, uncertainly, for her brother.

"It’s home," Stan told them, staring at the blue of the portal’s surface. "Right time and place. You’ll be fine. Just go." He had a feeling things were going to get ugly here pretty soon, and not in a way that he wanted the kids to hear any more of.

The kids went through.

Stan let out a slow breath. He pulled it in again.

"Ford…" Stan began.

"--I’m not going through without you," Ford breathed out, but he was damn near as transfixed by the look of the portal as Stan was just then, solid blue and ripply and _nothing_ like the one that the kid had made to that ‘anti-Bill’s dimension, the stable one that had stayed open, that had looked like a cutout in space, just like stepping through a doorway…

...and when Stan realized this was a thing, he blinked and shook his head slightly to shake himself out of it.

Stan glanced over at the kid.

The kid was staring, too. He seemed to realize when he was being watched, though. (...Was this some kind of hypnotic thing the kid had done to the thing on _purpose_ , maybe? And then got caught in himself, ‘cause the kid just _didn’t get_ that he was a human kid now, just like the rest of them were human, too?)

The kid slowly turned to look over and up at him, as well.

...the kid was shaking slightly, too. Something was _really_ off.

"So, do I go through?" Miz asked quietly. She wondered about the group of men. They were all being weird. What were they staring at?

"I--" The demon-kid was looking a lot less demon-y right now, and a lot more ‘kid’, and that set off a hell of a lot more than a _couple_ warning bells inside Stan’s head. Because the kid looked… not exactly _squirrely_ right now. But...

"Kid," Stan said. "You tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. Right now."

The kid let out a sort of ‘nnn’ kind of sound, shifting his weight over his feet. he didn’t look happy.

"Kid," Stan tried again, in the same tones as before.

"--I should go through with her," was what the kid blurted out next. " _But I can’t!_ "

Stan stared. "...Why not."

Bill pulled in a breath. "I have to hold it. Just to make sure. She can get through," the kid said, but he looked frustrated as he said it, and his breathing was off.

Stan figured it was time to pull the trigger on this one. "You could go through, leave her here--"

"--NO!" Bill shrieked out immediately, rounding on him, eyes wide.

"--and then she can use one of those Doors to end up-- where... you are," Stan said, almost trailing off at the end there as the kid seemed to freeze in place at what Stan had just told him.

(And then it occurred to Stan -- the reason the kid hadn’t brought it up before? _Hadn’t_ been the kid blowing smoke up their asses, to have them hanging around for another whole day. The kid literally _hadn’t been able to think of it in the first place_ , of leaving his 'little sister’ behind for even a _moment_. --Son of a...)

Miz nodded. "My door leads to you, brother. Don't worry. I'll always find my way back to you."

"I-- I--" The kid looked like he was stuck, somehow. "No, I--" Stan watched as the kid gritted his teeth, and shoved his hands up into his hair, and forced his eyes shut, and… _forced_ himself through it, right while they all stood there watching him. (And the kid didn’t _like_ getting rushed.)

"--Miz goes through first," the kid said finally, forcibly dropping his hands, bobbing his torso from left-to-right in place in an agitated manner. "It’s _safer_ there."

Miz looked worried. Frankly, Stan thought he probably had the same face on, even as much as he still wanted to punch the kid in his face. (...Hell. They weren’t the only ones in over their heads, here. _The kid_ was, too. Just in a different way than the rest of them. ...It just figured. The lunatic punk kid. _Panicking_ on them when somebody finally had the guts to pull the trigger.)

Stan ran a hand across his face. "Miz, go through. We aren’t through after you in five minutes?" Stan said next, dropping his hand, "You do that Door thing _right back to us_. Clear?" Stan looked over at both Miz and the kid. Miz nodded solemnly. The kid looked… not exactly better, but not like he was about to mentally shoot himself in the head in the next five seconds over it, either.

The kid shook his head, looking irritated, then worried, then irritated again. He shook his head again.

"Yes, fine, yes," the kid said, turning towards the portal. He didn’t look happy, though. What he did do was raise his arms a bit again, seeming to concentrate, as he did something with his hands, before setting his feet a little differently -- almost like the kid was bracing himself. Stan watched as the Bill took in a deep breath, and...

"Now," Bill muttered, after a moment. "Go through _now_."

Miz nodded and strode forward, brushing her hand against Bill briefly, "See you soon," she told, assured him. Bill let out a short laugh at that.

Miz stepped through and felt the rush of the shift. She squeaked when her foot met empty air and flailed her arms around as she fell the intervening distance of--

\--about twelve feet down onto the bouncy castle below her.

Miz sat up after bouncing a few times. Cool, that certainly got her heart pumping...

Dipper and Mabel were at the edges of the castle, having moved off of it. They both looked grim.

" _What’s taking them so long?_ " Dipper demanded out of her, as Mabel pulled out her grappling hook and aimed--

Miz frowned. "How long has it been? They were arguing."

"Three minutes," Dipper said grimly, as Mabel fired the grappling hook through the portal opening.

And then the portal closed.

The string was cut, and fell down onto the bouncy castle.

The three of them stared.

" _What_ ," Dipper breathed out, as he stared up at the place where the portal had been, in pure disbelief.

"Ok. Fuck it. Screw the five minutes, I'm opening my Door," Miz growled as she reached and pulled. It shimmered into existence. Cool. So she still had that other door here in this dimensional set and the other side of this one would be the one following her brother around. Good. It would suck to have to go through the void, take too long. (And heck, she'll leave _this_ door here so she could come back through if the worst happened.)

She reached for the door but Mabel clung to her. "Wait! Take us too!"

"What?! No way, Stan would kill me-- well, not literally, or he might, but I'm sure he wouldn't be happy if I brought you two with me." Miz cried. "Didn't I tell you? My Doors take people through via the Mindscape and Dreamscape! You'd be leaving your bodies behind!"

The twins both grimaced. "But…" Miz scowled.

"Nope. If I drag you two into the Mindscape to come with me, your grunkle’s gonna be pissed." The two looked frustrated. Miz sighed. "Stay here. Stay safe. I'll make sure those idiots ALL come back."

Miz slipped out of her vessel, allowing it to collapse like a sack of potatoes as she flew out and slammed through the door.

\-----

Stan was watching the kid, and he knew the moment Miz was through and back in their dimension without even having to ask, "She’s okay?" ...because the kid let out a whoosh of breath and relaxed so completely and so quickly that he swayed in place and almost looked like he was going to collapse.

"Fine it’s _fINe_ eVeRyThINg is FINE she’s _FINE!!_ " the kid said, as his hands dropped to his sides and he swayed and shivered in place for a moment, eyes wide. "She’s THROUGH, she didn’t bounce -- she’s _fine!!_ " the kid repeated almost hysterically, a laugh underlying his tone…

...and it was about that point that Stan realized what a ‘non-zero probability’ actually _meant_ to the kid: that a 0.000000-however-many-zeros-and-then-a-one probability of failure meant ‘I am almost definitely going to fail’ (...not an ‘I will almost definitely succeed!’ like it _should_...) on anything that the kid thought was _actually important_.

\--Hell, forget ‘unlikely’. Kid didn’t just _like_ certainty; the kid _needed_ it, for certain things. Stan had kind of started to get a feel for that, _yeah_ , thinking that maybe that might be the case for, y’know, a _couple_ things with the kid? But he hadn’t realized _how certain_ the kid might need that ‘certainty’ to be, to--

"Just a minute!" the kid muttered, and then Stan realized that the kid wasn’t _actually relaxed_ , yet. "Stanford next. --Five-four- _three_ minutes at most!" And Bill’s voice and smile were both strange and strained. (And the kid was still shivering a little bit, on and off again.)

(Stan stared at the kid at this. Then Stan realized that Ford was staring at the kid, too, but who knew what his brother was thinking just then...)

"WAIT!" Stan heard, and for a moment, he wondered when his brother had gotten so good at throwing his voice, to sound so far away from him; when the hell had Ford learned to do that? And as Stan turned towards him, something else caught his eye.

And then Stan realized that it wasn’t his older brother calling out to him... or half-tripping over his feet as he tried to run towards them from across the beach. Not exactly. ...Not _quite_.

"Wait-wait--" Stan heard, and he stared as that other young Ford approached them. "wwW--" Young Ford nearly bent over double in front of them, letting out a cough and then wheezing as he staggered to a stop in front of them and braced his hands on his knees, trying to gulp down great breaths.

Stan stared. "Kid, breathe," he told Ford’s younger self, taking a step towards him. And yeah, he’d been expecting _something_ before he went through -- ‘cause how would he be able to ‘fix things’ from their _own_ dimension, huh? it’d have to happen _here_ \-- but Young Ford looked kind of...

...and then Young Ford lifted up his head again, and Stan realized that something was really, _really_ wrong.

" _Did you know?_ " that younger Ford demanded out of him, _them_ , shakily -- he turned and looked over at Ford, also. "Did you _know_ it would break?" He looked and sounded more stressed than Stan had ever seen him in his entire _life_.

Ford winced. "I… I tried to stop Stanley from--" His younger self looked so confused and lost, that Ford couldn’t keep on going, and then something occurred to Ford, and--

Ford gritted his teeth, as any sympathy that Ford had had left, that he’d been trying to work himself up to feeling for that other Stanley? Just _died_ , right then and there.

"It’s better this way," Ford ground out at his younger self instead. Because the only way -- the _only_ way -- that his science experiment could have been broken _again_ , in _this_ way, and for this younger Ford to not know about it? Would be if this younger Stanley had sabotaged it _and gotten away with it this time_.

It meant that Stanley had lied to him about it being an accident, again and still. Lied when he'd said that he hadn’t meant to do it, again and still. That what little they’d said to each other about it, since, had been… really, the _worst_ kind of lie. And Ford had been stewing over this for _hours_ , after he’d seen the curtain, after he’d realized that it hadn’t been an accident, it had _never_ been an accident-- He’d had to stand there and listen to Stan talk about wanting to _fix things_ , all while Stanley had _continued to lie to him about--_

As far as Ford was concerned? This younger version of him _was_ better off without his twin. _Some brother he’d turned out to be._

Young Ford gasped. "WHAT?! What about Stanley-- what?! _Better???_ " he cried out. "How is this--?!" Young Ford looked almost sick with horrified disbelief. "You-- you tried to _stop_ Lee from--??" He shook his head, nothing seeming to make sense to him… until something _did_ make sense, and then that young Ford's eyes went wide and he started to shake, backing away from them slowly.

And then that young Ford turned and ran away.

"Ford, what the _hell_ \--?!" Stan lashed out at him, feeling enraged, hurt, betrayed, and a whole mess of other things he couldn’t even put into words just then. Because what in the hell--?! His brother actually thought that it was _better_ that he’d been kicked out--??? That it was _good_ to have told his younger self that?? When that younger Ford had gone _looking_ for him afterwards and-- Stan hadn’t known Ford had gone _LOOKING_ for him after--

But now his brother thought that he _shouldn’t_ have? That he thought that he had _**deserved--?!?!!**_ \--Why?!

" _Ford!?!_ " Stan demanded, rounding on his brother, wanting (and needing) him to explain.

But all his brother did was stand where he was, not looking at him -- no, _refusing_ to look at him, his head turned away from him, his jaw firm, his fists clenched.

"It’s better this way," Ford repeated, like the echo of a gunshot that was far too close to him to miss, like the back trunk of his own damn car slamming shut on him, like the final pound of the last nail into a empty coffin that he was supposed to be inside, and that was enough, more than enough, just far far too much for him. Stan shook for a moment with rage, and then he turned and ran off after his younger twin’s counterpart -- one who Stan actually still _recognized_ his brother, his twin in.

And then it was Bill and Ford, left standing together by the portal.

And Bill said, just a _little_ too casually in tone (as he stood there shaking slightly in place with tension)... "Aren’t you going to go through?"

Ford felt himself bristle, and he rounded on Bill.

"If you think--" Ford began caustically, "That I am going to leave _my brother alone with you_ \--" because, even after everything, even after **all this** , there was no way in _hell_ that Ford would leave _anyone_ stranded in another dimension not their own -- let alone HIS OWN BROTHER -- with _Bill Cipher_ of all demons, leaving Stanley to Bill Cipher’s nonexistent mercies--

_To HELL with Bill_ for even _SUGGESTING_ it!! --And Ford was shaking in place (at the offense, at the very _implication_ that he might--) and he could feel it, but that hardly mattered at this point to him, because if Bill thought _that_ about him, so very little of him, "--Then you are _**out of your GOD-DAMNED--**_ "

Something came at his head, and Ford barely dodged back a step in time to avoid it, to have it sail by his ear, as Bill cursed and made a twisting motion with his hands a split-second later.

The portal closed.

A line of rope dropped to the sand, along with a… grappling hook attached to the end of it?

Ford stared.

Bill slowly tilted his head. down at it. "Hm-mm-mm." He paused for a moment. "Shooting Star must’ve gotten antsy."

Ford stared down at the grappling hook. And then it occurred to him...

He slowly turned back towards Bill.

"...Why didn’t they just walk back through?" Ford said slowly, with no small dread.

Bill turned towards him. (His eyes were far too wide.)

And he gave Ford a smile.

Ford was about to try to grab Bill and throttle him, to _make_ Bill talk -- protective-armored and clearly strength-enhanced bodysuit be _damned!_ \-- when he heard a yell that was both familiar and not.

" _WHERE IS HE!?_ " he heard, and he turned to see an angry-looking young Stanley jogging forward towards them across the sand.

It wasn’t a guilty sort of anger either. It looked like more of a _righteous_ one, and it left Ford feeling wrong-footed.

"--What?" Ford blurted out, while Bill said promptly, "--He ran back to the boat. My Stanley ran after him after this idiot here couldn’t keep his mouth shut on things he knows nothing about," and it left Ford speechless, whipping his head back around towards him.

Young Stan didn’t waste any time. He just skidded to a stop, turned on his heel, and ran for the boat.

Ford stood there, staring after that young Stan, after he’d gotten over his initial shock.

Because that young Stan didn’t look guilty. He didn’t even look _scared_. He’d just looked **angry** and… and _worried_. Horribly, and horrifically worried.

And then it occurred to Ford: he may not know his brother all that well _anymore_ , but…

...Stan hadn’t _actually_ been **that** good of a liar at that age, had he? Really, the only proof Ford had of _that_ , of Stan being that good at it back then, was because of what had happened with the...

...with the…

...with…

Ford stared after that young Stanley Pines, as the boy jogged up to the boat off in the distance, and made the short climb, and made his way across the deck, to disappear inside it. He did it all without the _least_ bit of hesitation to his movements, whatsoever.

Ford felt Bill’s eyes on him.

And he heard Bill turn away from him, after a few long moments.

"I wove in a bit of a trick to this one portal connection, this time," Bill said in his usual somewhat-conversational sing-song tones (for Bill), _as if nothing at all was wrong_. "Just-- just _wait_ a few moments, I’ll get it back open!" Bill said next, not-quite enthusiastically (...as if Ford hadn’t _just_ told him that he _wasn’t_ going to leave without…) "And you can go _right on_ \--"

Ford stopped listening to him. He just started walking towards the boat.

\-------

Bill didn't realize Ford had moved off at first, as he froze in place and stared off to his side, eyes wide as the Door that had been ‘following’ him around slammed open--

\--and Miz tumbled out.

(Bill unconsciously relaxed _immediately_ upon seeing her.)

"What the FUCK has been happening here?!" she shrieked. "Nevermind, I can make a guess!" she snarled, eyes Flickering and expression turning LIVID. The sand swirled about and she crafted a new vessel, fuming.

Bill stared at her for a few moments.

Then Bill said, almost tentatively, "...That wasn’t five minutes?"

Bill had been expecting her to stick to the five-minute mark. He’d planned on reopening the next portal to get them through at the three-minutes-later mark; if she’d stuck to the five-minutes, they would have all been through -- seemingly, to them -- right away. But she hadn’t, and that had thrown off Bill’s timetable. He… hadn’t really LIKED the idea of being out-of-sync with her for so long (and he still felt ~~nervous~~ shivery for some reason at the thought of that), but he could’ve checked. Every so often. It… would have been fine? --He’d need to get USED TO the idea of his ~~suicidal~~ little sister not being around and with-him-nearby ~~where he couldn’t help her~~ _sooner or later_ , because she’d be leaving him eventually ~~and WHO KNEW when she’d be coming back again after that, if she didn’t get herself killed first~~ … right?

Bill _ALSO_ wasn’t used to interacting with an **angry** sibling. ~~(That was a big part of the reason why he was going to fix EVERYTHING first, before bringing Liam back. To avoid any sort of problem like that.)~~ So Bill wasn’t entirely certain what to say or do? (He’d never been angry at Liam before ~~not while he’d been alive, and he’d only really been angry with Liam about him not fighting back and ending up murdered~~ and Liam had never been angry with _him_ ~~...not HIS Liam~~.)

Miz turned a smoldering glare onto him before stomping off through the sand towards the boat. "Stupid-- of all the-- AAAauUuGgh!!" She raved.

Bill followed after her, feeling a bit relieved that she was there with him, even if he also felt oddly uncomfortable with the anger that he was a _little_ worried that he might be about to be on the receiving end of.

"I… got you through the lock just fine?" Bill tried next, unsure.

"...That you did. Good job. But the twins were getting impatient-- did you know that they ACTUALLY tried to come WITH me?! Like-- what EVEN the FUCK!?!" Miz stomped through the sand, the particles swirling around her in sharp waves.

Bill blinked. Oh. So she wasn’t all that angry with _him_ personally, just his Zodiac. Bill relaxed a bit.

"Pine Tree spent twelve hours in the Mindscape, he probably thinks he could handle it for however-long," Bill told her. "Shooting Star has no idea; not really. They both jump into things with almost zero sense, because _adventure_ ," Bill told her. "Why do you think I ‘tattle’ on them whenever I hear they’re going to go out into the woods on their own or with that Stanford, and won’t put together a space-capable ‘shuttle’ taxi for Shooting Star? --She’d _use_ it," he told his younger sibling, as they both approached the boat.

That got him an almost amused snort. "STILL don't know how they survived this long…" Miz grumbled.

Bill suddenly looked VERY interested in the starry sky above them. Very, _very_ interested. Very, carefully _not-talkative_ interested. Miz turned back to glare at him. "You know what? I'm not even gonna touch on that right now, I have a certain Stanford to TURN INSIDE OUT for being a FUCKING douche-nozzle!"

Bill stopped in place and all expression dropped off his face at the ‘INSIDE OUT’.

He flung up a hand and a wall of sand shot up in front of Miz, ten feet tall and just as wide, blocking her most direct route forward towards the boat.

Miz paused, visibly trying to calm herself. "Not literally," she managed to grind out between clenched teeth.

"No," Bill said almost quietly. "That’s a mental attack. On purpose." He pulled in a breath. "You aren’t part of the agreement. I…" Bill swallowed. He didn’t even like _thinking_ of trying to stop her. The wall he’d felt it necessary to put up right _now_ was almost… "Stanford isn’t either, but Shooting Star and Pine Tree… and Stanley..."

Bill struggled to explain. "Even if they aren’t watching when it happens, it matters if it happens. It matters to them, still." Bill clenched his teeth. "And they’re MY Zodiac," he told her, at the last, though he KNEW she wouldn’t understand that part of it… But the other things? She’d been human once. He half-expected her to understand THAT, at least. "Nobody attacks my Zodiac without my say-so, my allowance, and my forbearance," Bill told her quietly. He’d made that decision himself, a long time ago, and he wasn’t going to be changing his mind on it anytime soon. There were rules, for a game involving that Stanford, but… those were mostly out the window and on-hold while the agreement was on.

Miz took a few, deep careful breaths. "Right." Her fists were tightly clenched until her nails broke the skin and she trembled. "Right." She repeated. "I won't… tear him a new one, but he _hurt_ Stanley. So… will he at LEAST get a penalty for that?" She was shaking, trying SO hard not to lose her temper.

Bill smiled slightly, coldly. His eyes were sharp.

(He made a short gesture and a soft ‘tch’ing sound.)

"I’m going to be bringing ‘Ford back, first thing, once Stanley is satisfied with how he’s fixed things here, and we’re all back in his home dimension again," Bill told his sister quietly, taking a step towards her. He all but _HAD_ to, in order to fix the agreement. To undo his having ‘messed with’ Stan’s family. The agreement was predicated on all of Stan’s family being alive and well -- their being ‘un-messed with’. It was a LIE, an agreement predicated and founded on a LIE -- even though Bill hadn’t realized it at the time, because Bill hadn’t known that ‘brother’ was a part of Stan’s ‘family’ at the time, sitting outside of his head and _TALKING_ with him through all the ways and means of things -- and it would be a LIE until Bill FIXED it and made it all TRUE, INSTEAD.

(All Bill needed to do was be careful enough about things -- what he said and how he said it, what Miz said while helping her stop herself before saying too much -- that he could get away with the lie until it wasn't a lie anymore. Because he’d fixed it and made it true instead. For courtesy.)

"It will _hurt_ him, that Stanford," Bill told her took another step. "He will give Stanley up himself; he can’t not! Not after _he_ knows." Because Bill knew how that Stanford defined ‘brother’, too; he’d known THAT for a VERY long time… in human timescales.

And that Stanford’s definition of ‘brother’ was VERY different from Stanley’s.

(And he would SUFFER for it. Bill would see to it. He would see to that.)

~~_(Because he DESERVED it. For thinking that a ‘brother’ was ONLY a--)_ ~~

Bill took another step, right up to stand right beside her, and he had a gleam to his eyes. "I will trick him into giving me permission to go downstairs with him, and I will bring Stanley’s twin brother back from the dead, and _that Stanford_ …" Bill breathed out, then breathed in.

"No matter what happens, _he will HURT_ ," Bill told her quietly, slowly, in a voice that did not carry -- inside a bubble of sound that he had thrown up, even though he KNEW from the surveillance readings he was getting from his suit that none of the four Pines in that boat currently could do anything to hear -- that NO-ONE else could hear.

They would never see it coming. ~~(As long as Stanley didn’t figure it out first. As long as Stanley didn’t notice the little discrepancies here, with…)~~

Miz paused before nodding stiffly. "Alright. Alright then." she shuddered, slowly winding down, breathing with her eyes squeezed tight.

"I’m sorry you have to put up with being around my Stanford," Bill repeated his apology, saying out loud this time what he’d been thinking when he’d apologized to her before, that second night.

Miz sighed, relaxing her muscles. "Not your fault you got stuck with a walking asshole in human form for a Zodiac," she assured him. Miz breathed a few more times. "Ok. I think I'm sufficiently calm enough now." She turned to Bill, looking much better -- not great, but better. "So can we help Stan fix this now?"

Bill nodded slightly, waving a hand to collapse the sand wall back into the surface of the beach-proper again. "He is annoying!" Bill agreed of his Stanford, relaxing much more completely as he saw Miz relaxing and seemingly no longer (outwardly) angry herself. "I’ve had thirty-three years to get used to it," Bill admitted. "I forgot that you don’t even have much experience in this lifetime of yours with humans, yet!" And he didn’t usually forget things, not for _ANY_ length of time. (That was odd; shouldn’t he have thought of that…?)

"No one that I've personally known in the long term. Just some summoners here and there for Deals back in my Earth." Miz sighed, slumping a little as her rage finally, for the most part, subsided. She just couldn’t stay angry very long, keep her away from the target of her ire for a few minutes and she would just calm down, too worn out to continue.

Bill decided it was safe enough to pat Miz on the head now, and so he patted her on the head a few times. After all, control of rage was something to give praise for, yes?

They walked until they were almost to the side of the boat.

"You may want to Look at anything you might want to See now, instead of waiting until we’re inside," Bill told his little sister. He was… _very_ sure that Stanley would not want to change things in the past; not after this, not after going this route in staying and interacting with the younger set here, and now. "If you start shrieking things out inside? And rolling around on the ground?" Like she had the last few times she’d done that? "That will be a _PROBLEM_ ," Bill warned her. (He needed her to not give away any of the things that would have Stanley realizing-- and have him realizing that the agreement was BROKEN before Bill FIXED it.)

Miz nodded, Flickering. The details came into focus. She paused.

"Hey brother?" she asked calmly, the type of calm before a storm. "Do you think anyone would mind if I tore out Filbrick's eyes and fed them to him through his nose?"

Bill blinked at her (not picking up on her anger at all).

"WELL." Bill thought about this. "Filbrick might?" Bill put out there, not bothering to go any further than that. (...Because, technically, Filbrick himself was an ‘anyone’? And most humans tended to not enjoy that sort of thing, Filbrick being one of them? That seemed like enough of a reason, by what she’d asked for; no need to say anything more.)

Miz nodded. "Ah. That he would." She didn't sound like that would stop her though. And that didn’t bother Bill in the least…

...in no small part because (not being human and not having human thought processes) Bill didn’t really make the implied connection between Miz’s tone and the previous, somewhat-general question that had been posed to him by her.

Miz was also thinking about horrible things to do to a certain someone else as well. But that could come later. Yes. She was going to take her time with that one...

Miz might not be mad anymore, but she was a vindictive little shit.

The two demons came to a stop in the sand and stared up at the boat.

Bill decided to use the sand to get them both up there this time, and with a gesture he raised it up in a pillar for them both, underneath their feet. They stepped off onto the deck, and he let it fall down again. Miz was frowning. "Should probably ask the Stans first if they might mind if I mess with Filbrick." Bill glanced over before shrugging. He didn’t consider ‘parents’ to be ‘family’ as Stanley defined it, so he didn’t see any potential problem with Filbrick being ‘messed with’ by her.

Bill walked over to the hatch and opened it up, and he and Miz slowly descended the ladder, down and down and down below-decks...

...and down in the bottom of the hold, was where they found them all.

The Stans were all there, down in the dark gloomy barely-(lighter-)lit hold. Stan was crouched down on the floor, by the sloping side of the boat, speaking with young Ford and young Stanley in soft tones. Stan had his arms around them both, in what was halfway between a hug and just holding them. He didn’t look happy, even less so with Ford, who he sent a long glance back at from time to time. (Ford was standing off to the side, arms crossed, leaning against one of the bracing beams in the middle of the ship.)

Miz wasn’t all that happy with the older Stanford either right now.

"YOU!" she snarled, stomping over to Stanford.

...or started to. She made it forward the first two feet, but then Bill reached out and simply grabbed her by the back of her shirt collar, stopping her forward momentum, while saying quite mildly, "No. Bad Miz."

Ford startled slightly upon hearing Miz, and turned halfway towards them at hearing both her and Bill. He looked pale, even in the low light levels, and was…

Miz blinked, because Ford _looked_ quiet, almost withdrawn, and more than a little sick, his expression strained, almost haunted, as he gripped at one arm across his chest with his other hand.

Miz opened her mouth, paused and closed it. She huffed angrily and turned away from Ford. "Not supposed to attack him. Both mentally AND physically…" she muttered to herself. She straightened, outright ignoring Ford now, and addressed the humans here that she WASN’T mad at. "So, hypothetically speaking~ if a certain mean, awful father were to suddenly lose his eyes…"

"-- _ **No**_ ," Stan said immediately, heavily, and with more than a little anger to his voice, while the two younger set looked downright confused at what they’d thought was just an angry rhetorical question in poor taste.

Miz sighed. "But what about a certain saboteur, who isn’t any of the people here in this room?" That made the younger Stanford straighten and stare past Stan’s shoulder at her, eyes wide.

Bill made a ‘tsk’ing sound at her, annoyed. "Dlb'e sopq kqot wq hapb'vh glhesg ekaw fxf jsm, dls." ( _< Don't even know if they've gotten that far yet, sis.>_) to which Miz responded with a grumpy sound.

Stan turned on him, glaring. "--You could’ve _said something earlier_." He’d started down that train of thought a minute or so before, but… that the kid had actually _known_ and **not said anything** \--!!

Stan closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to breathe.

(--Hell. Of course the kid had known. He had that stupid Seeing-Eye thing going. And he’d practically ‘seen’ his whole life at some point, Stan was pretty sure, so why would he have left out seeing _that?_ Fuck.)

\--Because this whole damn life-ruining I-want-to-see-how-you-fix-it ‘not a game’ thing was, as far as the kid was concerned, all about Stan ‘learning’ what it could be like when the kid _didn’t_ tell him things. Because Stan had rushed into things after the niblings and not asked the kid anything first, and hardly _let_ him say anything at all. Practically ignored him when the kid had tried, even if the kid hadn’t tried all that _hard_ to tell him anything before they’d ‘jumped’ their way here.

(...Yeah, Stan knew damn well that he hadn’t been in a listening ‘mood’. He couldn’t blame the kid all that much for that. --Could blame him _some_ , definitely felt like he had a right to be angry as _hell_ with him, sure, but… If he’d thought the kid was _stalling_ going after the kids to get ‘em back, Stan knew he straight-up might’ve actually verbally bitten the kid’s head off for it, _or worse_. ...For keeping him from the kids for even a _second_ longer than--)

Miz huffed. "Can’t I just _tell_ them? Please?" She glanced over at Stan. "Hypothetically, if I took _their_ eyes…"

"...There was more than one saboteur?" the young Ford asked shakily, wiping at his eyes under his glasses, and pushing away from Stan slightly, to turn his head a little to look at her.

"Naw, just one, I’m just playing the pronoun game so you don’t know who it is, since brother says I’m not supposed to spoil it… but I really want to..." Miz whined.

"No physically attacking or damaging or hurting _anybody_ unless and until they _physically_ attack you _first_ ," Stan stressed to the demon outright. "And you stop _immediately_ if and when _they_ stop. No killing, period. Not unless I say different."

Bill eyed Stan, but Miz just sighed. "Fine. I’m just… really mad at them. That person. Because they did this on purpose. To try and hurt him." Miz pointed at young Ford. (Bill rolled his eyes at her and finally let go of the back of her collar, to cross his arms at her, instead.)

"If you’re going to be giving out ‘hints’, oh little sister mine," Bill told her, ‘At _least_ try and make sure that you aren't giving any of them the WRONG IDEA." Because, technically, the person who had sabotaged the experiment? Hadn't _only_ wanted to hurt Ford, out of the two of the twins. They just felt that they’d gotten their revenge on Stan already! (And even Bill, bad as he truly was at actually understanding how the Pines thought, knew that the way Miz had put it would send all the Pines in attendance down entirely the wrong set of paths.)

"Fine. They wanted to hurt the BOTH of you." Miz crossed her arms and sat down on one of the nearby benches. "They already hurt Stan, hurting Ford is just them being EXTRA." She frowned. "And petty." Now all the Stans, past and future, were staring at her.

Bill sighed heavily, and picked his way across the hold, to sit down behind to Stan and then slump down against him, putting his back to Stanley’s back. He felt Stanley’s back shift behind him, a little like Stan was about ready to buck a bit and shove him off, and Bill muttered an "I’M TIRED," at Stanley. That got Bill a huff that sounded and felt a little angry, from the tension of the back muscles he was leaning up against. --Bill didn’t care too much about THAT, though; _that_ was well within his expectations of Stanley’s behavior, at present.

"Portals take energy," Bill muttered, slumping down a little further and closing his eyes, figuring that ought to be enough to prevent a ‘bucking’.

"Thought you wanted to ‘see’ me ‘fix’ things," was what Stanley dryly told him next, and Bill didn’t even bother opening his eyes, as he worked at calmed his own breathing down, for good measure.

"I can hear you just fine," Bill muttered. He didn’t feel like explaining in detail how the surveillance and recording functions of his bodysuit functioned, currently, so he didn’t even bother to try.

Miz folded her hands in her lap. "Can I spoil things? Or do you want me to just sit and observe for now?" and Bill hummed out, "Observe."

Stan felt Bill resituate himself a bit at his back -- felt mostly like the kid's legs -- and his breathing slowed down even further, from what Stan could tell. Stan saw Miz nod at the kid, out of the corner of his eye. Stan sighed and turned back to the boys.

"Alright, so apparently someone messed with your project," Stan said with a frown. He didn’t think either of them were lying, except with the way the kid kept getting at not wanting them to get the ‘wrong idea’ about things… Stan shook it off; he still felt angry and hurt at what Ford had said earlier, and he knew he was off his game. He had to be careful here.

"--These two say there's a saboteur, who isn’t anyone here." Stan said, and he could see Ford twitch at his choice of words out of the corner of his other eye. Yeah, well... he couldn’t help but grimace himself.

Because the whole thing really didn't make one lick of sense to Stan, still.

He’d gotten down here before Ford had. He’d seen his younger twin’s… well, uh, _kind of_ a twin’s duffel bag. Same one as he’d had thrown at him back when Pa threw _him_ out all those years ago. He’d never thought of it before. How Pa had seemed to have it ready and waiting. Not really. --He’d sort of _guessed_ that maybe the old man had been wanting to toss him out on his ear for awhile there, and he’d been _really_ damn angry about it when he’d first thought of it, way back when. But. When he’d vented it to his ma that once on the phone? She’d read him the riot act; said Pa would never do that. ...He’d stopped calling home so much after that, and he’d never brought it up again, but it’d always kind of sunk a weight on him ever since. Never sat well with him. Ma had always been so _sure_ , and… It had always felt like she’d taken his side, and Stan had never known what to think. It had left him feelin’ all mixed up inside, so he’d tried not to ever think about it…

But the duffel bag was _here_. Once he’d come down after this… younger Ford, and… the kid had been an absolute wreck, barely been able to string a sentence together after what Ford had told him. He hadn’t managed to piece together what wasn’t making any sense at all, until the younger-him had practically jumped down the hatch into the hold, to rush up and over and practically shove him out of the way to hug his brother…

It hadn’t made sense until the younger-him had started babbling out shit about _the fight_ and _getting kicked out_ , and… Stan had had to ask his younger self straight-out what had happened. And that younger Stan had told him, teary-eyed and raging and just… angry at _everything_ \--

Stan had felt like the blood had drained right out of him into the floor of the hold. He hadn’t been able to believe it.

_Ford_ had gotten kicked out. Not Stan.

Ford had gotten _kicked out_ , because the science fair project _hadn’t worked_.

...And not just because it hadn’t worked. Oh, no. He’d gotten kicked out, because he hadn’t been able to _sell it to those fancy school guys anyway_.

Because when had Pa ever not been able to sell something that was plain and flat-out _junk_ to somebody?

...With no preparation whatsoever. Because they’d skipped school, and their parents hadn’t told them what was coming up the next day, because if they thought they could just skip and be fine, then they could damn well show him that.

Except Ford wasn’t the one who could talk anybody into just about anything. Not without at least some idea of _what the hell was going on_ , beyond a ‘don’t worry, you’ll do just fine, honey’ from their ma, and a threatening ‘how they’d get their hides tanned if they skipped school tomorrow’ from their pa. Which made it sound like _something_ was going to be happening in school the next day, but this younger Ford had walked into it cold, and...

...he was a Pines, and Filbrick had expected him to sell himself as some genius to these fancy school jerks, that he should at least know how to sell _that_ kinda shit that he was always doing, that the principal had talked up to him and ma so much in the principal’s office the day before. --And hey, if he couldn’t sell his _science_ to _somebody_ , then what good was he? If he couldn’t make money off his science, then what did it even matter if he was smart or had the best grades in school? If he couldn’t make money -- make _millions_ \-- with it, then he was just useless.

Stan was in shock at hearing what had happened -- what Filbrick had said, as he’d thrown Ford out, what he’d threatened as this younger Stan had tried to _stop_ him -- and it had left him staring and feeling cold.

And then, finally, it had occurred to him. Why Ford had had the duffel bag with him, sitting on the floor of the hold next to him. Why it _hadn’t_ been with his younger self. And what it might _mean_ that…

Stan had felt a shock of dread as he’d reached forward and pulled it to him, ripped open the duffel bag, gone through the clothing inside -- the same, the _exact same_ as his had had in it -- pulling pieces out and shoving them back in, more and more frantically. It had been the only clothing he’d had for weeks, _months_ \-- he’d known each piece like the back of his hand, stitched every last one of them up over the years until they just hadn’t _fit_ anymore, been falling apart on him-- and he’d wondered why this young _Ford_ had had it on him…

He’d thought his pa had been stupid about it, mixing up his clothing with Ford’s. It had been maybe, what, half-and-half almost? --Not that Filbrick had ever really paid attention to half the shit either of them had worn, since they’d just swapped clothing for awhile there, but… there had been almost no t-shirts in there, a couple wife-beaters sure, but mostly collared shirts and pants instead of jeans and...

...it had really been more of what Ford wore than what Stan did, now that Stan really thought about it. He never really had before. He’d just been annoyed that this was his, and this was Ford’s, and his old man _still_ hadn’t been able to keep their shit straight, and Ford wasn’t talking to him...

It didn’t make sense that the bag had _already_ been packed and waiting for him. Not until then.

Because it _hadn’t_ been already packed and waiting for him.

It had been packed and waiting _for Ford_.

_**...The bag had always been meant for Ford.** _

But… if the duffle had always been meant for Ford, if Pa had prepared it beforehand to kick Ford out the second he saw him -- the very _second_ he came home…

...except Ford had run into him first. Playing paddleball. On the couch.

Ford had come home late from school, and when Ford had come home, he’d kicked up a fuss, accusing Stan of breaking his project _first thing_. And Ford had come in the back way. Pa hadn’t grabbed him first; Ford had run into _Stan_ first.

Pa had probably heard from the school what had happened that afternoon, because _of course_ the principal would’ve called him and ma, to let them know the bad news, first-thing -- hey, better luck next time, except there was gonna be no next time, that had been Ford’s one big shot at anything. And _of course_ Pa would’ve had the time to decide what he was gonna do about it.

Pa hadn’t known about Stan breaking the project, until he’d heard Ford yelling, stormed into the room, heard what Ford was yelling at him…

And then Pa had had a different target. Not Ford, the six-fingered freak; but Stan, the screw-up son. Because how could Ford have succeeded with Stan _sabotaging him_ outright?

So Pa had gotten angry at _him_ instead. Pa had told _him_ that he’d cost them millions. Pa had thrown _him_ out instead of Ford. Because it was _his_ fault for breaking Ford’s project and ruining Ford’s chance to sell it. Because Stan could screw up just about _anything_ so badly that there was just _no way_ of it being okay, no matter how good anybody was at selling it; Pa hadn’t sold him short on that.

...The worst part was, the kid had been _right_. The goddamn demon _had been right_. --If it was a choice between _him_ getting kicked outta the house and his brother? Stan would’ve taken the fall for it, hands-down. He couldn’t regret what had happened anymore.

Not if what he was seeing here was the result. Staring at the two younger twins in front of him, sitting next to each other, hugging each other -- one desperately and crying his eyes out, one fiercely protective and glaring, spitting figurative fire out at the world.

If he’d known...

...hell, he’d have been _proud_ of it.

And, in thinking all of these things, Stan had reached out to the two young twins both and pulled them over to him in a hug.

And when Ford had descended the ladder… Stann hadn’t even had it in him to say anything. He’d just felt… tired.

Because what was he gonna say? _‘I didn’t ruin your life, I **saved** it?’_ Like Ford coulda survived out on the streets on his own, back then. ...Freaking forty years gone, and they were still fighting over this?

Stan had been absolutely and completely done with this shit.

He’d been even more done with the two demons making their way back in. (...Hell, the other one was back now, too?)

But the whole thing _still_ really didn't make one lick of sense to him.

Because hell, there being some kinda saboteur this time around? --Seriously, the hell? It had been _him_ who’d broken it, not anybody else. Right?

And that was the thing that didn’t make sense. This younger version of himself _hadn’t_ broken Ford’s science fair project -- he couldn’t have. He hadn’t known about the whole fancy school guys thing; he hadn’t even gone near the school the night before, hadn’t even left the house. So… what did that _mean?_ \--Had somebody else really broken it? Actually and outright sabotaged it? Just like Miz said?

Who would have sabotaged it for these two, but not when it had been _them?_ If somebody was gonna sabotage it, then wouldn’t it have happened _both_ times?

_He_ was the one who’d broken Ford’s science fair project, punching that table way-back-when, and broken it…

...because that little panel had come off, and then...

...all that smoke had come out, and then...

...all that smoke had _stopped_ , and then...

...the thing had just kept on spinning...

...and he’d put that little panel back on, it had just been a little loose in the screws...

...

...

Wait…

... _had_ he broken Ford’s science fair project?

It _had_ been _moving_ when he’d left it that night.

And… that panel had been loose.

Ford knew how to tap screwholes in things. ...Sure, half the time he did it _backwards_ , from the _wrong side_ , because apparently righty-tighty-lefty-loosey was too _easy_ for a brainiac to get right half the time, but--

Oh. Oh _shit_.

Stan’s head came up.

If Ford had tapped the screwholes wrong, and somebody had come by with a screwdriver to fuck with his project… they would’ve stripped every last one of those screws getting that panel open. Those screws would’ve been barely sitting in those stripped-out holes. _Of course_ that panel would’ve come off.

And if some other person had done that… then what Ford had yelled at him about sabotage before suddenly made sense. And why he’d come home only so many hours later, so late it had almost been dark out, when the fancy school guy showing-off thing had happened almost right after school. He would’ve checked out his project before coming home, to try and figure out exactly what had gone wrong. Right? Except...

…Ford had said it was him because of the candy bag found ‘at the scene of the crime’. And Ford should’ve known that he’d _never_ do anything like that to him on purpose. Not _sabotage_ him outright. Not like that.

Stan frowned furiously, mad at his brother all over again.

This… this whole damn thing had been… it had just been...

Stan shook his head. Still didn’t really make sense. If that thing had been sabotaged first, before Stan had got there that night, then shouldn’t it have already not been working when he’d gotten there?

\--Did it really matter? If Stan had been given a choice between Ford getting kicked outta the house, and having to break the damn project and get kicked out himself, he’d _still_ have broken the damn project and gotten kicked out himself. _On purpose_. To hell with it.

Stan glanced over at his brother, who was leaning against the wall, not looking at him.

Ford had gotten an earful from the younger-Stan when he’d gotten in, after what that younger Ford had stuttered out at him hoping for comfort (‘...that you, you shouldn’t have tried to stand up to Pa for me...‘) and what that younger-him had said in reply (‘--the hell? Why the hell _wouldn’t_ I try to tell Pa not to throw you out? That guy’s an _idiot_ , I don’t _care_ if he’s supposed to be you -- and I’m not goin’ _anywhere_ , why d’you think I’m here now!? --I’m not lettin’ him tell me what to do! Or Pa! And if he tries to say I _shouldn’t_ \--!!’), so Ford knew at least the broad strokes of what was up -- that the younger Ford was the one who had gotten kicked out this time -- but…

Stan hadn’t said anything about the duffel bag to Ford yet.

…and he wasn’t going to. (Fuck it. Fuck _him_. The damn stupid, unimpressible, greedy old man.) Filbrick was a complete and utter--

Stan pulled in a hard breath.

...that didn’t mean that _these_ kids would have to deal with any of _that_ , though. Not if _he_ had anything to say about it, Stan figured. And he did.

And he would _make_ the kid help him with it.

Miz spoke up, momentarily interrupting Stan’s (angry) chain of thought as she said, "Can I at least answer 'yes’, ‘no’, or ‘no spoilers’ to any questions?"

Bill let out a chittery chuckle at her and said, "NO," then added, with even more weight, "You OBSERVE."

Stan clenched his jaw, about to tell the kid off, because _how was **this** helping_\--

"You don't need it. She'll just confuse things, because _she_ is confused," the demon kid at his back murmured to Stan under his breath, in actual _cautionary_ tones…

...and Stan stopped still for a moment, then closed his eyes and _forced_ himself to breath in deeply. Right. Okay. The name of the 'game' here was _listen to the kid_. Not his sister; listen to the kid. Kid hadn't been talking before, but he was... talking now. It was past 8pm that night; Stan could demand that the kid explain himself _now_ , if it came down to it.

(Did that even mean that there really _was_ a ‘saboteur’? Or was the kid’s kid-sister ‘ _confused_ ’ on that, too? ...What did ‘sabotage’ even _mean_ to the kid?)

Stan opened his eyes and let out that breath. Hell with it. He could do this. He was doing this.

(...because the kid wanted to see what happened. Stan knew he could ask the kid all sorts of junk now, sure -- except the kid _didn't know **how** to fix this_, and the kid wanted to see how _he'd_ fix it himself. The kid might know what happened, but the kid was a demon, didn't think like they did. And without the human context and understanding…? The kid would probably screw it up, the same way or worse than he thought his kid sister might.)

(...And Stan wasn't stupid. This was a test -- part of the audition; not just ‘a show’. If he depended on the kid _or_ the dragon-lady right now for answers, when the kid had _said_ he was watching to see what Stan did, waiting to see what he'd do, and _looking forward to it_ … when the kid had said before that he thought Stan could figure this out by himself ~~at the very least for what was happening right here and now~~ … If he depended on the kid too much _now_ , that would send the **entirely** wrong message to the kid -- the absolute _opposite_ of the message Stan wanted to send, in fact.)

(Part of the reason that Stan had set up the agreement the way that he had was that it set him up as independent; it didn't just put him in charge as a final authority. And if Stan had to start depending on the kid for a bunch of stuff he didn't need to, then that triangle demon wouldn't think he was just taking shortcuts. No. Instead, the kid would probably just think that he couldn't _do_ it himself, and then...)

Stan could figure this out himself. He didn't need the kid for this.

Time to fix things, and show the kid just _who_ he was messing with.

(The kid was gonna get a penalty-and-a-half for all this mess, once they were all home again. Kid shouldn't've kept _any_ of this to himself, right from the start. Putting these younger kids through this shit for no damn reason…)

"Alright," Stan said. "You two are a mess right now. We are gonna talk about what happened with your project tomorrow, after you get some sleep--"

"--I can’t sleep!" the young Ford protested. "I-- I-- Where am I even _going_ to--" and Stan sighed deeply, because this young Ford was frantic and… Stan reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, fine," Stan said, shaking his shoulder slightly. "You tell me what happened with the fancy college guys _now_ , get it outta your system, and _then_ we pull out the sleeping blankets and junk and you settle in for the night, here.

"...Here?" the young Ford said almost plaintively, blinking at him. The younger Stan was frowning at him.

"Your boat, remember? We’re just pirating it," Stan told him.

"--It’s Stan’s boat," the young Ford said almost immediately, which got him a punch in the shoulder from his twin just as quickly. "-- _Our_ boat," the younger twin said emphatically. "Was gonna get us a hotel for the night, but…" he glanced between Stan and Ford. "...This is, uh…"

"Better," Stan said. "Me and Ford here’ll get the thing fixed up better-still. Livable; don’t you worry about that. Gonna have to share it with us in the meantime, though." The younger Stan frowned at him, almost suspiciously.

"It’s too cold down here to sleep," the younger Stan said, and Stan poked the kid behind him.

"Bill, get this thing some heat or whatever without settin’ anything on fire, wouldja? Climate control. --You got those planks still on you? From the roof?" The twins looked at him with confusion, but the demon-kid at his back muttered something at him and slowly started messing with something behind his back, so Stan left him to it. (...And tried to ignore the heavy ‘thwacks’ as the kid apparently thought _tossing_ those chicken-scratch ‘runed’-up planks to opposite sides of the ship was ‘good enough’ for the night here. Hell.)

"Planks?" the young Ford said, confused as he wiped at his face again, and Stan just shrugged.

"Gotta a couple of demons, here," Stan said, tossing a thumb at the one at his back and then over at Miz. " _Mostly_ friendly. Kinda. Sometimes. --Don’t ask ‘em for favors," Stan said, as he saw the look the young Ford got on his face. "Barely got a handle on this one as it is," he said, glancing behind his back at the kid. "You done?" he asked, and got a low chitter back that was pretty much the equivalent of a grunt, if he understood the kid right from context. (Wasn’t the first time he’d heard it from him.) Stan turned back to the twins. "Give it a minute to work."

"But--" the young Ford began.

"Fancy college guys who are jerks, science fair project, c’mon," Stan said, making a ‘gimmie’ motion with his hand at this younger-twin. It startled out a laugh from him, that just left him startled at _having_ laughed after that.

Stan waited.

"...You look older than _Pa_ ," the younger Ford complained, shifting in place. He looked and sounded like what Stan was pulling on him -- the gruff old man routine -- just wasn’t fair. ...Well, _yeah_ it wasn’t. Was kinda the point. Heh.

"Don’t you go ‘old man’ning me," Stan said in warning tones. "‘Old man’ nothin’. --Bet I can flatten his ass with one good punch," Stan told the young Ford, startling another laugh out of him again. Then Stan tried levelling with him. "Look, ain’t nothing you can say that’s gonna make _me_ want to kick you off this boat," Stan told him. "So go on. Do your worst," he challenged him with a grin (which had Ford looking over at him slowly…).

The young Ford wiped at his eyes again (while his brother kept rubbing his back). He took in a deep breath, and said, finally, "I… I went to the principal’s office when they called me. On the intercom," he began. "Just me." He glanced over at Stan. "Stan came, ‘cause they never call us solo. He stayed at the office; they asked me why I wasn’t at the gymnasium already, getting ready? I, uh…" the kid looked nervous. "I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare…" He trailed off, working his hands in his lap nervously.

"Yeah," Stan said. "Go on."

"They said a bunch of fancy college guys wanted to see his project," the young Stan said next, picking up the thread almost belligerently. "Wanted him there with it, ‘case they had questions? Told me to go back to class; I’d just screw it up." He glanced at his twin. "--If I’d known he was supposed t’ _sell_ something, I coulda swapped with him!" he said angrily, and Stan tried to ignore how Ford startled slightly out of the corner of his eye, straightening in place.

"When did ya know they were there thinking about having you go to some big fancy school?" Stan prompted them both.

"--When they told me I didn’t make the cut!" the young Ford said, sounding almost aggrieved. "I thought they were interested in the _science_ , but they just--!" he shook his head. "It doesn’t matter," he said bitterly, clenching his fists in his lap. "I got there, and I started presenting it, and it just--" and the poor kid just cringed inward and _shook_ where he sat.

"Tell me," Stan said quietly, and this younger Ford just blurted out all-at-once, finally, "--It was like a _nightmare!_ I-- I just-- I was talking, explaining it all, and--" He gestured around frantically. "It _blew up_ with smoke!" he said shrilly. "It just-- It made this _HORRIBLE_ sound and--" His eyes were wide and he clutched at the sides of his head, pulling at his hair as he said, "I turned around and the _whole spindle_ just-- there weren’t any _electronics_ in there!" the young Ford cried out, cringing. "It doesn’t make any _sense!!_ It just-- there was _smoke_ and-- it couldn’t have been the lubricant, could it?!" he said next looking up at them both, Stan and then his twin. "I-- I can’t-- there shouldn’t have been _that_ much friction--!!"

"You can check the equations later," Stan said as gently as he could (which had Ford staring at him for some reason). "What happened next."

"--The whole thing ground to a halt," the young Ford said with a shudder. "Everything just-- and I couldn’t _explain_ \--" He was starting to cry again, and the younger Stan swept him up in a hug.

Stan watched them both, and he let out a deep sigh.

"Okay," Stan said heavily, then winced at himself. "That ain’t okay, but we’ll figure it out." (It was different from what had happened with the one with Ford's, all right, but… yeah, that smoke thing sounded off.)

"It’s _too late_ ," the young Ford said, ensconced firmly in his twin’s arms, yet still looking and sounding miserable. "It was my _one shot_ , and I blew it. Pa’ll never--" Miz twitched, wanting to comfort him too. _Distressed child! Must hug! Must destroy source of distress--_ But she was forced to hold herself back.

"-- _Forget_ Pa," Stan said heavily. "And forget one shot. _This_ guy," Stan said, tossing a thumb Ford’s way, "Got into a fancy school that, hell, maybe it wasn’t so fancy as _that_ one," he told them, "But--"

"--I can’t pay for it," the young Ford said. "I can’t-- even if Pa hadn’t kicked me out, we don’t have the money--"

"He got a full ride," Stan told him. "It ain’t the end of the world, believe me. He went to college, got a bunch of fancy degrees; the whole nine. _They_ paid _him_ for it. You can do it, too." ...And _that_ finally got his attention. It also seemed to make Miz settle down from the uncomfortable wiggling she'd been doing on her bench.

"...It ...it was okay?" the young Ford said, looking up at him like… hell. Last time Ford had looked at him like that had been...

Stan sighed. He nodded at the younger Ford. Because yeah, it would be all right.

"But…" the young Ford said, looking unsure as he glanced over at Ford. " _He_ didn’t like…"

"We didn’t have a bunch of old fogeys showin’ up on our doorstep, grabbin’ up two demons and two kids that day," Stan told him. "Things went down a little differently with us," Stan said, without elaboration.

The kids looked between him and Ford a bit doubtfully. And then Ford finally spoke up.

"...What happened with you is not what happened with me," Ford said slowly. "I… had some misconceptions about your current situation." He looked uncomfortable as he said, "If you continue attending school, and keep your grades up, then there is an excellent chance that you could--"

"--But I’m going to need to get a _job_ ," young Ford said. "I can't go to school; I need _money_ to--" And then the kid turned a little grey as the thought of what he’d just voiced finally hit him.

Miz scoffed. "You have your brother with you. That's already…" she slapped a hand over her mouth. "Right, no talk, just observe…" she mumbled.

"I can sneak food from the house," the young Stanley said. "You can sleep on the boat; I’ve done it before, nights. Pa and ma ain’t gonna be able to tell if I... do your laundry?" he said, wrinkling his nose, then he seemed to shrug it off. "Guess I’ll have to learn how to use the stupid washing machine, ugh," he said, to the younger Ford’s slight giggle.

"No, Stan," the younger Ford said quietly, almost pensively, leaning into him. "If Pa catches you…"

"Don’t care," the younger Stan said, hugging his brother a little tighter. "So he kicks me out too; hell with him."

"Don’t," the young Ford said urgently, pushing away from him slightly and adjusting his glasses. "Stan, that’s _not_ \--"

"--You’re both goin’ to school, neither of you are gettin’ jobs, and you’re both sleepin’ here," Stan said authoritatively. "Nobody’s splittin’ you two up." Miz made enthusiastic arm waves and a triumphant fist bump with the air behind Stan’s back (which Stan didn’t see, but which did get her a long suspicious glare from Ford).

"But--"

"--But me no buts," Stan said authoritatively, poking the young Ford in the head. " _I’ll_ have a talk with the old man about it. But me and this jerk," he pointed at Ford again, who looked thoroughly unimpressed at his new designation (yeah, deal with it), "Don’t got anything we’ve gotta do; we’re _retired_ ," he told the two of them. "And this whole getting kicked out thing is bullshit," he told them next. "I’m gonna get this boat fixed up -- yeah, you can help," he said to the younger-him, "But most of the rest of this junk is gonna take at least two people; why it isn’t done yet. Yeah?" he said, giving the younger-him a long look, which got him a grimace. "By the time I’m done with it, this thing’s gonna be livable--" Stan told them both, "--and you two’ll have enough money to tide you over until whenever."

The twins were both staring at him in disbelief, then exchanged a look. "You can’t fix up the Stan o’ War _and_ make money--" the young Ford began.

"Hell I can’t," Stan said gruffly. "Had two jobs for thirty years, fixing a big pile a’junk without a damn manual at night, _and_ runnin’ a pretty damn good money-makin’ business by day," he told them. " _I_ don’t have ta go to school. I got all day to make money, _and_ I’ve got a second set of hands to help me with repairing all this later." He glanced over at Ford again, who looked vaguely uncomfortable for some reason, but then nodded. "Don’t go tellin’ _me_ what I can’t do," he told the younger twins, grinning at the two of them almost evilly.

"...Because you’re an old man?" the younger Stan said skeptically.

"Because I’m an old _con man_ ," Stan corrected him, giving him a Mr. Mystery grin. "And I’ve sailed around the world and back. _Twice_."

...Yeah, Stan thought that might shut the two of them up. Heh.

Eyes wide, the twins exchanged a glance, and the next question Stan was asked was…

"Is that how you found the two demons?!" young Ford asked him excitedly.

...Stan ran a hand over his face.

"Look…" Stan said, starting to try and explain.

And as Stan continued to talk with the younger set, Ford (who was closer to Miz, as well as glancing at her suspiciously) was the only one who heard Miz’s quiet squeals of "--best fix-it fic ever!" And "Will they be able to sail after school? Nah, Chibi-Ford had college..."

Young Stan still picked up on the word, "...Sailing?" from Miz, and Stan looked over, giving her a frown, before turning back to the younger twins.

" _Maybe_ this summer," Stan said. "Need to get her seaworthy first. -- _Not_ before then," he added, as young Stan lit up. "School, you. Remember?"

"Stan…" Ford said quietly. "You can’t just…"

"Don’t you go startin’ with me now on this too, Ford," Stan said warningly, tossing a look over at the side at him.

"But… you really _can’t_ do this," the young Ford said. "I can’t go to the same school in the same district if I don’t have a permanent address, that’s…"

"I’ll talk with the old man tomorrow morning," Stan said. "He don’t have to take you back, but I’ll get a damn P.O. Box and sucker the school if I have to. Or get the boat listed as a house, first-thing. Not a problem. --I can damn well handle this."

Miz quietly squeaked, "I can forge documents!"

"So can I," said Stan, sending her an amused look. "Save it for your brother, yeah?" He let out a snort. Miz nodded, bouncing in place, in a much better mood than before.

"...Have you even taken care of," the younger Ford glanced at him, then glanced away. "Those kids you were looking after… do they..."

"We’re from the future, kinda," Stan said. "‘Nother place entirely, though. They’re fine there, and we can get back a couple _seconds_ after the kids did. They'll be fine while we're gone; we won't even be gone on 'em, really," Stan explained. "It’s fine. And I took care of ‘em last summer, too," Stan said. "They’re younger than you." The younger Ford started to protest again, this time about payin’ him back, and Stan knew he was gonna _keep_ protesting until he made it clear that--

"It ain’t no big deal," Stan told them both. He looked the younger Ford in the eye. "Food, clothing, shelter, and schooling," he said simply. (He heard Ford's sharp intake of air. Yes, Ford. The same things he offered Bill.) "That’s it. That’s what I’m givin’ you. --That ain’t such a big thing, right? You’re kids; you don’t owe me anythin’ for that." (Because that's what you give kids. ~~The things that Stan hadn't gotten from anyone else after being kicked out of the house.~~ ) "So relax."

"But…" The younger Ford looked lost.

"But me no buts," Stan repeated, coming across maybe a little more like ma this time, because he _finally_ got some recognition from the two of ‘em for it. "Yeah?" He got a tentative pair of nods. "Yeah." Then Stan reached forward and, with a grin, messed up both of their hairdos. "C’mon, let’s get you two set up for bed, yeah? Feel warm enough down here, now?" They looked around, then looked surprised, and Stan gave them a bit of a smirk as he made glad-hands at him and said, "Magic."

He glanced over at Ford, who was being all stone-faced and not-so-helpful. ...Yeah, Ford. Dealing with the kid's living situation came first. Boat and food and school and everything else.

Finding out who broke the project could come later. Stan didn't think it was all that important; not anymore, and not with everything else that was goin’ on. He knew his brother thought differently. He could see the gears turning. Ford wanted to figure that one out, badly. Nothing was adding up for him here, either. ...Well, Stan would let him take a crack at it with the younger Ford later. Maybe tomorrow. But an interrogation tonight...

He sent Ford a bit of a long glare, hoping his brother got the message.

While this was all going on, Miz had started Flickering. Because she had Seen what happened HERE and then remembered that, _THAT_ Stanford was actually… so she should probably go and check on that too. Miz frowned, eyes Flickering. Things looked similar, really similar… but something was wrong. Something was off. And she wasn't talking about the mild personality difference between the twins in that world and this...

Miz Looked closer at the saboteur… it was the same person in both but… Miz paused. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, staring. Did… she just See...

Miz sat up straighter, unhappy expression on her face. She trembled with suppressed rage. Okay, she shouldn't have been surprised. There hadn't been been any interference in this or Stan's world, but that Stanford's world? Miz buried her face in her hands and groaned. Dammit. Great. Now she couldn't be all mean to Ford. Even if Stan was innocent, and Ford had blamed him for a crime he technically (could have, there was a 50/50 chance that Stan could have actually broken the machine himself) didn't commit, even if there had been someone who broke the project in many of those other worlds… there had also been someone who had in those many cases _inspired_ them to do so.

Miz sighed. "Hey brother?" she asked innocently, "Can I talk to you outside?" Bill rolled his head around, tired.

"...Now?" Bill asked, blinking up at her.

Miz smiled, looking perfectly calm. "It'll just be for a minute."

Bill tilted his head at her, then turned his head and over his shoulder asked, "...Stanley?"

"I'll call ya if I need your help with something, kid," Stan told him evenly. "Pretty sure we can set up the hold here without ya. Just dump everything out before you go." Bill let out a humming sound of discontent, but got up and took the two seconds (hell) to dump all the beanbag chairs and blankets and pillows and junk out of his hat ( _literally_ ), before Bill made his way over to the ladder and started climbing his way up to the deck.

Stan watched all this (while he tried to ignore the exclamations from the twins at the ‘magic demon hat’) and he (unlike the kid) noticed that Miz was incredibly angry right then, even if she had managed to fake a ‘not angry’ tone. Normally, seeing her attempt a lie would be a problem, except that she'd been mad at _the kid_ this time. Stan had no idea what was going on, but he had a feeling that if it was _that_ bad, the dragon-lady would’ve yelled at the kid right then and there, and not given a damn about whoever overheard her doing it, or what about. Dragon-lady just didn’t have enough self-control to do otherwise; he’d noticed that over the last few days, too.

...And if Bill hadn’t been playing ‘not a game’ games with him here, Stan might’ve almost felt bad for the kid, or maybe even warned him, because Stan was pretty sure that the kid had no idea what was coming.

But hey, if the kid wanted _him_ to know what withholding information felt like...

\----

Miz waited until the hatch closed and tossed on a sound bubble just in case. She breathed deeply and turned to Bill with a frown. "What the FUCK?! You gave her the idea to break the stupid project?!" she hissed.

Bill blinked at her.

"Which ‘her’ and which ‘project’?" Bill asked, confused as to why his sister was so mad, and at who. (Wasn’t like he hadn’t broken a lot of ‘projects’ over the years, HA!)

Miz growled. "Carla, with Stanford's project in THAT Ford's dimension." She was so angry right now. She knew Bill was an asshole, hell, SHE was also an asshole, but THIS?!

Bill tilted his head at her, tired and confused. "...Which Stanford?" he asked next. He’d messed with plenty of Stanfords in plenty of dimensions, and plenty of those messings had involved a Carla, and even sometimes a project! (He’d also observed plenty WITHOUT interfering as well, of course.)

"Any Ford that would end up blaming an INNOCENT Stanley." Miz hated it when siblings fought. For Bill to have (in a roundabout way) nudged those two brothers apart was just… awful.

"That doesn’t narrow it down very much," Bill said, quite honestly. "Also: define ‘innocent’?" he asked. (He felt a little tense at Miz’s anger, but she hadn’t been mad at him before, so…)

At Bill’s words, Miz just paced around on the deck and screamed: "Well we can address THOSE later, right now I mean that Stanford downstairs who isn't the same Stanford who is that Stanley's twin!"

Bill lit up. "OH! --Yes," Bill said matter-of-factly. "I did do that." He tilted his head at her. "Why are you angry?"

Miz glared. "Because he ended up blaming and hating Stan for it! And that's--" she waved her hands around. "--that's really awful!"

"Well, don’t yell at that Stanford for it," Bill told her, he thought quite reasonably. He was just happy that she’d managed to hold it in until she was able to rant to him on deck about it (thinking she was mad at that Stanford for doing the blaming and hating). "We aren’t back yet, for me to fix things with Stanley’s twin yet. Stanley will figure out that I messed with his ‘family’ before I un-mess things, if you yell at that Stanford, and that would mean he'd know that the agreement I have with him is broken-not-fixed-yet currently."

Miz huffed because Bill didn't GET IT. "But it was YOUR fault!" She buried her face in her hands and screamed. "The murder and chaos is one thing-- if they're dead then they couldn't care less, but… but they were both super sad and angry and upset for YEARS!"

Well, yes. That was one of the reasons why he tended to go for murder instead of torture; ‘being dead’ meant that 'they’ couldn't care less -- including Bill! (The other was that whoever-it-was who was being ‘tortured’ couldn't escape and try and kill him again immediately if they were already dead.) Bill only made special exceptions for that sort of thing, generally. And chaos was fun!

But at the rest, Bill let out a bit of a surprised chirrup.

"‘Fault’?" He looked at her oddly, then smiled. "I gave that Stanford's Carla an idea from the Carla from Stanley’s dimension, and _she_ ran with it; _I_ didn’t break it," he told her. (Was she mad at those two Carlas then?) "...But yes, fault. I would have MADE SURE that that science fair project broke in both their dimensions, yes," Bill told her, with a nod. "So you could call that ‘my fault’ if you want!" he said brightly, fully pleased with himself. "And yes, they felt those things for years, and other things too," Bill said. "What’s your point?"

Miz hissed, spitting flames. "That's SUPER mean!" She stomped again.

Bill blinked at her. "What’s mean?" (He'd thought it rather clever of him, getting that Stanford to meet Glasses that early and the both of them getting along so well. ...At least, Bill _had_ thought that, right up until he'd realized what a problem that Glasses could be…)

"Making them hate each other over that stupid science project!" She couldn't help but think about what would have happened if a misunderstanding had made her siblings hate her for 40 years. That would… have been the WORST.

Bill blinked at her. "Yes?" Bill agreed. "That wasn’t what either Carla was trying to do, though," he said slowly. She’d just been trying to get back at them individually, for the things that she had done. Making them _fight_ each other? Hadn’t even been on the menu. (Bill had a feeling that she hadn’t even realized it was a _possibility_.)

Bill frowned, and shifted in place restively where he stood. "Why are you so mad?" Bill asked her again, still not realizing that she was mad at _him_ (...though he _was_ starting to feel a bit uneasy, and maybe a little concerned, at her ongoing anger).

Miz groaned. "You knew that if the project broke, and Ford blamed Stan, that they would hate each other, right?" She tried to rein in her temper.

Bill tilted his head at her. "If they were brothers, they would talk," he told her reasonably. "If that Stanford knew what being an older brother ACTUALLY meant, then he would NOT have kicked his twin to the curb. And they would have talked. Stan wanted to talk; Stanley wanted to talk," he told her. "‘Ford and that Stanford did not want to talk. They wanted to hate and blame, instead."

Miz sighed. She understood where Bill was coming from. That Ford was just an awful brother who never bothered to realize that he WASN'T the goddamn center of the universe with his stupid ‘oh woe is me, everything sucks and it’s all someone else’s fault’ thing going on, but… "But you kick-started that. You made sure it would happen," and she slumped tiredly against the side of a railing, her anger burning out. "You know what? I don't care anymore. You're ALL a bunch of idiots," she muttered. Both sets of Stans and Fords and all the others that existed who never put aside their damn prides and broken egos to actually talk to each other like human beings--

Bill frowned slightly. "Of course I made it happen. I’m not an idiot. I needed that Stanford _here_ \-- ...well, _there_ with Stanley and the rest of my Zodiac, so that I could get out," he told her, walking over to sit next to her on the railing himself. "Why would you not care about that?" It left Bill feeling a little odd.

"I know you needed him there. I know you had your reasons for breaking the project. I know. I'm just… I'm mad that it had to happen." Miz rubbed her eyes. "But I don't want to stay angry at you. So I decided I wouldn't care anymore. I don't like being mad at you."

Bill blinked at her, then shivered in place. His little sister had been mad… _AT HIM?_ "I don’t like you being mad at me," Bill said, and she'd said she wasn't wanting to stay mad at him... "But… what are you not caring about anymore?" He was very confused and worried at this point. Because, if it was something important enough for Miz to be mad at him, then… "I didn’t BREAK you, did I?" He felt a little uncomfortable at the thought. Bill didn’t want her to stop caring about him. That would make her not his sister anymore. Bill shifted uneasily from side to side.

"I'm not caring about you putting the idea to break the project into Carla's head. It happened, it's done. We're past that." Miz sighed.

"...I put lots of ideas in people’s heads about breaking lots of things," Bill said slowly, the idea slowly occurring to him that… what if there were _OTHER_ things she would be mad at him about if she knew about them ~~_like Liam would be?_~~? "I like breaking Rules," Bill told her, and Miz nodded.

"I know. And it kinda annoys me but…" She nuzzled into his side. "I'm not going to stop liking you just because of that," she assured him.

Well, not stopping liking him was good, in Bill's opinion! But Bill still didn't understand why she'd gotten mad at him in the first place. "It is that one idea into that one head that you didn’t like? Or more of them?" Bill said, trying to narrow this down. He was very tired, but he still wanted to know! Right then! Making his little sister mad without understanding why (or explaining why) didn’t seem like a very good big brotherly sort of thing to do, to him...

"Oh there are plenty of things. Mainly anything that ends up making people hate people that they shouldn't hate. But these are case by case things." Miz sighed, feeling tired as her anger subsided.

"But I didn’t make that Stanford hate that Stanley," Bill said. "That Stanford decided that, all on his own." Bill frowned. "I don’t understand," Bill said, confused. "I thought you liked free will?"

"But he DIDN’T decide that all on his own," Miz said tiredly. "Didn’t you know they would hate each other?" she sounded a little confused.

Bill blinked at her. "I saw that Stanford hate his twin as it happened, because he thought of himself as just his _family_ , not _actually_ a **brother** ," he told Miz. "That Stanford didn’t hate his twin for too long after his twin was kicked out, though?" Bill offered. "And… I don’t think that Stanley ever hated his twin; he just got mad… and hurt?" Bill wasn’t entirely certain on that one; he’d been in Stanley’s mind twice, but he hadn’t gotten a good look around at _EVERYTHING_ he might’ve wanted to look at the first time, and the second...?

Miz sighed. "If you didn't know, then I can't blame you for it. But that Stanford and Stan would definitely do so," she groaned. Ford would be really mad. Blame Bill even though technically, it HAD been Ford who had ‘decided’ to hate Stan.

Bill, still frowning, looked away from Miz. He was thinking hard. And then his eyes rapidly flicked from side-to-side just a hair, and he said, suddenly, "You thought I wanted them to hate each other." He slowly turned his head towards her. His eyes jittered from side to side again. "...But you think it’s okay, because you think it had to happen?" _That_ wasn’t… funny. It was… maybe _barely_ hilarious. Or very. Very hilarious. (Bill rubbed his right hand against his right temple. _So_ tired.)

Miz sighed. "I thought you knew they would hate each other and had been counting on that. But now I know you didn't know. And now I feel bad for suspecting that you would. I'm sorry." She slumped against his side. "And you NEEDED your Sixer to go where you needed him to go. So I can understand why you did your thing."

"I needed both dimensions as close to each other as possible in the events that occurred," Bill explained, relaxing slightly in place, because being understood was good. "It would have been too complicated to handle things otherwise. Too much divergence." And after that Stanford had told him he was going to stop him… having that Stanford end up in the dimension with the rest of his Zodiac had been a must, yes, but having that Stanford _not realize_ that he was in a different dimension than his home had been essential, too. Because if that Stanford had realized that Bill had needed him there in order to get out… he wouldn't have _torn down_ the portal; that Stanford would have tried to _repair_ it and gone _right back through it_ instead! And Bill DIDN'T KNOW what would have happened if that Stanford had tried to…

Bill shook his head, and let out a tired huff of breath. "--I was trying to understand what needed to happen as things happened, in order for me to get out," Bill told her. "Those two dimensions were SO different from the rest." It had been confusing. Not least of which because the rest of the five-fingered Stanfords just… hadn’t been the same as those two six-fingered Stanfords AT ALL! "There was something about those two dimensions that was DIFFERENT, that needed to stay the SAME for me to be able to GET OUT. More of my Zodiac were in the one, so I tried to make that Stanford’s dimension match it as close as I could! I tried some things out there first," Bill said. "Because it wasn’t as close, and it wasn't as important; it only had one of my Zodiac members in it. But… I couldn’t keep everything synchronized PERFECTLY." They just… hadn’t been _quite_ the same to begin with. So that hadn't been possible.

Miz nodded. "Having multiple dimensions is confusing." She still got them all mixed up.

"Try trying to _control_ multiple dimensions without being able to impact any of them DIRECTLY," Bill said with no small annoyance, kicking a foot at the deck of the boat. "Or _don’t_ , and avoid having to ENTIRELY. If you can," he told her warningly.

Miz nodded, the initial anger had faded. Bill hadn't known. He hadn’t realized Stanford would end up holding a grudge on Stan over this for years. And he'd been trapped and desperate. She sighed. "Okay… I think I'm okay now." She pressed against Bill's side. "Why does life have to be so complicated?"

"Because the stupid lizard is stupid and made it that way," Bill complained promptly. "--Why do you think I want to break all the Rules and FIX things?" He still felt a bit off somehow. "...Why did you think I would want them to hate each other?" he asked of her next. "I needed them alive and apart and that Stanford in the right dimension after, not dead-together..." Humans who hated each other either killed each other, or made each other wish they were dead _until_ they killed each other. So why had his little sister thought he’d wanted that? (She DID understand what hate _was_ , didn't she?) Maneuvering his Zodiac into killing each other… it made no sense. Any of his Zodiac dying before he got out would have left him trapped FOREVER. --It really made no sense to him.

Miz sighed. "One of the [other Bills](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529949/chapters/21548483) I saw was like that. The one who had loved his own Ford so much he wanted to have him all for himself. He had manipulated that Ford into pushing all others away… so that Ford would have no one to rely on emotionally but him... I know you're not him, but I get confused sometimes. And that's why I'm sorry."

Bill frowned, then made a face. Who could she have POSSIBLY gotten him _confused_ with?! -- _HE_ didn't 'love’ that Stanford! That was a sick raw biological urge that was just-- just-- BLEH!

Bill shook his head, still-grimacing. "I need my Zodiac to work together," Bill said. "With me. --That won’t happen if they hate each other, or are dead," he informed Miz calmly. Because _clearly_ she did not understand how his Zodiac worked… and he supposed those other-Bills who were not him must have very differently-functioning Zodiac, if what he’d read from the idiot-trio on that other transdimensional blog had been any indication… burning down somebody’s _home_... Bill shuddered slightly at the memory of what he’d read. (...Maybe they had been lying in their writing? It hadn’t _felt_ that way...)

Miz nodded. "Yeah, I get that now." She closed her eyes. "Well, what happens now? Do you still need your Zodiac together and stuff?"

Bill pulled a face. "Stanley is enough," he said. "I could… _maybe_ do it without the rest of them," Bill said, "But it would take _so much longer_ and…" Bill let out a long slow breath in a sigh. "It’s better if they’re all alive and on my side," Bill told her, then paused. "...Or all alive and on Stanley’s side, which is also… a side I am on. ...The same side?" Bill said, almost hesitantly.

"Yeah. You're on Stanley's side." Miz nodded. "I'm glad. You have Stanley. You're not alone." 

"Yes, I--" Bill blinked. "...Alone?" Miz nodded.

"You have Stanley. And you have me." She relaxed against his side. "I didn't have anyone but Ax for a very long time. But I have you now."

"Yes, you have me," Bill said, raising a hand to lay it atop her head. "And I have you now! And…" Bill trailed off. Then Bill pulled in a breath and looked resolute. "And I will have Stanley PROPERLY once I fix things and un-mess-with his twin. ...And then everything will be just fine," Bill ended quietly.

Miz was quiet as she thought. "Stanley might not understand, at first. He might get mad and need time to think about it." Because he wouldn't be happy to learn that his twin had been dead all this time. That his own Ford had been vaporized by the portal as he fell into it. "He might even blame himself…" because Stan already blamed himself for pushing his twin into the portal. Finding out that he hadn't just been sent away into the multiverse, but had been killed? Poor Stanley would probably feel awful.

"You underestimate Stanley," Bill told her. "He will recognize his twin. --And he will be happy to have him back!" Bill said. "And with the way I will need to do the rollback," Bill told her, "He won’t even remember dying! It will be fine."

Miz nodded but she still mentioned "And what if Stan blames himself for pushing his twin into the portal and killing him?"

Bill blinked at her.

"Stanley didn’t kill him," Bill said, "The portal did. And I had to choose," he told her. "Sixer, or ‘Ford. They both hit their event horizons of their portals at the same frozen moment of time," at least from HIS side of the connection. "I could only save one." Neither portal had been stable enough for either of them to pass through safely -- not without Bill's intervention -- and Bill had only one Eye to See what he needed to See to handle the forces properly and react in time. Bill had only been able to focus on and stabilize and hold one portal at a time from his destabilized end; he couldn't have managed both at the SAME time -- and if he'd tried to do that, he’d have ended up with _neither_. And if he’d saved ‘Ford instead of Sixer, Bill NEVER would have gotten out. _Ever._

To Bill, it had been a very simple and straightforward choice.

(But now that he was out and on the other side of it…)

Miz let out a bitter smile. "The portal killed him. But Stan pushed him in. Stan would blame himself. Because he still blames himself for pushing his brother in, even after all this."

"Ah, but his twin will be alive!" Bill pointed out brightly. "And Stanley will not know that he was ever dead until AFTER he is alive again! So he won’t be able to be sad and hurt, like Shooting Star talked about with Pine Tree," Bill said, feeling very proud of himself for figuring that connection out! "Also, Stanley is smarter than that. He won’t feel hurt at his brother being dead, when his brother is alive! And pushing his brother in was an accident; Stanley didn’t mean to do that," Bill pointed out. "Stanley _understands_ accidents. --No penalty needed! I will be fixing it for him COMPLETELY, so it will be fixed, so no penalty for him!"

Miz knew Bill wouldn't understand; emotions were irrational. Feeling bad would happen whether or not one could understand what the physical, objective truth was. Truth was relative anyway. But maybe Bill was right, maybe Stanley would be okay. She was finding that she just couldn't understand the motives behind these people. Humans were so much more complicated than the aliens she’d grown used to over the years. So she nodded. "Alright. As long as it's fixed. And Stanley can be with his twin again." She considered it. "Maybe I'm just projecting again," because that might have been it again. Because she hadn't MEANT to eat Will, but she still blamed herself for it. That and more.

"Projecting what?" Bill asked her, then blinked. "Projecting a thing you think and feel… onto _Stanley?_ To do with… ‘Ford?" It had had to do with that Stanford last time. "What thing are you projecting?

"That fact that I still blame myself for Will's death, even though it was an accident. They hadn't MEANT to shoot him, but he still died. And I keep on thinking about how I had built the weapon that killed him. And blame myself for it."

Bill blinked. (And swayed a little in place.) And blinked.

"...But ‘Ford built the portal that killed him?" Bill said slowly. That didn’t seem like the same thing. And then Bill frowned. "I told-- _wrote_ to you," Bill told her. "That WASN’T your FAULT." Bill looked frustrated. "That-- that makes no sense," he complained. "That would be like-- like--" He searched his own memories for a comparison. "--Like me blaming MYSELF for my dimension burning down!" he told her, splaying a hand across his chest. "That wasn’t my fault!" he protested.

Miz nodded. "My logical part knows that, but my emotional part is still sad…" she trailed off. So Bill didn't blame himself? Well, maybe it was better for him not to, guilt was a painful heavy feeling that she wouldn't want anyone else to suffer with, not like she did. She'd been holding onto this guilt for eons.

"That doesn’t--" Bill made a frustrated noise. "Why be SAD when you can be ANGRY INSTEAD?" he asked her, eyes blinking open, then closed again. "Just-- get mad at THEM!" he told her, sitting up straight abruptly, eyes snapping open, then slowly lowering, then opening again. "THEY killed him! Not YOU!"

Miz shrugged. She felt exhausted, emotionally. "I can't stay angry for that long. It makes me tired and then I get sad again anyway." She had a quick temper, fast to cone and quick to go. It'd always been like that. "Besides, they're all dead. I have no one left to blame but myself."

"Being DEAD doesn’t mean you can’t blame them," Bill told her, swaying in place. His hands clenched then loosened around the railing. Miz sighed. "I can blame them. And then I get mad. But I can't stay mad. It's not something I'm good at doing." She could hold a grudge, but that wasn't the same as anger.

"But staying mad is simple," Bill told her. "You just get angry, and get angrier, and get so so angry, and then you scream forever," he told her, his eyelids dipping low. "You just scream and scream and scream and… and you… you scream… and..." Bill trailed off, his chin lowering slightly.

"... and then you get tired. And then you'd get sad." Miz whispered. "That's what happened with me. I got sick of being angry and sad and tired. I just… wanted to be happy. It's not wrong to want to be happy, right?"

Bill’s body slumped in place, eyes closed.

And then he slowly fell backwards off of the railing.

Miz's eyes widened. "Bill?!" She looked over, already casting ‘Feather Fall’ before she lost sight of him. And yes, it was nerdy to set up Curses that had the effects of spells from D&D but it was easy!

The spell caught and held, and slowed Bill enough that the tumble into and down the small sand dune that he hit below wouldn’t have left him the worse for wear, even without his protective bodysuit on. Miz sighed in relief before floating up and over and down to kneel by his side. "Brother?"

He had come to a stop face-down in the sand of the beach below. He wasn’t moving. Miz slowly turned him onto his back. "Brother?" she asked again, scanning his body for what was wrong.

Bill twitched slightly when she laid hands on him, but otherwise didn’t respond. His breathing was a bit off, but his body was overall loose-limbed, and his eyes were closed, and...

Miz sighed. He was asleep. Well, she was still worried but heck, he did say he was tired down in the hold. Miz smiled wryly. Well, might as well get him back inside, she was curious what Stan was saying to the kids. Miz levitated him into the air, Bill didn’t like being touched or feeling gravity so maybe he would be more comfortable this way?

Bill let out a soft unconscious sigh, and his body relaxed completely at the removal of local-relative gravity surrounding him. (Just like he’d floated in his ‘Nightmare Realm’ for hundreds of billions of years.)

Miz smiled. She wanted to give him a small kiss on the cheek, the way she tucked in her children to bed, but he might not like that. Miz floated the two of them back up and opened the hatch to the hold telekinetically. She shifted the sound dampening barrier she’d tossed up earlier to wrap around just him, so his sleep wouldn't be interrupted, and she climbed back down. She put it around just his ears, so his suit would still be able to record stuff for later. Also set it to stop as soon as Bill woke up.

\------

Stan looked up as Miz came back down into the hold, and nearly did a double-take.

"...Did you knock the kid out?" Stan asked slowly, carefully, and quietly. (Quietly, because he’d just gotten the kids settled down for the night; they’d been out like a light almost, curled up together.) He didn’t like to think of what it might mean if they’d gotten into a fight up there and the kid had lost… (Ford was staring, assessing, and had a hand on one of his sci-fi guns.)

Miz sighed. "We talked and then he fell asleep." She paused. "Not sure what would happen if we fought." She thought about it. "I don't want to fight him. I don't like fighting."

"Yeah, uh," Stan didn’t know about that, but sure. He didn’t think the dragon-lady was lying to him, at least. "I don’t want to know what would happen if you did that, either." And he didn’t really want to find out. "And I'm pretty sure the kid doesn't want to fight you, too," Stan told her, then looked around. "Maybe set the kid down over there?" Stan pointed out a far corner of the hold that was a little more flat than the rest. (They’d laid a couple blankets down over there for the demons. His and Ford’s own were in the middle of the hold, near the stairs, between the ‘demon’ area and the pair of seventeen-year-old twins. Just in case.)

Miz nodded and floated Bill over to hover above the ground. He seemed so peaceful that she didn't want to put him down. "So what's been happening down here? Have you all hugged out your feelings?"

Stan and Ford exchanged a glance at the ‘hugged it out’. It felt really weird, hearing it from somebody other than Mabel. "Yeah, uh… not so much on the hugging everything out between us," Stan told her, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. They’d both been a little preoccupied with the twins.

"--Set Bill down," said Ford, to her, looking agitated. Miz looked at him and slowly shook her head. "He's more comfortable like this."

Ford clenched his jaw, then tried to relax it a bit. It took effort. "Human bodies are not meant to sleep or live in microgravity environments," he informed her.

"Astronauts do it. And the ones who return to Earth say they have trouble adjusting to gravity again. Bill spent billions of years in a zero-gravity environment. Floating is more comfortable for him." Miz pointed out matter of factly.

Ford looked more than a little frustrated with her. He clenched his jaw. Then he turned to his brother. "--Stanley," he said, "Have you _ever_ seen Bill floating in his sleep, even once?"

Stan frowned between them. "No, but… the kid’s more comfortable floating?" Stan asked Miz, feeling a little confused. Because sure, the kid had talked about hating gravity, but--

Miz nodded. "He relaxed the instant I levitated him." Stan was frowning. "Okay. --Not seeing the big deal here, Ford." Ford let out a huff of breath. "--That isn’t the point, Stanley!" he hissed out under his breath.

"Then what is the point?" Miz pouted. Because what she was thinking right now was that Ford just wanted Bill to sleep uncomfortably. And that seemed too petty even for him.

Ford sent a glare her way. " _The point_ ," Ford said, "Is that Bill has not been floating in his sleep," Ford informed him. "And you have walked in on him at least once upstairs in the attic, correct?" Ford asked of Stan, who nodded, then blinked as it occurred to him what his brother was getting at. "He could have cast a ‘floating’ spell on himself when he was upstairs easily -- _but he didn’t_ ," Ford told the human demon. "Bill has **consistently** _not done that_. --Set him down. **Now.** "

Miz slowly lowered Bill gently to the ground. "Oh, I just thought he hadn't thought of it. I often don't think of things that are obvious."

"There is no time that Bill would _not_ think of floating as a viable option, whether it actually is one or not," Ford muttered out at her. And Ford watched her the entire time that she lowered him, and he pulled in a breath slowly and let it out just as slowly after she’d finally done it. (He relaxed infinitesimally once she’d finished doing it and let go of Bill.)

Miz watched Bill to see if he was alright, she'd made sure none of his limbs were overlapping, like he usually slept upstairs in the attic and _had_ slept out on the roof, that she’d seen those last few nights.

Bill let out a huff and a soft grumble in his sleep, resituating himself slightly, then stopped moving again, except for the rise and fall of his chest. Miz wasn't sure if that looked comfortable but to each their own. She turned back to the men. "Ok. Now what?" she gestured to the younger twins. "Have you figured out what happened?"

Stan sighed. "Ford got kicked out. Which you already know." Miz nodded.

"Do you need Bill or me to rewind time so you can stop the project from breaking?" Miz asked, and Stan frowned at her.

"No," Stan told her. "We ain't rewindin’ or undoin’ anything. We're gonna work with what we have now and fix things." Trying to mess with time had gotten the niblings bounced and in trouble in the first place, and Stan hadn’t liked the sound of those ‘nonlinear time loop’ things _any_ of the times the kid had ever brought them up.

To Stan's surprise, Miz looked relieved. "I'm willing to help out in any way I can."

Stan narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't like the idea of undoing this?"

Miz blushed. "Rolling back time would be annoying. There are fixed points and stuff." She paused before adding, "Ask Pine Tree how many times he hit Wendy in the face with a ball until he won her a stuffed…" Miz trailed off, a weird look of realization on her face. "Quackers?"

Stan blinked at the dragon-lady when Miz seemed to go off and get lost in her own thoughts. ...Well, it didn't seem important. The other thing she mentioned might be. Fixed points? The hell did _that_ mean? And who had 'fixed’ them?

Stan shook his head. "Well, ‘case you weren’t listenin’ before, me and Ford are gonna be takin’ care of both of ‘em -- and your brother," Stan added for good measure. "And you, while you’re here. Unless you wanna go back to the other dimension to be with the kids?" Stan asked, and Ford sent him a glare.

Miz shook her head. "I’d rather stay here with brother, wherever he is," she explained. Then Miz seemed to realize what Stan had said about taking care of them and she smiled. "I guess you're adopting more kids?" she grinned, making a reference to Stan's cover story of adopting Bill.

Stan blinked. "Uh, no. But I'm gonna be their guardian," he shrugged. "Get ‘em on their feet before we go. Make sure they’ve got someplace to live and enough money to fall back on that they won’t have any problems later." Not like they’d have any family to rely on if they needed it, Stan thought dourly. And who the hell knew what was gonna happen with Shermie now...

Miz smile was positively blinding. When Stan stared at her in confusion, she simply said. "You're a good man." She tilted her head. "And you're fixing it." Miz relaxed. "Good." She seemed much calmer than she'd been when she first entered the boat. Then she yawned. "Well. Does that mean these two--" she pointed at the twins, sleeping mostly peacefully now, "--are gonna be staying here with us tonight?"

Stan looked over. "Yeah. And every night they need to until they want to sleep someplace else, if I’ve got anythin’ to say about it."

The younger twins had still been a little upset by all the ups and downs of the day, but they’d fallen asleep quickly enough once Stan had finally gotten them to lie down on the closest thing to an actual bed that they could set up there. The two of ‘em had both been exhausted.

...They were gonna be okay, though. They were together. That was what mattered the most. The Kings of New Jersey, lookin’ out for each other. Nothin’ could stop ‘em if they stuck together and...

...then Miz ruined the happy mood by asking, "How about just _one_ eye?" (Stan groaned. Damn dragon lady.)

"What," Ford said flatly, too tired to connect the reference to what she’d said earlier, though correctly pegging it as a threat, at least.

"One sec…" Stan said to Ford, then he turned and stared Miz down, thinking of how he wanted to handle this, before gesturing over to another (empty) corner of the hold. "Miz. Corner, now. And put up one of those perception thingies so nobody else hears us." The dragon blinked and followed him as he made his way over...

\----

Stan was _not_ happy with Miz just then, and it looked like Miz could tell. She sighed. "Fine." She said before Stan could even open his mouth. "Messing with their dad would technically be messing with your family, I get it." She didn’t sound any happier than Stan felt. "I’m just mad, at what he did and at this whole situation in general." She folded her arms with a huff. "I’m not all that happy with brother either."

Well, _that_ , Stan sort of knew. After all, she’d taken the kid up with her on deck for whatever discussion they might have had. Still, Stan glared at her. "And do you know _why_ you can’t take out his eyes, aside from the fact that it’d be messin’ with my family?" Stan quizzed her. He kinda hoped she _did_ know; otherwise, they’d have a problem on their hands.

Miz frowned. "Because it’s not nice to do something like that to anyone, even if you’re mad at them…"

" _Especially_ if you’re mad at someone," Stan stressed. "It ain’t right; you know that, don’t you?" (Even the mob didn’t pull shit like that for a reason.) And from the guilty look Miz got, it told Stan that she _did_. --Hell. That frustrated Stan even more. At least the kid didn’t actually know right from wrong half the time -- or at least, the kid’s sense of what was right and wrong was pretty messed up. Kid tried to do what he thought was ‘right’, even if the kid didn’t usually _call_ it that. But if Miz _knew_ it was wrong, and was still _wanting_ to do that...

"I’m just mad at him. And it’s not like I’ll actually act on it… not here, not while I’m a guest…" Miz mumbled, and that had Stan glaring at her -- wasn’t like he didn’t catch the two ‘exceptions’ there. He was about to call her on it when she said, "Even Gray waited until I was able to support myself before he disowned me…" ...Hell. He was too tired for this.

Stan frowned and ran a hand across his face. "Who’s Gray?" Stan asked, not really wanting to know, and he saw Miz scowl.

"My triangle father."

Oh. Oh, goddamnit. Stan sighed deeply. Not _this_ shit again. "...So, you’re just projectin’ again?" Miz nodded, looking like she’d swallowed something sour. Stan rubbed a hand across his face. "Right…" So her triangle dad had disowned her, too, on top of everything else. _Great._ (...Probably something to do with the ‘not being perfect’ thing that she’d mentioned before. And that meant that seeing Filbrick do it to his own son had hit a nerve with her.)

"Fine, that sucks. But Flibrick ain’t your Grey, and I’m supportin’ them, so support ain’t a problem. So you _ain’t_ gonna go taking junk out on everybody else that you want to actually take out on your _Grey_ , instead. _**Right?**_ " Stan said leadingly but harshly.

Miz looked only vaguely guilty as she nodded. "I’m angry right now, but I can’t _stay_ angry for long on my own. Never been good at that. I’ll probably be over this by tomorrow." She groaned and rubbed her face. Stan let out another sigh.

"Well, you’re stayin’ here tonight, and not pullin’ anything either," he said quellingly. "And you let me know how you’re feelin’ about this junk in the mornin’." Hell, it was probably a good thing that Miz apparently couldn’t stay angry for very long (however the hell ‘long’ was for her, which Stan was _also_ gonna have to ask after. In the mornin’). Because with the dragon-lady’s lack of self-control, if she’d been more like her _brother_ , who was apparently ‘always screaming’ and angry...

Stan stared at Miz, unimpressed. "Don’t talk about it right out in front of the kids, though. Get me, get my permission to go around castin’ stuff wherever we are, and put up a sound barrier like this one again, first," he grunted out. She nodded. Stan sighed as he talked her into dropping the sound barrier again and going off to sleep with her brother, while he walked his way over to lie down and sleep next to his. They were gonna have to talk about this more tomorrow, sure. But for now, it was late, and he needed some sleep to be able to make sure that the boys didn’t try and pull a fast one on him, to try and skip school the next day.

If they were gonna graduate, and that young Ford was gonna make it into a halfway-decent college, they couldn’t afford to miss anymore days.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Ahhhh we were editing and ended up adding another 20 pages! Also I passed out a few times because it was 4AM XD  
> Anyway, a lot of information was learned and perhaps you all can even put together what really happened??
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Believe it or not, the 'editing together Sunday in real-time in Google Docs for several hours starting in the afternoon and added 20 pages, oops' thing happened _a lot_...
> 
> *looks at chapter and word count again*
> 
> ...Yeah, you probably believe it.


	13. Chapter 82: Well there are some fates worse than death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> In which MizBill and chibi-Ford unknowingly share a moment of understanding about what it's like to exist in a world where society judges others by appearances and they are found lacking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 93 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/44845804). It was first posted on May 20, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\-------

The next morning, while they were cooking breakfast up on the deck together, Miz suddenly sat up straight with a frown. "Can we call them something different so I don't get confused when we mention you all by name?"

The four Stans looked at each other.

But before any of them could say anything, Bill raised a hand, index finger pointing straight out, and pointed it at young Ford, saying "‘Ford," and then moved his hand around to point at young Stan, "Lee."

(The young Stanley grimaced a little at this, not looking forward to being called 'Lee’ again, but didn't complain out loud at this.)

Then Bill pointed at "Stanley" (his Stanley) and "Sixer" (that Stanford that was his)...

\--but Ford looked angry at being called that and immediately snapped out, "-- _Don't_ call me that!!"

(The young Ford, for his part, blinked and looked between them.)

"I… I'm okay with being called Sixer," the young Ford offered.

"That Stanford is Sixer; you are 'Ford," said Bill. Because that Stanford _was_ his Six-Fingered Hand. Sixer. (...even if he didn’t ACT like a Sixer most days.)

Before Ford could explode at Bill again, Stan cut in with, "--Kid, we'll call you Sixer; Bill will probably call you Ford. Yeah?"

The younger teenaged Ford ("Sixer") looked between Bill (who was relaxed as anything and looked completely unconcerned) and Ford (who looked ready to have an aneurysm over it), and said, sounding slightly amused, "...Sure?"

Miz clapped her hands. "Yes. Thank you. This will make it much easier for me and everyone else to understand." She looked over at the pancakes (and remaining pancake batter mix) and realized there was no way she'd be satisfied with just that much. So she turned to Stan and asked, "Can I go catch some more fish?" They still had the other fish steaks that Stan had made from what she'd caught, placed under a Preservation effect, but as far as Miz was concerned, that was for them to eat, too. Miz needed more than that; she could polish the rest of that off herself in one single meal.

"Sure, same rules as before," Stan grunted out. Miz nodded and floated down the side of the boat, not bothering to go into her dragon form this time, She was just going to swim after them. Her clothes changed into a cute one piece swimsuit as she stepped into the water. Having a Perception Filter 'on' to cover her was pretty much a constant by this point.

As Miz went to get herself some food, Stan motioned for the kids to come with him back down into the hold, so they could get more stuff to get the fish Miz was going to bring back squared away. (It was gonna leave Ford and the kid on deck with each other for a couple of minutes, but if they couldn't manage that at this point, then Stan figured things were a lot worse between them than he thought. ...And it'd be better to figure that one out _now_ , too, when the niblings weren’t around to see anything go horribly wrong, or the aftermath of that.)

Stan sent Ford a look before descending down the ladder after the kids. Ford caught it, and all but rolled his eyes at him. (...Well, fine. Maybe the sleep had helped him, or just the niblings being outta the line of fire now.)

Stan let out an old man sigh as he stepped off of the ladder in the bottom of the hold. The two teenagers had been pretty quiet that morning overall, still in a stunned state from the upheaval of their lives yesterday. They seemed a little nervous now; it was probably really only starting to sink in for them exactly what it happened, and what their lives were going to be like from now on moving forward.

Sixer was going to live here on the boat while he finished school; Lee would be staying as well. Stan would be providing for them both -- a stance he refused to back off on, no matter how much Sixer protested (this morning as well) that he didn't want to bother or burden Stan.

"Kid, you're gonna need money and food and supplies to get through school. I’m an adult and I can make money," Stan grunted out.

And when Lee suggested just dropping out, so he could work to help save up enough money for him and Sixer to live off of until Sixer graduated, and pay for him to go to college...

"Yeah, no," Stan told his younger self, as he finished shooing the two of ‘em back up the ladder, took the stuff they'd helped him carry up from them, and then continued walking the two of them across the deck. "You _two_ are going to school," he leveled a hard look at Lee, who hunched his shoulders a bit and looked kind of annoyed -- yeah, _that_ was gonna be a problem, keeping him in school when he wanted to work to fix things instead. With money. So _he_ wouldn’t feel useless. Shit. Stan could relate, but-- "We’re gonna swing by the pawnshop first, though," Stan grimaced, "Backdoor. Get your junk.

"Could just sneak in the window again," Lee muttered, and that had Stan looking over at him, blinking, then thinking.

He turned away from Lee, and looked to Bill, who was waving his hands around all magic-y and junk -- helping Miz haul (read: float) a bunch of fish up onto the deck for her, and receiving a "Thanks big brother," and nuzzle for his efforts as he finished. Stan smiled.

"Kid, add this stuff to the hat too, yeah?" Stan added, as Bill scooped up the fish into his hat (read: floated them in, in a long continuous head-to-tail stream). Bill looked over to him, then down at his arms, and made a quick gesture, floating what Stan was carrying out of his arms and into his hat, too. Stan got a thoughtful look as Bill put his hat back onto his head.

"Kid, if you went up to their bedroom, you think you could grab everything they might want you to grab for them, up in your hat, if you go up there?" Stan asked the kid. The kid looked interested, but reminded Stan, "Need permission from both of them."

Stan nodded (good, the kid was still following that one), then looked over to Sixer and Lee, who looked confused, up until Stan explained the ’solution’ _and_ the ‘problem’ with: "Kid can grab anything you want for you, easy. But bedrooms are personal spaces. Ya need permission from everybody whose bedroom it is to go up into it, door or window or _anything_ , and the kid’s not stealing anything or breaking into places," Stan told them. (Those were the rules for bedrooms at the Shack, and Stan _noticed_ that the kid was not just paying attention to and following those, at home, with him and his family, but also applying them elsewhere -- like pretty much everything else that the kid had learned from him so far. --Which was _exactly_ what Stan wanted, and had been going for.) "You gotta tell him what’s okay, and for how long you’re okay with him bein’ up there."

Sixer blinked at him and adjusted his glasses, then turned to the human-looking demon. "You have my permission to enter my room… the once, today," he added carefully, looking at Stan, before looking back to Bill. "And… retrieve my bookbag, and books, and clothing for me," Sixer told him. "Nothing else." Stan and Lee both frowned at him, and his shoulders slumped. "I don’t want Pa sayin’ I stole anything from him," Sixer muttered angrily, looking away. "He won’t care about books and clothing. He doesn’t care about the books, and he can’t sell any of our clothes for anything, really."

Bill nodded and shrugged, then looked to Lee. "Need your permission to enter too, before I can!" Bill told Lee brightly, with a fixed smile. Miz was Flickering, checking to see where their parents were, wondering if there was a way she could arrange ‘accidents’ for Filbrick without Stan noticing? Nothing lethal, just tripping over stuff and if he happened to twist an ankle or bruise an arm… or break his nose... 

She frowned. No. Bad Miz. THIS Filbrick was an ass for tossing his son out, but he didn’t _really_ deserve her brand of karma. He wasn’t quite _bad_ enough for her to justify that to herself. She sighed. Fine. She’d leave him alone. Besides, Stan had already given her _another_ stern lecture this morning about it already, before the rest of them had woken up. Figures she and Stan would be the early risers? It was odd that Ford had slept in for so long, considering how little he trusted her and Bill, though...

Lee frowned. "Yeah, okay," Lee said. "I can carry most of it myself, though."

Stan shrugged and said, "Just tell the kid what you’re okay with him grabbin’ for now, in case Filbrick comes up the stairs after ya."

Lee winced, as did Sixer, and Lee said, finally, "Clothes and shoes and jackets and belts and junk. Bookbag, and anything inside it, and all my school books and papers and school junk, too," Lee added, rolling his eyes at the look Stan gave him, "Any of my duffel bags -- eh, all of ‘em, I guess -- and I already got my wallet," he said as he patted his front jeans pocket, then hesitated.

"Oh, yeah," Lee said, then shoved a hand in his back pocket and pulled out a familiar-looking wallet, which he handed over to Sixer. "Here." Sixer blinked, as he took his wallet from his twin brother. "Checkbook for the boat accounts," Lee added, talking to Bill again, as they all took turns climbing their way down the side of the boat and down onto the sand. "--But I’ll grab that myself," Lee added. "And maybe… all of my comic books?" Lee added after a moment’s thought, glancing over at Bill, wondering if that was even a thing? "I have a lot of them."

Bill nodded. "Not a problem!" the demon told him. "My hat is bigger than it looks," he said next, as he pulled it off his head and demonstrated by shoving his hand in to pull out… a pitchfork? full-sized?... and then shove it right back in.

As Lee and Sixer stared, both for very different reasons, Miz spoke up, saying, "I can distract your dad." Stan’s narrow-eyed glance let her know that she hadn’t been able to hide her feelings about Filbrick.

Like hell Stan was gonna let her do that. Stan had already _barely_ been able to talk her out of outright ‘destroying’ the man during their discussion last night and _again_ this morning. (The only upshot about _that_ had been that she’d had that verbal fight with him inside one of those no-sound bubbles, out of earshot of the younger twins. And that she DID end up backing down, both times ...for the moment. Stan was uneasy and very irritated about the fact that Miz apparently knew it was wrong to want to hurt Filbrick, and had still wanted to, though, just because she’d been angry and projecting.)

Stan thought back to their talk that morning.

_"You know that it’s wrong to hurt others, yeah?" Stan stared down at her. Miz looked a little uncomfortable, wiggling in her seat._

_"...yeah…"_

_Stan breathed in deeply to calm himself down. "So why do you still want to do it?" he asked. Because that was the main thing he needed to know, to know just how dangerous Miz was. If she chose to do something that she _knew_ was wrong… hell. That was a major problem, no two ways about it._

_Miz hunched up where she was sitting. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but seemed to have trouble figuring out how to say what she wanted to say. Finally, she sighed. "Would you get mad if I explained?" she asked finally._

_...As opposed to, what, her not explaining at all? Like hell. Stan’s stare didn’t waver. "I’m plenty mad right now," he said, leaving it at that -- because did the demon-kid_ really _think that **not** telling him was gonna make him any less mad?_

_Miz rubbed her face. Finally, she spoke. "Sometimes, I think that some people deserve to be hurt, at least a little bit. Like, a punishment."_

_Before Stan could let Miz know_ just _how he felt about that, Miz continued with, "I punished the poachers who took Xanthar’s family from him. I punished the king who kidnapped and raped his citizens. I punished the god who demanded infant sacrifices. I punished that man who DRUGGED me with an aphrodisiac… and many, many more." She had her hands balled in her lap. "I know that, maybe I could have tried to get them arrested so ‘the law’ could punish them. But, they wouldn’t have been. They would have gotten away scot-free for their crimes. And I couldn’t stand that. I couldn’t stand the thought that they were free to continue hurting people and no one was going to stop them." She trembled a little before relaxing. "So I did it myself. And, I know it’s wrong to hurt people, but they were bad people. And aren’t bad guys supposed to be punished?"_

_Stan closed his eyes and breathed. Okay. Okay. So this was a thing. After he opened his eyes again he still kept on glaring at her, though. "And Filbrick?" Stan pushed._

_Miz wilted. "Okay, yeah, that was… a bit extreme on my part. I was just angry. He doesn’t actually deserve to lose his eyes, even if he’s blind to how important his children are. I’m not gonna mess with him." Miz rubbed her face. "I’m just, really unhappy at how distressed little Ford and Stan are. I can’t Feel it, but I can See it just fine. And I don’t like it."_

_Stan stared at her. "...and you want to hurt the man who made them unhappy?"_

_Miz nodded, relaxing a little in relief now that she’d finally gotten that off her chest. "I was angry. But I held myself back from actually doing it." Miz sighed. "Is that… good?"_

_Stan eyed her. He had a hell of a lot of things he wanted to say to her about this whole thing, but for now... "No. That’s what you_ should _do. Holding yourself back from hurting other people who don’t have a damn thing to do with you, who -- hell -- don’t even know who you are? That’s the minimum. ‘Good’ is a whole ‘nother thing else. --Nobody is askin’, or needs you, to run off_ punishing _Filbrick over anything -- and if anybody else says different, you come talk to **me** , first," Stan told her. "Making Filbrick blind over this, or anything else to do with those kids, is definitely **bad**. --You hear me?" Stan told her next, as firmly as he could, trying to get the point across, and she nodded. Stan saw this, then let out a tired sigh and ran a hand over his face._

_"Look, maybe hold yourself back from other stuff you wanna do when you’re angry, at least while you’re here in this ‘set’ of ours. And if you do get in a situation where there’s a ‘bad’ person that you want to punish, maybe…" Hell, the examples she listed did sound pretty bad, and Miz believed that ‘the law’ wouldn’t have done anything about them. Yeah, Stan could relate. There were plenty of mobsters he’d wished could have just dropped dead on the spot, so he wouldn’t have to deal with ‘em anymore. (Rico? Had been one of them.) "...get a second opinion before you actually go after ‘em. Or third. Talk to someone and see if maybe there’s some other way to stop those ‘bad guys’ without having to tear their eyes out or somethin’. --There’s a reason you keep judge, jury, and executioner separate, you know?" he told her, wincing. "There’s justice, yeah, and maybe there ain’t a hell of a lot of mercy," not like he’d ever had much of any of_ that _ever thrown his way… "But decidin’ who_ deserves _to get hurt, and how much for how much they hurt other people? You_ need _that second and third opinion, kid, and maybe even a fourth," Stan told her. Because she really, really did. Because the way she equated ‘her emotions being hurt’ to this kinda stuff? --What was gonna happen if she decided ‘hurt feelings’ were ‘bad’ enough to require a **punishment** like stabbing out somebody’s eyes, or chopping off their head at some point, or who knew what else?!_

_And Miz looked up at him as he told her all this, with that odd expression that just made Stan feel uncomfortable. An expression that was so… trusting, like Miz thought Stan would know the answers to everything. "Then, what should I do about Filbrick?" she asked him, and Stan had to look away._

_"Absolutely nothin’," Stan told her. "You leave him alone. I’m fixing it. --You want punishment? I do penalties and lessons. --He tossed away one son like garbage? Well,_ guess what _, he’s losin’ ‘em both, all on his own. --I’m just helpin’ to make it go along a little quicker, by helpin’ that younger me stay with his twin like he should, leaving the house earlier on his own, too, without either of ‘em havin’ to worry about how to survive or anything. --That’s ‘punishment’ enough for Filbrick, and then some. He don’t deserve them, and they don’t deserve havin’ to_ put up _with him anymore, either," Stan told her gruffly -- to which Miz then nodded, and that was that._

Shaking himself back into the present, Stan stared Miz down.

" _I_ can distract Pa," Stan said heavily. "I’ll go in the front of the pawn shop. --You two," he looked over at Lee and Bill, "Go up the back, take the window inside. --Sixer, Ford, you two keep watch. Miz," Stan gave her a long look. "You’re either behaving yourself and sticking with Ford, or you’re taking a trip inside Bill’s hat." Because Stan was pretty sure that she wouldn’t be able to do anything from in there, if that one guy from the kid’s magic show had been any indication, what with the whole frozen dead time thing the kid had going on, on the other side of that thing.

Miz pouted. "I’ll be good." She folded her arms and huffed, but didn’t protest otherwise.

Stan gave her a long look. ...Yeah, she didn’t look like she was lying.

"Okay, good. You _be_ good," Stan told her, reaching out to pat her on the head a few times. Even agreeing without lying about it was a step in the right direction, far as he was concerned; he’d worry about penalizing her later if she ended up losing her temper or something. "You do that," he told her, then added, to hammer the point home a bit, "Means less work for your brother, not havin’ to go off fixing more things while he’s helping me out. Yeah?" That, at least, got him a more positive reaction. Miz whined a little but nodded again.

Stan patted her on the head again -- positive reinforcement still being a thing -- then moved off to the front of the pack. (He didn’t miss how the kid dropped back to where she was, to pick up patting her on the head himself... and kept it up as they walked along. Huh. ...Probably a good thing? Stan looked over his shoulder as the kid worked on her, and realized that maybe the kid thought -- as he was starting to realize himself -- that Miz was having a hell of a lot harder time keeping her temper than he’d thought. ...Well, whatever. As long as it worked and kept her settled. And at least the kid had noticed and _was_ trying to help him out, in a way that might actually be helpful?)

(...He was gonna have to pat the kid on the head later for this one, too, wasn’t he. Or, y’know, now. Once they stopped walking.)

They were all mostly quiet as they turned onto the street and approached the house; even Ford looked pretty subdued. As they got closer, not more than two blocks away, Stan asked, "You two sure that's all of it? Everything that you want?" He turned to Sixer and asked, "What about your schoolwork?"

"What?" Sixer frowned. "--Do I really need to be _that_ specific with what Bill can take?" Sixer asked them, thinking back on what-all Lee had said, and what he himself had said about wanting his bookbag. "Schoolwork and papers is obvious, isn't it?"

"You want more than just the backpack?" Bill added easily enough, and that had Sixer’s eyes going wide, and Lee letting out a half-snort half-laugh. (Stan let out a quiet sigh, and patted the kid on the head a few times himself. Wasn’t like the kid didn’t deserve one or two after saying _that_ , heh.)

"--Sixer, he’s a _demon_ ," Lee reminded his brother good-naturedly, elbowing him in the side. "Gotta be careful with the wording!" he told him, as Sixer scowled and readjusted his glasses, sending his twin a ‘that elbowing was _not_ appreciated’ look.

"Fine," Sixer said, straightening up in place. "Bill, please add any and all schoolwork of mine--"

"--That is in our bedroom," Lee cut in, sounding amused -- because he knew his twin had shoved all of his _old_ stuff into boxes and put them all up into the attic, **every** last school assignment and old textbook and binder -- and Sixer made a sound of annoyance and hunched his shoulders a bit.

"...That is in our bedroom," Sixer muttered, glaring at Lee and looking like he felt vaguely harassed. "And shoes and clothing -- which I already said -- and socks and belts and jackets _and hats_ ," he added, trying to one-up his brother on his listing (except said brother just let out a laugh and said, "But you look stupid in hats!") ...Sixer gritted his teeth, then straightened in place and added after that, firmly, "And gloves and scarves and my knitting."

Ford blinked and gave the younger him an odd look at that last one, knitting, and then looked away. He didn’t remember ever having _knitted_... (Was this something that he had forgotten? Like what a proper breathable air mix for humans had actually felt like, to take in? Because when he’d first gotten back, after so long…)

(...or was it yet another change from something far more recent gone wrong, having to do with their arrival? Mabel _had_ been wearing one of her own hand-knitted sweaters while they’d been here...)

...but there was also no Bill Cipher in _this_ Dimension's past. That had been why Bill was so upset before they’d come here (something about draining the weirdness from his Nightmare Realm?), so perhaps something about Bill's absence had triggered other changes, as well? ...Except Bill himself had said that the Stan o’ War was ‘all but identical’, and he hadn’t been lying. So what could have possibly impacted his younger self, yet somehow had had no impact on that younger Stan? _Stan_ had been the one out of the two of them more interested in sewing-like things, not...

Ford frowned and let out his breath in a quiet huff, then grimaced. (Because this was yet _another_ odd thing that didn’t add up, that just felt out-and-out **wrong** …)

"Spare glasses and the supplies for cleaning them, if there are any?" Miz spoke up, glancing over at Sixer. "Tooth brushes? Hygiene supplies?"

"Spare glasses and your regular checkbook, nerd," Lee prompted his brother, who repeated it in a mutter. Stan piped up at the other items, "The toothbrushes and all that stuff are in the bathroom, not the bedroom, and these two probably need new junk for that, anyway. --We’ll buy replacements for that stuff. Combs and hairbrushes and deodorant and everything else," Stan added, knowing a little more by this point how the demon felt about cleanliness, at least a little. ...Enough to know that he should tell her this junk outright, instead of just assuming that she knew that he wasn’t just gonna let that stuff slide. Stan was a cheapskate, sure, but not _that kind_ of cheapskate. He’d lost his teeth from a couple of straight-up fights, not a lack of brushing.

"We’ll grab the stuff from the house, then stop by a quickmart on the way to the school," Stan continued, "--and grab some things there." He had enough of his own earnings on him right then to cover that, easy, and he knew that he could get more without issue. "Bill can fix up a duffle bag for each of ya then," Stan said to the younger twins next. "-- _This_ is gonna be a grab-and-go," he said of the twins’ bedroom, "A quick in-and-out." He didn't want to risk what might happen if Filbrick ~~(or their ma)~~ realized what they were doing, upstairs. "Kid’ll get your bookbags in order while you two change clothes in the gas station bathroom, and we’ll be getting you all to school there in time for you all to use the locker room showers for the rest of it," Stan told them all, kids both demon and human.

The younger twins looked at each other in slight confusion, at the long sigh from Bill and the excited look Miz got upon hearing all this. ...Wasn’t really a surprise. Stan had talked it over with the demons earlier that morning, and Ford, before the younger twins had finally woken up. (Ford hadn’t liked it, obviously, but then he hadn’t liked it the first time Stan had brought it up at home, either. Probably still thought Stan was out of his mind.) --Bill Cipher in high school. It _was_ gonna be a thing.

Stan had thought that one over, hard. Food, clothing, shelter, and schooling. And schooling didn’t just happen at home. The kid needed _more_ exposure to people, not less. Kid was working off of a limited dataset, or whatever. Not enough experience at actually being human, in the USA, in ‘modern times’ and all that junk. Stan wanted the kid thinking ‘how things are _now_ , **here** ’ _first_ when stuff came up these days, from here on out. _Not_ some stupid junk about cavemen and ancient Egyptians and native tribes did things instead, and whatnot. Stan was getting tired of trying to explain the differences to the kid, and the easiest way to fix _that_ was to get the kid interacting more with more people, _daily._

The Mystery Shack (had been and) was _mostly_ out. The kid didn’t _like_ interacting with adults, and the ones stupid enough to visit the Shack museum would send the kid the _entirely_ wrong message, for what Stan wanted the kid to learn. Having the kid go to school with Wendy, the Valentino kid, and the other teenagers in town, though? That should work out just fine. The school was ‘the school’, not ‘the town’, and the school had its own ‘zero tolerance’ rules about not fighting. ...Well, at least these days, in 2013, it did. And Stan hadn’t really liked or appreciated those rules himself, thinking them pretty dumb himself… at least until he’d realized how he could make that work for the kid.

Because those rules were set up kind of like the same structure as the agreement he had going with the kid. And, technically, some of those rules were even more rigid. One strike, and you’re out; as in, straight-up _expelled_. It was kind of halfway between most of the ‘you only get one chance to do it right _or you die_ ’ junk the kid kept trying to convince him of, and Stan’s own, ‘you can make mistakes and have accidents, but there are damn well _consequences_ that get pretty damn bad _really_ damn quick if you start trying to step on or step over anybody’s lines’. Really, it was more like the kid’s competitive junk, except the ‘or you die’ was an ‘or you get expelled and/or laughed at like the stupid fool you are’... which was _also_ kind of the same, come to think of it.

So, yeah. Stan wanted Bill going to high school, all right. _To learn how to interact with other people_. And the best trick Stan had managed to pull off, to have the kid even considering it at all back home, was that _Wendy_ was going to school, and _Stan_ couldn’t follow her around all day keeping an eye on her for trouble… but the kid _could_. And the kid was _supposed_ to be helping Stan watch out for her as part of the agreement.

...which, yeah, the kid was suspicious of for a good reason, ‘cause Stan had never tried to take things that far for her or Soos before, even though he _did_ have a reputation in town. But. Stan _knew_ the kid was takin’ it all seriously, because the kid had taken it all one step further; Stan _knew_ the kid had been thinking about ‘...what happens when the kids go home for the summer?’ with Dipper and Mabel. Because the two of them? Wouldn’t even be _in town_ with them anymore, and it was a full day’s car ride down to their parents’ place in California.

(Stan was almost positive that the kid had already started something sneaky, trying to get the two of ‘em transferred to Gravity Falls High. And, y’know, he wasn’t exactly stopping him. As long as nobody got hurt…)

Stan shook it off, as he pointed towards the alleyway to the back of the house, and Ford gave him a long look as the lot of them made their way around to the back.

And that left Stan alone at the front of the building, right outside the doors of the pawnshop.

Stan pulled in a sharp breath, then grimaced at himself and forced himself to let it out again slowly.

And then Stan braced himself, took those two steps forward, and opened the door.

\-----

...Well, that had, uh. Been a thing. Stan wasn’t sure how he felt right then. --But hey, at least the kids had pulled off their own stealin’-their-own-stuff ‘scam’ just fine, right?

Stan tried not to think too hard about the folded piece of paper sitting down in his front pants pocket, and he straight out ignored the almost-concerned looks Ford kept sending him, as they all walked the way-too-short distance from there to the best (read: one and only!) gas station on the walk between the house and the school. It took a lot more than Stan had expected to _not_ say anything to Ford on any of it. (Yet.)

Stan roamed the aisles of the gas station mart, and so did the kids, while Ford took up a position by the door like some kind of stupid bodyguard or something. (Hell, Ford…) They all gathered at the front register in less than five minutes, got all their junk up onto the counter (with Stan having to send a glare Lee’s -- and then Sixer’s -- way, to get them _both_ to empty out their pockets of ‘accidental’ items, were they tryin’ to get themselves arrested for shoplifting? they were seventeen, not seven -- their heads came up above the counter, and those bulges weren’t anything like inconspicuous, not even a little), and Stan slapped down the cash and got everything bought up and bagged in even less time than that.

They went outside and around the side, over to where they’d left the two demons to their own devices for a bit. (...Hell, maybe Ford had been watching them; Stan had been able to see ‘em from the door, once they left.)

Stan sat down on the curb with the kid, Miz, and the younger twins to help out with the repacking of junk out of the hat, and also out of the one duffel bag of Lee’s stuff that Lee had insisted on carrying himself, slung over his back with the strap across his chest. (Stan had to cover a snort. He’d forgotten that he’d made that ‘bug out bag’ such a long time ago. He’d read about them in some survivalist spy thriller thing, and made one for himself for ‘date nights’, thinking of a call and a quick bug out for an overnight stay someplace. Wasn’t really meant for a long trip, or getting kicked outta the house, and it had been under his bed, not in the truck of his car, but...)

Stan could kind of understand the urge. (Wasn’t like he hadn’t taken that urge and practically turned it into a damn near subconscious survival instinct, those ten years that he’d been living out on the streets, neither.)

Stan didn’t forget to give the kid, and Miz, a couple of headpats for their trouble (and patted the two kids on the head too, for good measure, though the looks he’d gotten out of _them_ for it had darn near made him chuckle). The two of them (he and the kid) had the teens’ bookbags and duffle bags together in short order, and Stan shooed the two human kids off to the station bathroom, to go brush their teeth and change clothing.

That left him sitting with the two demons, and Ford standing over them all.

Stan turned to the demons and opened his mouth to say, "You two are gonna enroll in school with the twins."

The utterly befuddled expressions on their (and Ford’s) faces nearly made Stan laugh.

"What," Stan said. "You didn’t think I was serious about it, this morning?" Then he sort of got it. "You didn’t think I was talkin’ about actually goin' to school _here_ , right now," Stan said next, sitting back and looking at them all kind of incredulously. (Because, seriously, had they all just thought he was talkin’ about stuff two months from now and back home for his health? ...What, had they all just thought he'd meant sneaking them into the school only to use the showers, earlier, too?)

The kid and Ford looked about to object -- okay, well at least _maybe_ they had been taking him seriously, but had thought he’d just ‘ _magically_ ’ changed his mind or something in-between falling asleep and waking up that morning? Meanwhile, Miz looked like she was actually considering it. (Yep. Dragon-lady probably thought he’d just been talking about havin’ the demon-kids usin’ the showers earlier; otherwise, she'd be looking that same kinda excited all over again as she had earlier, Stan figured.)

"Well, it would let us keep an eye on the twins," she pointed out. (Heh, she was jumpin’ ahead on him, there.) Ford stared at her, suspicious as all hell, while the kid let out another, even longer sigh, and looked resigned when he realized his sister was open to the idea… because the kid knew, and Stan knew, that he wasn’t going to let her run off to human school all alone. (Hell, the kid hadn’t even liked having to send her through the portal on her own without him, even with the thought of being away from her for only five minutes at most. And that couldn’t have just been worry about her getting through the portal okay. Kid hadn’t even been able to think of leaving her behind and having her go through the Door to him -- which would’ve been less than a minute, Stan was pretty sure.)

That didn’t stop the kid from trying to take a different tack at it, though, with a: "We can do that from the outside, just as easily."

"Heh," said Stan. Wasn’t like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep and about an hour under his belt to figure _this_ one out. "Sure, try and cop out of it. If you don’t think you can handle it," Stan said next, which had the kid eyeing him. _Good._ "What?" Stan said, affecting surprise. " _You’re_ the one who thinks ‘normal’ high school in Gravity Falls would be too _easy_ for you," Stan told him, "And that you’d get _nothing out of it_ because it’s all kindergarten playtime, what with all that zero-tolerance policy crap? Well _guess what they don’t have here_ , kid," Stan told him. "You really think you can handle an ‘advanced class’ without any prep, just walk _right on in_ and you’re golden?" Stan challenged him, with a laugh, and he saw Bill’s eyes narrow. (Yeah. There we go.)

Miz actually teased Bill with a smug "Ooooh~" which pulled a _very_ interesting expression from the older demon.

"Stan…" Ford said quellingly, and Stan just flat-out ignored it (except for the ‘shut up’ hand gesture he made at his side to Ford, the side that Bill couldn’t see outright).

Stan pulled in a breath instead, and went for broke. "Kid doesn’t want to go to the school at the ‘Falls because he thinks it’s _easy_ to not get into fights and not get suspended or expelled or all the rest of it, as long as they’ve got that ‘no fights’ rule in place that everybody’s following," Stan told Ford, using him as a wall to bounce things off of here... and an _excuse_ to rehash a few things to death that he _hadn’t_ told Ford yet, that the _kid_ had been arguing about to exhaustion. _Literally._ "Here, there’s no problem if things go wrong, because we ain’t living here. Ain’t the Falls, nobody knows him, no bias starting out to begin with for most of ‘em maybe," Stan said, "And anybody tries to say he’s a demon _here_ is gonna get themselves sent to the loony bin, so long as the kid keeps the magic under his hat," Stan noted dryly. "Only ‘problem’ is that I don’t think the kid could pass as a high school student _at home_ for a week as-is -- not without getting his idiotic triangular ass suspended or expelled, and every last one of the teachers hating his guts -- let alone _here_ ," Stan said, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at the kid. "Where fights can happen and sometimes the ‘wrong’ people get expelled… and sometimes nobody gets in any trouble for it at all," Stan noted.

Bill’s eyes were narrowed to slits. He looked both challenged and _pissed_.

" _Terms_ ," Bill practically spat out at him, hands pushed down against the curb beneath him so tightly that every last joint of his fingers was white. (Ford’s harsh intake of breath was nearly inaudible.)

Stan smiled.

"It’s simple, kid," Stan said smugly, knowing it was gonna be anything _but_ \-- for the kid, at least. "You attend school for a week. Five days straight, not counting the weekend. Actually _attend_. Every class. You don’t get yourself suspended. You don’t get yourself expelled." Stan pulled in a breath, before continuing. "You don't go castin’ magic on school grounds, unless you ask me first and I say it's fine, or unless somebody's gonna die if you don't _intervene_ and go magicin’ up somethin’ to stop it. Agreement rules apply." (Stan saw Ford twitch at that one. --Wasn't like that was any real out, Ford. Hell.) " _If_ you get in a fight?" Stan challenged him. "You _don’t_ kill them, you _don’t_ leave any of them needing hospitalization, and you _don’t_ end up in trouble over it," Stan told him, "Not even so much as a detention slip over it. --And you don’t have any of your teachers hating you for any of the junk you pull," Stan told him, "Inside _or_ outside of school."

Bill was staring at him expressionlessly, except for his eyes, which were staring at him hard, almost searchingly.

"Define ‘my teachers’," Bill said next.

"Any teachers you interact with," Stan said, and he noted the grimace from the kid. "Teachers you’re taking classes with," Stan elaborated, "And any teachers you see at the school who _aren’t_ walking up to you biased, because of _only_ something that somebody else told them," Stan told the kid, then pulled in a slow breath. "You can’t manage any one of those things? _You lose_ ," he drawled out at Bill, and saw the kid’s eyes go all cat-slit thin on him. ( _There_ we go… C’mon, now. Hook, line and sinker...)

Bill cocked his head slightly. Kid was considering it. (Good.) And, after awhile, Bill said…

"...If I do this for a week," Bill started out slowly. "After I show you I can do this and win." (Heh, bold of the kid to assume _that_ one.) "I will have done the ‘advanced course’," Bill continued, sitting back a bit. " _You_ think this is harder than the school at the Falls. _You_ will stop trying to tell me that I need to enroll there. I won’t go to school there."

\-- _Gotcha._

"I’ll stop telling you that you need to take 12th grade at the high school, to get better at being able to be around other kids your age," Stan amended. "You won’t have go to school there." Stan saw Bill’s eyes narrow again, going over the differences in the statements. He hadn’t given any other reasoning for going to school beyond that, other than the ’watching over Wendy and the Valentino kid’ thing. And yeah, if the kid could show that he could watch them and do something from outside the school if something went really wrong, like he’d just suggested to Miz just now? And if Stan _didn’t_ think he needed to up his ‘how not to mentally attack everybody around you whether you’re trying to or not’ game anymore? Then sure. Stan would let it slide. ...But Stan was--

"What are you betting on?" the kid asked him next, flatly, and Stan couldn’t help but grin. (He ignored Ford’s hissed-out " _Stanley!!!_ " ‘cause it wasn’t anything like helping him out right now.)

" _I’m_ betting that you don’t got all your mental attack stuff figured out yet," Stan told the kid, which had the kid giving him an immediate and annoyed clickety-whistle-chirp refusal in reply. (Not like Stan hadn’t expected that one, either.) "And I’m also betting…" Stan drew it out, and he couldn’t help but grin a little wider, toss a Mr. Mystery grin at the kid for this one, "That _even if_ you manage five days of this, here, starting today and doing everything right, for all of it?" Stan leaned in a little closer, grin full-on in place for this one. (And really, he had to fight back a laugh as he said...) " _You’re gonna **want** to go to school at the Falls._"

...Kid was actually leaning away from him slightly now, looking taken aback. (Ford was looking at him like he was out of his frigging mind; what else was new?)

(Which was kinda stupid from both of them, really, far as Stan was concerned. Kid liked talking to people he thought were smart, and second-best was people who were at least _trying_ to learn. People who cared about learning weren’t on the kid’s list, but Stan figured that was just one of the kid’s ‘oversights’. And Stan wasn’t stupid. You went to a school, or a college? And that was all that was. That was where all those people were, the easiest and largest place to find ‘em. Kid was a nerd; he liked nerdy stuff. Kid did other stuff, too, but Stan figured that, if he could just get the kid coloring within the lines well enough not to be mentally demolishing people, just because he was talking at them too long and was practically colorblind -- line-blind? -- to the lines of everybody else and their dog, then...)

It was kind of almost funny. Kid was gonna _like_ going to school. And Stan was sure the kid would never see it coming. And he was pretty sure that the kid would actually be happier, having some fun with it too.

"But hey," Stan said, shrugging like nothing at all really mattered, and dropping the grin. (...mostly. Heh.) " _Maybe I’m wrong_ ," he told the kid breezily, tossing his hands up in a showman’s theatrical ‘oh well!’, and the kid knew _that_ one _real_ well by now. (Heh.)

Dead silence on the curb they were sitting on.

...At least until the younger twins cracked open the gas station bathroom and slowly made their way out. (Stan wasn’t sure what was up, there. Sixer in particular was walking out looking a lot more tentative about _something_ than he’d walked in. ...Huh. Maybe the reality of this shit was finally settling in. Guess the shock had to wear off, sooner or later.)

Stan wasn’t worried, as he stood up and brushed himself off from the curb. (Kid was gonna end up attending anyway, because of his kid sister -- though that one kinda sent Stan for a loop -- hasn’t she been 27 way back when she was human? Hadn’t she ‘survived’ high school already? He’d think that she’d really be the last one who had any reason to go to school, of the lot of them. Maybe he should ask?)

"You two ready to go?" Stan asked them. He got nods from the younger twins. "Okay. Gonna have to hit the office first," he told them both. "Get you both re-registered." Stan was gonna be acting as their caretaker from now on until… well, when they were eighteen at the latest, but Stan didn’t think that was gonna have to be a thing. Really, they just needed enough cash to hold ‘em over for awhile, until they got their high school diplomas, and Stan had more than a few ideas on that one.

Stan took this time to actually ask Miz. "So, you already survived high school, why’re you willing to go back to that hellhole?" (Bill didn’t even bother tossing a look Stan’s way for his choice of language descriptors; it was part of how the kid had described it himself, taken from others.)

Miz blinked. "Well, most of the other kids sucked, but high school was where I met my friends. My human friends. And they stayed my friends even after we graduated, and past college and everything." She smiled fondly, a little sad and nostalgic but practically radiating how much she had… cared about them.

Stan blinked at her. "Huh," he said. He scratched at his cheek. "Yeah, okay," he said to her. "Gotta mission for _you_ ," Stan said, "Since I don’t want the kid getting on my case for making things ‘too difficult’ for him and ‘sabotaging’ him," he didn’t quite outright snicker, as the kid let out an insectile click-hisssss. "Since, y’know, you’ve survived the whole thing once already," he told her. "If you’re up for it?"

"Sure? Gonna need to know the terms first." Miz blinked at him.

Stan nodded. "Wanted to know if you’re interested at all, first," he told her. "Not askin’ for a blank check, here." He took a moment to think how he wanted to put this… "Your mission, should you choose to accept it…" (and Miz _grinned_ , squealing out a short Spy Theme melody) then Stan just decided ‘to hell with it’, and told her straight-out that what he wanted her to do: "...is to make sure that neither of _these_ two knuckleheads manage to sneak out of school or skip any classes," Stan told her, pointing to the two younger twin Pines. " _Especially_ **that one** ," Stan said, thrusting a finger in Lee’s direction, and tossing him his very worst crotchety old-man glare.

Lee gasped, placing his hands on his chest. "Who? _Me_?" He gave them all such a wide-eyed innocent look that even _Sixer_ was staring at him in deadpan disbelief.

Miz cackled. "Sure, I can do that." She tilted her head at the boys, smug grin in place.

Good," said Stan. "-- _Yeah_ , you," Stan followed up with to his younger self, looking annoyed. "You think I don’t know that you’re thinkin’ about sneakin’ off to go try to find another job and make more money, instead of trying to go to class?"

Lee frowned, not real happy that he was caught out, _and_ unable to play any of it off. "But--"

Stan cut him off. "Nope. Nah ah. None of that. You, are going to go to class. You are going to get your diploma. You are _not_ gonna be able to get a decent job from anyone anywhere **without** one; _trust_ me on this," Stan said heavily, with the weight of forty two years _without_ a high school diploma behind him. "I told you, you let _me_ worry about the finances," he told them. "I don’t gotta go to school. I’ve got nothing but time to kill while you’re doing that, and I’ve been makin’ bank for years," he told them both, not thinking he needed to get into the details.

But Lee and Sixer exchanged a glance. And then _Sixer_ said, suspiciously, "...You don’t _look_ like you’ve been making that much money, for any amount of time."

Stan damn near lost it laughing his ass off at that one. It was a _very_ near thing.

"Kid," Stan said, real cheerfully, and meaning every word, "What somebody looks like don’t got anything to do with what they’re making. --You think somebody’s all expensive wine and caviar? They’ve just got something to prove." Stan shook his head. "I’ve been paying for the maintenance on _this guy’s_ gadgets for years." Stan tossed a thumb back Ford’s way, and he ignored the way Ford startled slightly at that. "Expensive as hell to fix ‘em up for parts, lemme tell ya. And the new stuff?" Like that bioscanner? Let alone the electric bill monthly. Stan let out a whistle, then continued with, "--We’re living off of my retirement money at home now, and I bought myself a damn nice boat last year without even having to blink." ...mostly because he knew what was in his accounts, and had everything calculated down to a T long-since, but... Stan shrugged. It might not be ‘millions’, but Stan sure wasn’t hurting for cash. The Mystery Shack had treated him well, but he’d been happy to let go of it and actually _relax_ for a change, now that he had his twin brother back.

...And hey, some of the treasure they’d come across treasure-hunting during their boat adventures hadn’t exactly hurt anything, either.

"Caviar is overrated." Miz muttered. "And screw those people who think putting GOLD LEAF on food is a good idea!" She devolved into an angry rant about over-priced food and needless extravagance that wastes money for no good reason and ruins food that would have been better off without putting goddamn expensive stuff on it just to be fancy-- "You don’t NEED gold leaf AND caviar on ICE CREAM--"

They all let her rant for a bit, until Bill put a hand on her head and she slowly started to calm down. (...Hell, was the kid actually stroking her head with his fingers? _Gently?_ Stan blinked.)

Once they were all sure Miz was done with her ranting (and not about to start it up again), Lee said, kind of uncertaintly, to Stan, "...You don’t _dress_ like you’ve got a lot of money?"

Stan let out a huff of laughter. He was still wearing the ‘Mr. Mystery’ suit Miz had fixed up for him… or at least the suit jacket on top of what he’d already been wearing.

"Jumped through a transdimensional portal in my relaxing clothes," Stan told them both, shrugging. "Suit jacket’s a quick thing." He shrugged it off and tucked it over an arm, showing them. "Say you’ve got bank, yeah? What’re you gonna wear every day. A suit and tie? Or whatever the hell you want, and to hell with what anybody else thinks about it," Stan asked them both. "You tell me."

The younger twins exchanged another look. Stan mentally shrugged it off. Although… "Don’t see you complainin’ about what _this_ nerd-owl's wearin’ over here," Stan said, tossing a thumb Ford’s way again, to a huff of not-quite outrage out of his brother.

That got a snicker of "Nerd-owl!" out of Lee, and Sixer coloring a bit in embarrassment. "--But his jacket coat looks _cool!_ " was what Sixer blurted out next, with zero further embarrassment until both Lee and Stan looked to him in utter astonishment, and he realized how he must have sounded. _Then_ Sixer turned bright red and ducked his head, shoving his hands into his pockets and muttering something to himself that Stan didn’t quite catch... even if Lee did and it set him grinning up a storm and clapping Sixer on the back for _whatever_ the heck it was.

Ford coughed into a fist and looked away, turning slightly pink in sympathetic embarrassment himself. Miz pointed out, "It does make him look pretty hot, really unfair." She turned to Sixer. "Want a cool space-worthy trench coat?" she purred, looking him up and down before pausing. "I’m sorry, you’re too young for my tastes."

That had Sixer looking over at her and blinking. (And Bill eyeing her oddly.)

"...thank you?" Sixer said, looking slightly confused and grateful, to Lee’s rolling eyes, up until he added, "I’m glad you don’t think of me as edible," and that had Lee freezing for a minute and glancing between them, trying to figure out if his brother was serious? (Okay, yes.) And flirting? (Okay, _no_.) And…

"Demons don’t actually _eat_ people when they get too old, right?" Lee asked, glancing around at them all. "Right?" Because, uh, maybe _that_ explained why the two super-old thems were hanging out with two of ‘em? They were like, circling buzzards or something? Only weirder, because Sixer was all about the weird?

Miz rolled her eyes. "Not without permission." She shrugged. "And I don’t like eating people if I can avoid it." ...and that time that she found a planet of creatures that looked like burgers and she had eaten a few without realizing they were people… but she brought them back! She DID.

"Uhhhhhhh," Lee raised a finger, because he had a question there, and it wasn’t getting answered? And that came out sounding… really _really_ wrong if... "Are we talking, like… ‘eating’ eating?" Lee asked. "Or… uh…" the other one, which was the really wrong-one sounding. Because she _had_ looked Sixer up and down in a definitely-checking-him-out kind of way only about two seconds ago. (Ford let out a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t _quite_ as oblivious at 60-something as he had been at only 17-ish years of age, anymore. He knew full well what Lee was asking. ...And so did Stan, who was having to stifle both a wince and a chuckle.)

"I’m not into the whole, ‘having sex’ deal. And my eating habits have nothing to do with my appreciation for looking at things I find attractive," Miz told him. "So don’t worry your fluffy little head about it. I’m not gonna touch your brother. Heck--" she thumbed her hand back to point at Ford "--I haven’t touched mister tall, sleep-deprived, and sexy over there. Just looked at him." (Ford looked vaguely horrified at the descriptors Miz had just used for him, _especially_ so as he realized she wasn't wearing those glasses Bill had made for her anymore!)

("’Fluffy little head’?" Sixer echoed, looking over at his brother incredulously. "Fluffy-head?" Sixer tried out, starting to smile, as Lee gave him a confused, consternated look. "What? My hair ain’t fluffy," Lee said, sounding almost offended. Birds and chicks and cats and _cute_ things were fluffy. Not him!)

"We are going to have a TALK about getting you a set of BETTER STANDARDS VERY SOON NOW, little sis!" Bill said both firmly and loudly, as they all approached the school ‘gates’ -- or, more like, the opening on the wall surrounding the school grounds.

...Welp, time to enroll the demons and re-enroll the kids. Stan took a breath and looked over at the kid. Last chance.

"--Challenge accepted, kid?" Stan asked Bill. Bill stared -- no, damn, all but _glared_ at the building, then turned to look at him.

"YES," said Bill, looking for the world like he thought he was gonna win this one, from the straight-backed set up his shoulders, the raised chin, and the look in his eyes.

_...Yeah, the kid _really_ hadn’t figured out the whole win-win / lose-lose situation thing yet, had he? Stan had to stifle a snort. He just nodded his head at the kid once instead, and said, "I hear ya. Let’s get to it."_

But Miz suddenly stopped in place, looking torn, and Stan had to stop to look back at her. (So did Bill, and Ford.)

"Problem, dragon-lady?" Stan asked her.

"Well…" Miz gestured to herself, and... Stan understood the problem, kinda. Her current physical form looked too young to be in high school (she’d be a freshmen at MOST) but she wanted to stay with her brother.

"...Yeahhhh, just make yourself look older?" Stan said, not really getting why the problem _was_ a problem. The demon-kids could both do the whole ageing-deaging thing to people’s bodies, right? So why did Miz look so embarrassed right now?

"My vessel is already technically SUPPOSED to be 27 years old in human years…" She rubbed her arm. "And I don’t know how to make myself ‘age’ since this is already as old as I can remember looking."

Stan was about to suggest one of those illusions, when Bill looked over. "I can modify your vessel for you?" the kid offered, walking back over, and sending a glance Stan’s way. ...Because that was probably gonna take some serious magic stuff to do.

Stan glanced around. "Yeah, okay," Stan said, "But filter it," Stan told him, as the younger twins realized something was up, and turned around to walk themselves back over. "Toss one up." They were there early, but not _that_ early. There were other people around.

Miz flicked her fingers, looking around to make sure it worked. It did. She leaned against the wall to prepare herself, before Bill asked her, "Any requests?" and her eyes lit up.

"Oooh! Gimme huge boobs!" Miz requested, making both Ford and Sixer choke with embarrassed horror, while Lee practically bent over laughing. (Not like Lee wasn’t expecting to hear something like that.) Stan, being older and a little more conscious of what stereotypes could do to younger girls, just sighed a curmudgeonly sigh and looked away. The kid, on the other hand, seemed confused.

"Why? They’ll just get in the way!" Bill told her, from a knowledge born of experience, and Miz responded to that by placing her hands on her chest and patting her small, barely there breasts with a pout.

"I just wanna know what it’s like to actually have big boobs…" she said, then muttered something about how her human friends had all been utterly stacked and teased her about being so small. It all left Stan feel bad enough about what she was saying to want to turn his hearing aid off. The whole thing was making him uncomfortable, because he was used to hearing the _opposite_ from Shermie; it was still a familiar sort of griping, though. (He didn’t want to feel _sorry_ for the demon-kid, not in any way, shape, or form. He was still pissed off at her for hurting Ford before. And pitying her? _That_ would _really_ get him in trouble. Stan knew better than that, to let things go that far.)

Bill waved a lazy hand at her, telling her to get on out of her body so he could handle things properly for her. So Miz jumped out of her vessel and into the Mindscape to let Bill modify it. Because what Bill was doing wasn’t as simple as just using weirdness to stretch her out and make her taller; this was a biological vessel, not a taffy pull, and human faces and other proportions _had_ proportions to them and those things were supposed to stay within certain acceptable ranges and change with age. So Bill wasn’t just doing a slap-and-dash external mod to her vessel; he was literally tweaking the DNA and ‘resetting’ the whole thing, walking the changes through each and every cell in waves, and then setting off the 'proper' cellular regrowth patterns, to rebalance everything both biologically and chemically.

It went on for awhile, a few minutes. And it seemed that Miz was still making some more requests from the Mindscape, since Bill would nod or ask questions to no-one that Stan (or the rest of them) could see as he worked. Miz’s vessel stayed the same sex and general ethnicity, but it slowly shifted and grew from looking like a 13-14-year-old to something more accepted in this time and era to be closer to 17, filling out with curves. The Stanfords both looked away at first, too embarrassed to watch the process. But Lee watched the whole thing from the start with rapt attention -- not in a sexual way, but he _was_ very much curious and interested. (And after awhile, Sixer started snatching glances over at what was going on, too.) Stan just sighed and waited the demon out. Because really, these kids.

Miz slipped back into her vessel and gasped as she examined herself. "Holy shit! I’m sexy!" she grinned maniacally. She grabbed large handfuls of her chest and purred. "So this is what they feel like? Ooh~" and Stan wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. This was his life now. Still, he had to speak up before things got any worse.

"Hey Miz," he called, for her attention. She turned to him, still groping her own chest. "Maybe see about fixin’ your clothes so they fit again?" he told her, with a tired sigh, waving a hand up and down at her. Her dress had been cute and modest on her previous form, but now the end of her dress was up around her upper thighs, and probably just barely covering her butt in the back. Her new chest was also straining the fabric in front.

Miz looked down, blinked and then her clothes lengthened and shifted to fit her new form. "Better?" she asked, finally letting go of her breasts and twisting around to look herself over. Stan nodded, noting with relief from the straps peeking out at the sides of the wide-cut neck that she had even given herself a bra. "Yeah. That’s a lot better. Good job." He didn’t pat her on the head as he turned away from all of them to head for the double doors in and the office, but he sent a glance the kid's way, and saw the kid start to do it for him out of the corner of his eye.

Getting the two demons into the school ended up not being too hard. After they all sat down in the ‘waiting area’ chairs at the side of the principal’s office, and Miz threw up another filter for them (Bill being barred from using magic during the school day, except for emergencies, as the start of what Stan hoped would become a good habit for more than _just_ school...), Miz forged a few documents the way Stan directed, for both herself and her brother.

Stan already had everything he needed for re-enrolling the kids in his pocket; the rest was all on him. He was essentially going to be Lee and Sixer’s ‘guardian’-slash-caretaker both, with Sixer having been thrown out by Filbrick. (And according to an angry Miz, Filbrick had ALWAYS intended to throw Stanford out. Stan wasn't holding his breath on that one -- not without getting a bit more context outta the kid for what had happened to the two of _them_ specifically -- but from a few things that he'd seen and put together so far...)

Stan was taking the twins as a matched set (despite Sixer saying at first that Lee should keep living at home, not wanting to risk him getting thrown out, too, and Lee thinking of maybe sneaking him food and stuff, and keeping the money costs for keeping Sixer in food and stuff more easily that way by keeping his own that low). It hadn't been that hard to convince those kids that he had the right of it, either. Stan had just made it clear to the two of them that he’d be _damned_ if he was going to be the one to split up the two of them, and they’d both stared at him wide-eyed, looked at each other…

...and they’d mostly just gone along with it after that. (Well, except for Lee wanting to drop out of school and get a job. Not that Stan was gonna _let_ him screw things up for himself that way; not if he had any say about it, and he did. Have a say in it.)

For now, they were all gonna be living together on the boat. Bill and his sister were gonna be staying in the magical sandcastle up on the deck from now on -- one which had a larger opening now, and was a hell of a lot more stable, up to _Bill’s_ own standards. (They’d worked on that first-thing, after Stan had finished his little pow-wow with the demons and Ford, just before he’d started working on cooking up breakfast.) Ford was going to help Lee (and Stan) make the final repairs and upgrades to the boat that Lee had been intending to make for awhile now, but hadn’t really had the time or the ability to do all by himself. (Sixer would concentrate more on his homework, and applying to colleges.) Miz would go fishing to get enough food to feed herself as a start, for now, while Stan would continue to run his cons along the boardwalk to earn enough money for food for the rest of them and other necessities and then some. Once Stan had enough money to bootstrap himself up to something more lucrative and more easily self-sustaining, he figured he’d do just that -- at which point he’d take over paying for the food for all of them, including Miz.

They would make this work. _He_ would make this work. --Heck, part of the reason Stanley was even enrolling the demons in school was to keep them occupied for most of the day so that he could have some time to himself, to think and to plan -- not just more time to himself to make money. Socializing Bill was the main point of the whole schooling thing, but really, Stan was doin’ it for the same reason that he had originally talked Melody into helping out with him back home at the Shack for most of the day -- and it wasn’t just so that he could spend some more time with the niblings that summer himself.

After he took the paperwork from her, Stan only watched the demons out of the corner of his eye as Miz materialized different clothes for herself and Bill, and then stuffed them into (this time, pulled out of Bill’s hat) two duffel bags ‘borrowed’ with a ‘please’ from Lee’s own things from his room.

"This is what people think looks nice right back then now," Miz proclaimed, as she kept pulling at her current bra, adjusting it, unused to the weight of her chest.

"You sure you want them that big?" Bill drawled out, as he stood up and shouldered his own duffel bag, knowing _exactly_ what Miz’s problem was.

Miz pouted. "It’s fine! I can do this!" She made a determined expression that just made Bill hum at her in exasperated amusement.

"What is it with humans and wanting oversized parts?" Bill muttered. "It’s like all of you have completely forgotten about minimalism!"

Stan finished looking over the forged paperwork, then shoved himself up onto his feet himself. "Gonna take this over to the office," he told the kids, waving the pile of paperwork at them. "You four, go to the locker rooms, shower, freshen up, and change." He didn’t wait to see if they did what he’d told them to do; Stan just turned and walked away, ticking his head at Ford, to have him follow him. (And as he did so, he slipped a folded piece of paper out of his front right pants pocket, to add to the bottom of the forged paperwork pile without any of them noticing, as he went…)

The twins and the demon kids looked at each other. And then they all seemed to shrug and get up to do just that.

\------

Miz, fresh from the shower, decided she wanted to go with something different again still, and shifted her new clothes into a loose sweater-shirt and jeans, instead. She brushed her hair back (drying it instantly, making it fluff up) and hummed to herself before walking out of the locker room, to see Lee and Sixer already out there and done, and Bill (sans hat) leaning back against the wall nearby them.

"Does this look good?" she asked the human twins, as she materialized a pair of glasses and slid them on. (Sixer was blushing slightly; he was both taking glances over and over again at her, while also trying to keep looking away.)

Lee just gave her a grin and a two thumbs up. "Lookin’ great! Super hot." Hell yeah. Curves in all the right places and legs for days! She was gonna make all the other girls jealous, Lee knew. (And sure, Lee also knew what the older thems had told them: that Miz was actually a demon dragon-lady who spent most of her time pretending to be a child. But hey, she’d wanted to look like a busty bombshell, and now her older form was a hot babe! Lee could respect that.)

Miz grinned at Lee’s input, blushing a little. Bill glanced over at her and then turned to Lee, looking like he was halfway between deciding to scowl and maybe set him on fire with a glare, or something? Lee just shrugged and raised his hands up, palms-out, saying "Hey, she asked!" backing off. Because wow, overprotective much?

Bill ruffled Miz’s hair. "Don’t let the squirmy feelings get the better of you," he told her. He hadn’t been able to do much to help with that, since Miz had told him it was a vision thing that wasn’t just a body-thing, unfortunately.

Miz pouted. "I’ll be fine. I’ve gone through high school once, I can do it again." Her chest bounced when she attempted to skip down the hall and she stumbled a little, not quite used to counterbalancing yet. ...And she glared at Bill when he slipped right up to her and ‘caught’ her by ducking his arm under one of her flailing hands, and then capturing said hand by clasping his other hand over it and pressing down.

As she put her weight on his arm to stabilize herself again, Bill simply returned her glare with a superior smug smile -- after all, _HE_ had no balance problems in commanding his body to go walking him around to other places! He was even good enough at it to help rebalance other people, HAHA!

Miz straightened, letting out a soft, "Thanks," despite her embarrassment and walked around carefully, adjusting to the weight on her front. Her chest bounced with each step. "I can do this. Not like I’m gonna be wearing heels," she muttered.

"Just don’t try jumping again," Bill recommended, as the twins caught back up to them.

"...This isn’t the way back to the principal’s office," Sixer pointed out, adjusting his glasses. He hesitated a bit in place, feeling a little taken aback and overwhelmed, as Bill turned towards him and gave him a HUGE GRIN.

"YES!" Bill said enthusiastically. "What’s your point?"

Lee and Sixer exchanged a glance. "Ah, well." Sixer cleared his throat. "How, exactly, will you know your schedule, if you don’t--" He stopped, as Bill let out a loud "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" at him, grinning, and then Miz’s eyes began to Flicker. It was very odd to watch.

"Schedule, get!" she said cheerfully, blinking the static from her eyes.

"Schedule, ALREADY KNOWN," Bill said, even more smugly to his little sister, tilting his head at her. "Planning!"

Lee and Sixer exchanged another glance. "Uhhh, so…" Lee began, then stopped when Bill got _right_ up in his face, and then tapped a finger to his chest.

"OUR schedule is YOUR schedule!" Bill told him, looking all kinds of excited. "YOU are not going ANYWHERE ELSE," Bill told him, abruptly leaning back to a normal upright position again, the usual amount of personal space away from him again. It left Lee blinking, and feeling a little off-balance.

"Um." Sixer glanced over at his brother, who usually was not at a loss for words, at _anything_. "That’s… nice?" Sixer tried, not quite clutching his book bag to his chest. (He had his duffel bag across his back.) And this… got him no change in expression from the two excited-looking demons. "...We need to go to our lockers?" Sixer tried next, glancing over at his twin again, who let out his breath in a rush, and looked over at him again, finally.

"Lead the way!" Bill grinned at them both, then turned sideways and gestured forwards and past him with a flourish. Sixer adjusted his glasses and offered Bill a smile as they walked forward and past him… in the same direction he'd been going, to their lockers.

"...Are we allowed to bring demons to school?" it finally occurred to Lee to ask his brother under his breath, glancing over at him as he readjusted his backpack (still on his back) and his duffel bag (strap on one shoulder, under his bookbag strap).

"What, you’re going to try and tell them no?" Sixer asked him quite realistically right back, just as quietly.

Miz was glancing around at the hallways and doors as they went. She had of course, gotten the full layout of the school, where all her classes would be, when they would happen (but knowing her, she was gonna forget unless she checked again before each class) and the fastest, most efficient route to them. Here’s hoping this rendition of high school life would be easier! At least she wouldn’t be struggling to understand the school work this time around. And… she grinned at Bill and the twins. She had friends who would actually be in the same classes as her now! Her human high school experience had only allowed her to see her friends during lunch and after school, since they were in all different grades and classes.

Bill was leisurely walking along behind them all, lifting his hands and arms above his head to s-t-r-e-t-c-h his body out a bit, then rotated and moved his arms back and forth across his chest from side-to-side, stretching them this way and that. And as he did so, he craned his head around, looking around for someone _in particular_. Because ‘high school’ was a cesspit of biological hormones, with the law of the jungle in play, and Bill knew EXACTLY how to end up on the top of the pinnacle of the heap in a place like _this!_ EASY PEASY!

Miz was on the lookout for a particular person, herself. She wasn’t going to harm or attack them, but… passive-aggressiveness was fine, right? Messing with them by simply being _better_ than them in everything they cared about was fine, right? Miz walked a little closer to Sixer, swaying her hips as she settled into the proper mindset. (Sixer glanced over at her oddly, not really understanding why she was suddenly walking differently, then decided that it must be some sort of camouflage thing, since some of the girls in school did that, too.)

The two demons escorted the twins to their lockers without issue (though the Pines hardly realized that that was what the two demons were doing for them). They both managed to get into their lockers and get everything they needed to squared away (duffel bags shoved in, books and papers managed, bookbags back on). It was only after they both finished what they were doing and slammed their locker doors shut, to turn around and look down the hallway, that Sixer groaned slightly and clutched at the bookbag straps at his shoulders, not doing a very good job at stifling a groan. Neither did Lee, who outright said, " _Crampelter_ ," the way most people said, "Oh, look. _A dead rat._ "

Miz glanced over, blinking at the large teenager coming down the hall. She saw his eyes roam up and down her body, lingering along her chest. Miz twitched. Right. This was gonna be a thing. She tightened her hold on the strap of her backpack. She was going to have to learn to deal with this.

Bill, on the other hand, lit up like every holiday and birthday that he’d never had? Had all come calling at once! He was grinning up a storm.

And, after Crampelter looked their way and seemed to get a ‘what the hell’ frown, the twins followed his gaze back and did their own double-takes at Bill’s grinning reaction.

"Uh…" Lee said, looking back and forth between them, as Crampelter stomped his way over, still frowning. It was pretty clear that the big bully had no idea what the hell was going on, what with the Pines twins just standing there right next to two girls that he’d never seen around town before.

"Here!" Bill said, still grinning right at Crampelter as he grabbed the strap of his duffel bag and lifted it up and over his head, before shoving it straight into Sixer’s chest. "HOLD MY BAG for me, will ya!"

\-----

_’Huh,’_ thought Crampelter, as he made his way across the hallway and over. New girls? Around the losers? --Better fix _that one_ real quick before they got the wrong impression about the city. And hey, that oriental chick was pretty fuckin’ hot too. Time to roll out the welcome wagon! (He didn’t get why the taller one was grinning at him like that, though.)

"Hey," Crampelter said, as he strutted up to the four of them, upping the machismo to cow the two losers while focusing a flashing grin on the girls. "What’re two hot ladies like _you_ doing with these two losers right _here?_ " the bully asked them both. Wasn’t like he didn’t know how to charm the socks off the girls, and it was pretty clear after watching them for the half-minute it had taken him to walk over that the two girls were a pair themselves, probably sisters.

"Oh, I’m _SO_ glad that YOU ASKED!!" the grinning one enthused brightly, her grin getting even wider. She straightened up just a bit more, and put her hands on her hips as she loudly proclaimed, "I’m CHALLENGING YOU to a FIGHT!!"

There was a second there where there was dead silence in the hallway, and Crampelter was still smiling down at her. And then the black-haired girl’s words actually registered.

"...What?" Crampelter said slowly, confused. "A fight? With me?" He started to smile again, ready to laugh at what he thought must be a joke, but then slowly lost his smile as the girl let out a laugh _and then nodded at him enthusiastically_. The busty one was hiding a cute giggle behind her hand.

"Uhhhhh…" the sweaty twin said next to them, as Crampelter looked around at them.

"--Is she serious?" he demanded out of the Pines twins, pointing down at her. He watched as they both turned to each other, and did that stupid looks-and-glances thing between them that they always did. Like it ever meant anything at all, except that they didn’t have more than one barely-working nerd brain that they had to split _between_ them.

"Ahh, welllll?" the freak twin said next, looking a little embarrassed and twitchy, and adjusting his glasses, not meeting Crampelter’s eyes for some reason. "I… I don’t think--" And Crampelter stared as the freak twin started talking to _the girl_ and said, "Perhaps you, ah, _shouldn’t_ challenge him to a fight? Stan-- uh. Your, uh..." The freak twin stopped and coughed. "He said--"

"--Don’t get into trouble!" the crazy girl grinned. " _I’m_ not getting into trouble, I’m planning on getting TROUBLE into trouble! --And then PUNCHING it like a dead horse and KICKING it into the river!" the girl enthused. "And _then_ TOSSING IT into the _lake!!!_ AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Crampelter stared down at her, then looked over at the twins again.

"...Did you tell her I don’t hit girls, or somethin’?" Crampelter asked them, confused. Because, what the hell? The twins just gave him identical helpless expressions.

"Oh, is that a PROBLEM?" the girl said to him brightly. "WELL THEN," she said next, rocking back on her heels, "LET ME _**FIX**_ THAT FOR YOU!"

And the the girl moved her hands in front of her, to spread a hand across her chest, and closed her eyes for a moment, almost kind of like she was kind of concentrating?

And then...

Crampelter stared.

So did the twins.

"...I don’t think you’re supposed to do that in school," the freak twin said, sounding strangled and kind of staring.

"WHAT," the gir-- _guy_ said, lowering his hand, and what the hell was with his _hair?_ "This is what I STARTED OUT looking like," _he_ said (the HELL?!?!?) "And it wouldn’t really be all that FAIR if he didn’t FEEL like he couldn’t TRY to HIT ME while I DESTROY him in a fight, now, WOULD IT??" the guy grinned out absolutely maniacally. (And then the sweaty twin turned to the busty girl and asked quietly, "Can you do that too?" to which she laughed, "Of course! Though, I was female to begin with," which made the sweaty twin look somewhat relieved.)

Yeah, no. Fuck this noise. Buncha freaks!! --And who the hell had hair that turned _blue_ for no freaking reason? Crampelter pulled back a fist and sent it flying the Freak’s way, straight for his skull.

The Freak moved a hand upwards and caught it. And stopped it dead.

**(((((((((((((((((((((((Warning for VIOLENCE against a teenager))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))**

Crampelter stared.

He felt his expression drop, and then a chill go down his spine, as the Freak flicked his gaze straight over to him, and paused. And then _slowly turned his head towards him_ , slitted cat-eyes staring straight-out at him and into his skull the whole time, _grinning_.

Crampelter tried to pull his hand away. And then he realized… _he couldn’t_.

\-----

The twins watched the blood drain straight out of Crampelter’s face as he tried to tug his hand out of Bill’s grasp, and Bill didn’t move an inch. Crampleter’s arm and his chest did a lot, as he tried again, but his hand, and... _Bill’s_ hand? Not even a little.

"Oh, shit," Lee whispered out quietly. He knew this feeling. Hell, he’d been on the _wrong side_ of this feeling. But he’d _also_ seen enough fights, standing on the sidelines, to know… Crampelter was about to get _wrecked_.

Miz hummed as she leaned back against Sixer’s side. "Well, this shouldn’t take long."

Sixer was staring. This was… this was...

Bill, still grinning like everything about this was the _funniest thing in the world_ , pulled back his other hand in a fist... and planted it straight into Crampelter’s gut, faster than Lee had seen just about anybody move before ever... except _maybe_ that older Sixer guy when he’d been messing around with those cops, out in front of their house two days ago.

Crampelter… didn’t go anywhere. His head drooped slightly, and he just...

There was a hushed silence around the hallway as the other students just stared. Miz was glad she’d thrown up that mild Perception Filter... (right before Bill had used the tech embedded in his bodysuit to bend the light being directed into a few select Pines-eyes, and one Crampelter in particular, in a very different way -- in a fully ‘scientific’, technologically-enacted and selectively-applied ‘illusion’, since Bill wasn’t supposed to be using _magic_ in school...)

(Miz knew, as she’d heard Bill issue his challenge, that some of their conversation was really going to need some censoring. And she breathed a sigh of relief that, because of her own spell, all the other students had heard was the original challenge -- not the rest -- and nothing about the rest of that part of their conversation that would have conflicted with what little the rest of the hallway _had_ been able to see.)

...as Bill pulled his fist back again to his side, Crampelter just sort of... _folded up_ , his knees dropping out from under him, his one arm upraised… because his hand was still caught in Bill’s iron and unmoving grip.

And then Bill laughed, let go, and Crampelter... fell the rest of the way to the floor, to let out a groan.

" _Wow!_ " Bill enthused out at them all. "Color ME surprised! Who would have _EVER_ Seen THAT coming?" Bill said to all and sundry, strutting forward a bit and out to the side, into the middle of the hallway, then turning towards Crampelter again and--

Lee barely saw the motion, almost heard Crampelter’s body _slam_ up against the lockers _first_ just in front of them, from the kick Bill had just as quickly delivered to his side, one that had Crampelter letting out a wheezing breath and slumping down further with almost a whine.

Lee turned to Miz. "Shouldn’t you… stop him?" he asked her. Miz scoffed. "That filth hurt you and your brother for years. This is just… karma," she grinned.

"OH," Bill said, kicking his foot against the ground, as the entire hallway stared at... _her_ , because the only thing he’d really done there was modify how he’d LOOKED to those very few individuals standing near him (with a directed tech-based illusion, back to what he’d _used_ to look like before, sexed-male and cat-eyes and blue-hair and all). The rest of them were still seeing the general magic-based Stanley-Pines-approved illusion he'd walked into school wearing, of a normal-looking, tall, short-haired, black-haired, fair-skinned girl… kicking Crampelter’s dumb STUPID (carc)ass all across the hallway. "I _think_ I’m done here!"

There was a pause for a moment, like the entire hallway was letting out a slow breath of relief.

And then Bill shot forward, grabbed Crampelter _by the neck_ , and made an _overhand throwing motion_ \-- lifting Crampelter up and over his shoulder as he twisting in place 180 degrees -- to toss the boy DIRECTLY and bodily _straight_ into the row of lockers lining the other side of the hallway. (Lee and Sixer, staring at this, could only blankly think that it was probably a good thing that nobody had been standing over there…)

_Silence fell, except for the metal ringing sound of the lockers that was slowly fading out._

And then Bill straightened up again, and clapped his hands together once, with a grinning smile. "WELL!" he said, then rotated his body exactly 60 degrees in place to face the rest of the hallway. "I TAKE IT BACK!" Bill said loudly. " _NOW_ I’M DONE!"

And while everybody was still staring at him, and at Crampelter, and trying to recover from _what the hell they had just seen him do_ , Bill continued on quite happily with…

"I THINK we ALL KNOW _NOW_ what happens if you cross A GIRL when you're A GUY who is an IDIOT who does not RECOGNIZE ME as someone who YOU ALL will NEVER, _EVER_ want to mess with!" Bill proclaimed brightly… then suddenly lost the smile. " **EVER.** " he intoned out at them all at the last, staring out at the lot of them like he was the spectre of death and destruction himself. (Because hey, _that_ sure had been a fun Qxwel’Ken-or afternoon, taking over that minor deity's job for a 'sick' day, a couple billions years ago! HAHAHAHAHA!)

**(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((Ok, the one sided beatdown is complete x_x;;;;; )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))**

The hallway was dead silent, except for the sound of the soft pained (and painful-sounding) groans coming from Crampelter.

And then the bell rang.

Bill went right back to smiling again.

"CLASS TIME, EVERYONE!" he called out, clapping his hands together three-times-fast, as the bell finished dying down so that he could be heard again.

And then Bill dropped his hands to his sides and strode off with a purpose, as if he owned and had an absolute right to every last inch of that hallway, if not the whole school entire.

The kids in the hallway stayed frozen for one long moment, except for the few frightened individuals who hurriedly moved out of Bill’s path (or anything looking like it was within arm’s reach of the crazy girl as she moved).

A teacher poked their head out of a doorway and looked around (not having many students in attendance for homeroom yet) and called out, "What _the hell_ are you all doing, standing around out there?"

And then everyone started moving again in a rush.

Everyone, that is, except Crampelter.

\----

Miz and the young Stans made it to the homeroom they shared. Bill was already there, having claimed the desk that he wanted, right in the first row in the front-and-center of the classroom. Miz giggled as she walked over, hips rocking back and forth. "Well, that’s one way to win at high school." She glanced around before claiming her own seat. The twins sat down near them, Sixer was staring at Bill in awe, still clutching Bill’s duffel bag to his chest. "That... wAs…" his voice cracked. "...AWESOME! Tha-that was amazing!" he squealed out.

Bill didn’t just _enjoy_ the praise, he absolutely _preened_ under it. Sixer was practically bouncing in his seat. Watching the bully who’d tormented him all his life get taken down so _easily _was… it was so COOL. Miz glanced around, the students that were already here were giving them a wide berth. "I wonder if Stan would find out about this?" (And to this, Bill just gave her a _smile_.)__

____

__

Lee looked over at them, feeling uneasy and not exactly liking what had just happened out there. --Yeah, sure, their old bully had gotten himself beaten up to hell and back; hooray. But Lee had kept up with his boxing lessons, unlike Sixer; he had a better idea exactly what that kinda shit took, and how _badly_ a beating Crampelter had just been given. And he’d seen how the guy had hit the lockers -- kind of sideways at least, rather than directly head-on -- but… he’d _also_ seen how he hadn’t been moving afterwards, and heard how he’d barely been groaning. And they’d all just walked off and left him there. So…

"...Is he dead?" was Lee’s question to the really fucking dangerous demon who was currently sitting in a seat that his brother had just sat himself _right down next to_ without a care in the world. _Within arm’s reach_.

"Don’t worry so much." Miz told Lee. "This way, no one in the school would dare to mess with Bill, and us by proxy." She neatly took out a notebook and other supplies from a small pink backpack she had created to put her school stuff in. Might as well check to see if she had everything she needed. "Just go about your school day like usual."

" _Is he dead,_ " Lee repeated, starting to wonder exactly what he and his brother had just stepped into, and then Bill said, "No, he’s not dead." Lee let out a breath of relief, up until Bill said next, "If I killed him or sent him to the hospital, I’d lose Stanley’s challenge!"

Lee stared at him. "...What challenge," he said slowly to the crazy, way-way- _way_ too strong to be human, killer demon.

"Just a little game," Bill told him with a grin. "And I intend to _WIN_."

Miz was sharpening her pencils. "Don’t worry about it. Stan’s really firm about the whole ‘not killing’ thing." She grinned at Lee. "This is all about getting Bill to learn how to socialize with humans better!"

Lee stared at her incredulously. "How was _that_ socializing?" he complained, gesturing at the door to the hallway.

Miz rolled her eyes. "He didn’t kill him. Also, Crampelter attacked Bill first. Right then. So Bill defended himself."

Lee frowned. "But he challenged him," Lee pointed out.

Miz raised an eyebrow. "And that kid accepted. Or rather, he attacked, which, in a way, was an agreement." She didn’t see the problem. That bully hurt the twins for years. She had no sympathy for him. And he wasn’t dead and didn’t require hospitalization. So there was no issue.

Lee was getting a headache from all of this. "You shouldn’t be picking fights in school," he said to the older demon. Hell, was the older-him okay with this kinda shit? Or had he just gotten used to it, with the older-Sixer getting into fights with cops all of the time, instead of knowing how to run away well enough to lose them without getting into an actual _fight_ with them all?

"I didn’t start a fight with him, he started a fight with me," Bill said easily. "I challenged him. He could have said no."

Lee stared at him.

"Challenging a guy _is_ starting a fight with him," Lee told him. Because seriously, what the hell?! Did the demon not realize a challenge was starting a fight?!

Bill looked over at him, and the demon actually looked surprised. (Hell. Was this an actual _thing?_ )

Bill opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang again to signal that homeroom was starting and drowned him out. Bill frowned as Lee waved him off, grimacing himself. The demon mostly settled in, as the teacher started reading the notice from the office.

Ah, new students. The teacher looked up to immediately spot the two new girls sitting in the front row of the classroom. "Everyone, we have two new students joining us today. Please stand up and introduce yourselves."

Bill glanced around and started to stand up, then paused with a frown, and made a twisting motion with his right hand before slapping it against his left wrist. Then he sent a glance over his shoulder, back Miz’s way. (Bill didn’t know why Miz had tossed up a Perception Filter centered on him, but the readings from his suit told him that it had been on him since right after his challenge to Crampelter in the hallway…) How was he supposed to be winning Stanley’s challenge if she was helping him cheat when he was trying to win it by Stanley’s own rules? (All he could do was try to cancel out or override the sound-altering magic with his own mix of science- and magic-based tech, but that part was experimental for other-magic-and-weirdness-not-cast-by-him, he didn’t know if it would ACTUALLY WORK to...)

Miz caught the glance and took down her filter, giving Bill an exasperated look. Her expression was ‘Please don’t cause a scene now that we’re in class’ before she packed up her school supplies.

Bill frowned, and twisted his hand the opposite direction (following it up with a plucking motion to cancel the previous command and turn off and depower that experimental functionality again), before lifting it away from his wrist again. He didn’t really understand why Miz seemed to have a problem with… him?

Bill looked down at his wrist, then blinked away the visual overlay from his suit (being beamed directly into his eyes) for the moment, and finished standing up. He moved to the front of the classroom, having Seen this sort of thing enough to know how this was supposed to go, from several of his memories of human things that he’d Seen before.

Miz got up and followed; the two of them drew glances from everyone in class. Terror for Bill and wariness for Miz. She also noted all the stares going towards her chest. Ah… this was… a little… embarrassing...

...but she wasn’t going to let that get her down! She was going to enjoy having a mature, sexy body while she was here, and screw what everyone else thought! She wasn’t going to be a child anymore! She’s a big girl now! _(Miz carefully ignored the part of her mind pointing out that she was just trying to justify this to herself and wasn’t really fooling anyone. Shush brain! Let me have my busty anime girl fantasies~!!!)_

"Hello!" Miz said cheerfully. "Um… I’m Miz Cipher. It’s very nice to meet you all." She smiled like a sweet little angel, tilting her head adorably to the side. Lee stared incredulously. Some of the guys in class were already grinning stupidly at her.

Bill started out by laughing a bit, "AHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" with his hands on his hips. Then he stopped and said, "WELL WELL WELL." He leaned forward slightly, looking around the classroom. "LOOK at ALL of YOU!" he said while made a wide sweeping gesture at the class, then slapped his _other_ hand to his chest. "My name is BILL CIPHER," he said, grinning out at all of them. "But YOU can call me BILL!" he said cheerfully to the entire class.

And then Bill dropped the smile.

He also dropped both his hands back to his hips, but moved them to a more relaxed pose this time, in loose fists, knuckles resting against his hips, shoulders relaxed and dropped a bit.

"It has come to my attention," Bill paused only briefly, to look over at Lee, before moving his gaze back up to the rest of the students in front of him, "That _challenging_ someone to a fight here is something YOU ALL consider to be the same as STARTING a fight." Bill smiled slightly. "This is incorrect!" Bill told them quite cheerfully, pointing a finger up to the ceiling. "You can say no to challenges!" Then he dropped his hand and the smile, looking serious again. "But to avoid confusion, I will make this clear in the future by using the word for whatever YOU ALL call a CHALLENGE instead, if I decide that I want to do WHATEVER you all call a challenge at some indeterminate point in the future, as yet to be specified, that will probably happen sometime soon, because _of course it will_ , but maybe just not here!" Bill said, giving them all an odd sort of smile at the end of this (because, really, even he didn’t entirely believe what he was saying about the ‘maybe just not here’).

He looked out at the class. The class of students looked back at him.

Miz was face palming. Well. Y’know what, whatever. Let Bill do what he wants.

" _Also!_ " Bill said next, with his original level of enthusiasm. "I will not start any fights with anyone! I will only end them! In self-defense!" he told them with a grin. "--Unless you start a fight with my sister, in which case I _will_ destroy you," Bill said very seriously again with a nod -- and quite reasonably, he thought! Warning was now given! Ground rules established. "ANY QUESTIONS?" he asked them all, looking around the room, looking (and feeling) very interested in anything that any of them might have to say to him.

(And, before the teacher could quite respond to any of this…) One very brave (or foolish?) soul in the back of the classroom raised their hand upwards quite tentatively.

"YES!" Bill said quite happily, pointing at the student in the back. "Miss Mary Johnson of 121 Turtle Lane, Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, of Earth! What is your question?" he said, looking downright excited.

Pretty much the entire class stared at Bill.

And then, nearly as one, they all turned in their chairs to stare back at the girl in the back of the classroom. (Except for two small groups of teenagers scattered at the sides of the room, who actually knew Mary and were all exchanging glances with each other, wondering how in the hell the new girl had known both her name _and_ her address…)

Mary (who had gotten to class early, and had no idea what had just happened in the hallway) asked of the new girl at the front of the classroom, "Your name is Bill? Not Billie?"

"Yes!" Bill said. "My name is Bill Cipher. --Also, no!" Bill said quite happily. "My name is--" and he let out a fast series of odd clicking chirping sounds rather quickly, "Which translates most closely to ‘William Cipher’ in the current-day iteration of your silly arbitrary and constantly-shifting human American English language. --But YOU can call me Bill, because I said so!" Bill told her with a winning smile, like he thought Miss Mary Johnson in the very back of the backrow of the classroom had just won some sort of very special prize.

Now BOTH Lee and Miz were face palming. (Sixer, on the other hand, was feverishly taking notes on what he was tentatively calling, for now, demonology…)

"Um," said Mary. "But, you’re a girl?"

"Incorrect!" proclaimed Bill. "I am a guy! My body just happens to be female-bio-sexed right now, because I decided that I wanted to do that," Bill told her with a nod. "And then I did that!"

There were the starts of a few ‘is she _serious?_ ’ smiles getting exchanged around different parts of the classroom, and definitely a lot of incredulous glances.

"...Why did you decide to do that?" Mary asked, propping her head up on her palm and just going along with it. She was used to homeroom being _boring_ , but… this wasn’t. And at least nobody was laughing at her for asking a stupid question from the new girl or anything, like they usually did?

"Because being a female human is SOOOOOOOO much EASIER!" Bill told her enthusiastically, holding his arms out from his sides and then kicking one foot off the ground and spinning around in place _exactly_ 360 degrees on his foot, before coming to a stop again, and putting his other foot down again. "Meditation is SUPER-EASY!" he told her, dropping his hands to his hips again. "Male humans can’t do it properly at all," Bill waved off. "And tossing people is so much easier, because the _female_ human center of mass is much _lower_ than the _male_ \--"

"-- _All right!_ " the teacher said, clapping her hands together. "I think we’re done here!" she said a bit brittlely, which had Bill blinking and turning in place.

"We are?" Bill asked.

"Yes," the teacher said firmly.

"Why?" asked Bill, which sent another round of glances around the classroom.

"Because I said so," said the teacher, and Bill’s eyes narrowed to slits.

Bill stared at the teacher for a long moment. "...Why do you say so," Bill said finally, not smiling at all, and not having moved from his current position at the front of the classroom. Miz wasn’t sure if she should step in or not.

"...Because we need to let the rest of the kids introduce themselves to us too?" Miz asked tentatively.

Bill turned and looked at his sister. He turned and looked back at the teacher.

"Logical," Bill said to Miz. "But your explanation was flawed," he informed the teacher. "You should work on that! You can tell me your full reasoning. I am not stupid; I will understand you!" And then Bill turned around and took the few steps he needed to, to go back to his claimed desk and sit himself back down again. Miz sat down as well.

The teacher pulled in a deep breath, and debated whether sending the girl to the office was worth it… and thought about the questioning she would likely get from the girl _before_ she actually left the room on it, if what had just happened was any indication, and exactly how long that would take. ...And then she decided, for the moment, to just avoid the potential headache by letting it go for now.

"Mrs. Kimberly--" Miz spoke up, "--Just saying ‘Because I said so’ is not a reason. It is just a statement. It doesn’t explain anything. Please think more carefully in the future so you can give an actual reason when you ask for something." It would certainly save the woman a world of headache when dealing with Bill.

The teacher gritted her teeth, then straightened her dress.

"Detention, for the both of you," she said firmly. And at least she wasn’t on the rotation for that day -- and good luck to whoever was, because she had a feeling that they would need it.

Miz frowned. "Why are we getting detention?" she asked.

"Your sister was being rude and discussing about how she’s going to be getting into fights with people, and you interrupted me without raising your hand," the teacher told her promptly, turning away from her towards the blackboard at the front of the room. Miz raised her hand. Then she waved her hand when Mrs. Kimberly didn’t see it.

Mrs. Kimberly kept writing on the board.

Bill put his hand out without even really looking, and gently pulled Miz’s hand back down. Miz huffed. She couldn’t believe she got detention on her first day.

"It’s fine," Bill told her. "We’ll make friends in detention. We want to go there!" Bill told her quite cheerfully.

"...What was that?" the teacher said, turning around at the front of the classroom. (Bill hadn’t exactly been trying to be quiet.)

"What was what?" Bill said right back. Lee was covering his face with his hands, unsure how this was all going to work out. (Except he already knew it wasn’t. Having demons in school wasn’t going to work out.)

The teacher narrowed her eyes at Bill. "What did you say, right before that?"

"I said, ‘It’s fine. We’ll make friends in detention. We want to go there!’" Bill repeated quite clearly, which had the entire class staring at him again.

The teacher was staring at the new girl in flat out disbelief.

"...Detention is a punishment," the teacher said slowly, wondering if the two girls had been homeschooled, or something. (Had the transfer order said something about that? It had only gone through this morning, she hadn’t really gotten a chance to read it thoroughly…)

"HA!" said Bill, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, looking triumphant. "No, it isn’t!" he exclaimed, grinning.

The teacher pulled in another breath, and let it out in pure exasperation, passing a hand over her eyes (but being careful not to touch her makeup as she did so). Miz raised her hand. Mrs. Kimberly glanced at her. "Yes?"

Miz lowered her hand. "English isn’t either of our first languages." she said simply. ("This is true!" Bill chimed in, happily enough.)

The teacher blinked at this. She glanced between the two of them, trying to figure out if they were both actually being serious or not. (They didn’t have non-native accents, but...)

...Lord have mercy, if she didn’t say something now, the girl and her sister would likely be racking up detentions the entire rest of the day, at this rate. And right now, the teacher wasn’t entirely certain whether they’d actually all be deserved or not.

"A detention isn’t a gold star," Mrs. Kimberly tried. "It isn’t a reward for good behavior." She glanced between the two of them. "Do you understand?"

Miz nodded slowly, looking a little worried. She’d never actually gotten detention before.

Bill smiled and said, "Yes!" The teacher breathed a sigh of relief, until Bill said, "A gold star is a gold-shape, made of gold, with an intrinsic value. A detention is an artificial human concept that involves a piece of paper being handed to a student, who is then supposed to report to a room to sit in for a period of time starting after the end of a school day’s classes, and if they do not do this then they get another piece of paper handed to them later, the next time they are seen by the people who handed them the first piece of paper in the first place, and are supposed to report to a room to sit in for a period of time starting after the end of a school day’s classes!" Bill affirmed to her, showing that he understood what she was telling him. "It’s fun!"

Miz blinked slowly. "Sounds like an inefficient use of time that could be spent doing homework." Were they allowed to do homework during detention? She didn’t actually know what happened in detention.

"It can be spent doing anything!" Bill told her. "But sometimes the things end in yelling. _Especially_ if you try to leave the room before they say you should leave the room. It’s supposed to be like jail," he told her, "But with no locks on the doors, and no people with guns who will shoot you if you try to leave the room, and no innocent-until-proven-guilty system that is meant to prevent the absolute violation of basic human rights and decency as listed in the Constitution of the United States and thus leads to systemic abuses of the system for no good reason!"

"And no beatings!" Miz grinned. "At least, there aren’t supposed to be beatings right? I think some schools still allow teachers to smack students with heavy objects…" She frowned. "Will there be beatings in detention?" she asked the teacher with her hand raised. She used to get her hands smacked with a ruler for drawing in class, back in Chinese school.

"If there are beatings, then I will destroy them first, so there will be no beatings," Bill affirmed. "But there are no beatings here, yes. I checked for that already. They do not do that here."

The teacher’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two girls during this exchange.

She opened her mouth to say something (because had the taller girl really just brought up the _Constitution?_ )--

And then the bell rang again, signalling the end of homeroom.

"English class next!" Bill said enthusiastically, jumping to his feet. "The insane usually audally-transmitted time-delayed voices of the damned, instead transcribed and related to others through a quasi-randomly-chosen set of groups of markings on paper! How fun!" He grinned.

Miz got up and pulled on Sixer’s sleeve. "Show me where the classroom is? I saw the layout of the school but it would still help to have a guide." (Sixer, blinking and grinning as he packed up his notes on Demons and how they apparently understood human concepts, nodded. "Sure.")

Lee muffled his groan as he followed after his brother, who was dragged out of homeroom by the demons. Bill was still laughing loudly. Everyone was staring at them. (Lee DID smirk when he noticed all the jealous looks being sent at his brother when Miz pressed close to his side, though. Heh.)

"Oh, good lord," the teacher said, as she watched the four of them leave the classroom, looking on after them in horror as she found herself afraid of what else those two were going to do in their other classes.

And it was only as the rest of the students slowly packed up their things and filed out, she realized that she hadn’t actually handed either of the two new girls their detention slips on paper.

The teacher sighed, shaking her head as she turned away and bent down over her desk to get ready for her first class of the day, when she was interrupted by--

"--Aha!" The teacher turned back around and stared at the doorway, where the taller new girl was pointing at her and looking… not quite triumphant exactly. The teacher pursed her lips, fully expecting the next words out of the girl’s mouth to be, "HAH! You didn’t give us our detention slips!" Fine, yes. She was supposed to give those out before the period ended.

"Yes, you got me," she acceded, turning away from her.

"Where are they?" the girl said next, and the teacher hesitated. She slowly straightened back up and said, "What?"

"The detention slips," the girl said, walking back into the classroom and right back up to her. "Where are they?"

"I…" the teacher stared down at her. "They’re in the top drawer of my desk," she said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"Give them to me," the girl said, and for a moment the teacher almost protested, angry and alarmed -- why in the _world_ would she just hand over her _entire_ pad of detention slips to some troublemaking-- "It’s mine, you gave it to me, I want it. I and Miz get detention! You said so!" the girl told her before the teacher could read her the riot act, and the teacher’s eyebrows went straight up to her hairline.

And the teacher stared at the girl for a long moment, as she stood there, arms crossed, looking impatient as she waited for her detention slip.

"...No," the teacher told her slowly. The girl stared at her, then blinked, and her face went a little slack.

"What?" the girl asked her, frowning.

"I’m not giving either of you detention. Go to your next class," Mrs. Kimberly said, because if the girl wanted it so bad, she wasn’t going to get it.

Mrs. Kimberly wasn't stupid. She’d raised three daughters of her own. If something that was supposed to be a punishment was considered a prize, you switched it up on them, and made _not_ ‘punishing’ them a punishment, instead.

"But--" the girl began.

"--No," Mrs. Kimberly repeated, just as firmly to her. "I am not changing my mind on this. Go to your next class."

The girl stared at her for a long moment. And then the girl huffed out a breath in annoyance at her, turned on her heel, and marched right back out of the room again. The teacher could just about see the frustration steaming off of her in waves.

Mrs. Kimberly smiled.

And then she let out a sigh and turned back to her desk again. ...Well, homeroom for the rest of the year was certainly going to be interesting. At least she wasn’t going to be having either of them as students of her in any of her _regular_ classes...

Hm. Actually…

\------

"She said no," Bill informed Miz, looking frustrated as he caught up to his sister in the hallway.

Miz patted Bill’s arm. "It’s ok. We don’t need detention to have fun at school." Well, then again, she’d never had detention when she was human, maybe detentions were actually fun? She wouldn’t know. Lee was staring at them incredulously.

"Hm," Bill said, frowning and not entirely convinced of this fact(?) and/or opinion(??) just because Miz said so.

Miz admitted, "I never had detention the last time I was in high school and I still had fun?"

Bill eyed her sideways. He looked away from her again.

" _Fine_ ," Bill said huffily (again, still not all that convinced that Miz was correct about the levels of fun involved in this). Then he brightened up as it occurred to him: "We could find out where the detention room is and go there anyway!" and at this, Sixer glanced over.

"Well, I’m sure you could ask Mr. Moon when we get to English?" Sixer told them.

"Yes," Bill said, grinning. "I shall use LIES to ABSOLUTELY get what I want this time." He nodded once firmly, while grinning twice as wide as before.

Lee felt like crying.

\------

Bill stomped out of English class, looking even more frustrated.

Lee had a headache by this point. (Sixer was stifling giggles, having WAY too much fun observing the demon, the jerk. Could he take it seriously! This was serious!)

"I… I can’t believe you got in an argument for the entire hour with Mr. Moon over how you deserved a detention slip!" Sixer wheezed out. They’d even been arguing in Shakespearean couplets for a good twenty minutes there, just because Mr. Moon had said that Bill had to match him in doing it for at least as long as he could, in order to show him that he really _deserved_ one. --A detention slip, not a gold star.

"His soliloquy on the merits of gold stars was stupid and not factual," Bill complained. "And also stupid. --And Romeo should have checked for breathing with a mirror!" Bill complained further (...which had Sixer stifling giggles all over again, because Mr. Moon had still managed to work the topic of the class into the hour-long argument, too).

"The entire point of the play was that teenagers were illogical and do stupid things in the heat of the moment without thinking things through." Miz pointed out. Which… was a fair assessment for teenage drama. Seriously, Romeo was a hormonal drama queen. Then again, from what she’d seen, all humans were hormonal drama queens.

"THERE WERE TOO MANY ILLOGICS IN A ROW," Bill complained. "And the nurse should have kicked in the door! And where was _Romeo’s_ nurse!" Bill said caustically. "In a society full of THAT MANY people THAT DUMB, for INTERNAL CONSISTENCY there should have been equal amounts of oversight of both parties! Otherwise, no teenagers who are being dumb always would EVER survive long enough to procreate. --Thus, no adults! --Thus, no more children! --Thus, no Romeo and Juliet to live even THAT long-enough to be THAT stupid, let alone EXIST IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!"

Sixer was delighted to listen to Bill’s ranting all the way down the hallway to their Physics class, while Lee heard Miz muttering "Great, physics. That thing I’m constantly breaking. This’ll be fun…" She sounded almost annoyed as she looked at the classroom.

Bill stopped in his rant when he heard the word ‘physics’.

"...Physics?" Bill said to Miz. Then he blinked. "Oh, yes. The limited human sciences. Yay." He sounded far less than enthused about their upcoming class this time.

"You don’t like physics?" Sixer asked him worriedly, readjusting his glasses. _He_ liked physics. (...Was there something wrong with it that the magic-wielding demons knew about, that he didn’t know?)

"Chemistry is more fun inside buildings," Bill informed him. "Because you get to BLOW THINGS UP!" he grinned, while tossing his arms up in the air demonstratively. As Bill never bothered to lower his voice, a few kids nearby shuffled a little farther away from their group.

Miz grumbled. "Energy cannot be created or destroyed? How rude. I’m creating energy all the time!" she muttered. "Acting like all my work means nothing…" (Sixer stared at her. She could _create_ energy?)

"Energy to matter to energy," Bill hummed out. "So inefficient usually. Have to take shortcuts! Closed systems are a lie! And you shouldn’t try to bypass the etherics ever," Bill scolded, "No-no-no!" (Sixer had his notebook out and was already scribbling stuff down as they all sat down in the front of the classroom. Lee tossed him an aggrieved look for riling up the demons even more on the way to the classroom.)

"Amuse me, mortal teacher," Bill demanded as the physics teacher turned around. "For I am happy to destroy your vile certainty in all things physical, for your ignorance offends my Sight!" (He was still in a bit of a mood from English class.) "Also, give me a detention slip!"

"Why?" Mr. Harman (the physics teacher) said, blinking at the new girl in the front row. (He’d gotten the paperwork from the office of course: two sisters, William and Miz. He wasn’t sure why her name was William; he had thought it would be a brother and sister until he actually saw the two of them in-person. Interesting.)

"Because your ignorance offends my Sight!" Bill repeated. "I just told you!" (Miz smiled at their new teacher. "--We just came from English. We did a Shakespeare block," she said to explain why her brother was still speaking like this.)

("Right," Mr. Harman said. Frankly, he was still stuck on the fact that…) "Was that supposed to be your justification for destroying my vile certainty? Or the detention slip?"

Bill blinked at him.

And then Bill grinned.

"The first one!" Bill told him. "Also, you’re being amusing, so I don’t have to destroy your vile certainty now!" (The other students filing into class were staring at them. Some of them were from homeroom, others had been there in English with them. They were all watching; these new girls were crazy but they _were_ interesting.)

Now, the thing about Mr. Harman was that he was a bit of a kidder. He liked a good joke as much as the next guy, and he was friends with Mrs. Kimberly. And it wasn’t as it they all didn’t have the new girls’ schedules, or didn’t have student runners at this school. He'd been 'warned’ by his friend, as it were.

So when Bill told him this, Mr. Harman sat back on his heels and he said, "Well, now. That doesn’t seem very fair. You only gave me one reason for the one thing there, not two. And what if I _want_ my vile certainty destroyed?" he asked of the new student, who was apparently related to, if not friends with, one of the best students that their school had ever seen.

Bill blinked at this. And he thought about that one for a moment, as Miz perked up. "Did you know that some electrons spin like planets? They match up but are still asymmetrical! And that spin makes the atom they’re attached to more likely to annihilate another atom that’s got a normal rotation?"

Mr. Harman looked over at her. "...I had heard of that, yes," he said to her, perking up a bit and getting a bit more interested in the other sister, who apparently wasn’t as much of the abnormal sort of troublemaker? (He technically wasn’t a teacher by schooling, exactly. He’d gotten the training to be certified for it, but he had a Ph.D. in physics from a, well, not very prominent university, but he liked to think he was well-versed in most of the general field’s matters, and the most recent atomics!)

Miz grinned wider. "Did you know that all those differently spinning electrons happen because they’re actually from another dimension? They get accidentally phased into this one and the atoms they annihilate are actually just being sent back to their original dimension?"

Mr. Harman blinked at her. "That one, I had not heard about," he told her honestly. "What scientific journal did you read that one from?" he asked her.

Miz laughed. "I’ve Seen it happen with my own eyes!"

"Well, that’s all well and good," Mr. Harman told her. "But the thing about science is that an experiment needs to be repeatable by others for the results to be verified for a hypothesis like that," he told her with a smile, "And I really don’t think it’d be nice if a bunch of curmudgeonly old scientists of note had to try and borrow your eyes for that one, my dear," he told her kindly, with a twinkle in his eye.

Miz grinned. "Get me a particle accelerator and a few matchsticks and I can make it happen again~"

"But how can _we_ view the results?" Mr. Harman asked her. "How will we know what is happening in that other dimension and this one, otherwise?" This was one of the more advanced classes, so he was used to having debates -- what he really liked to think of more as brainstorming sessions for the group.

Miz scoffed. "Why do you think I suggested the matchsticks? Most people would be able to see when fire appears and disappears!"

"Ah," Mr. Harman said, "But at a macroscopic level, it would be difficult to prove that the fire appearing and disappearing is due to electrons and atoms moving between dimensions, when the processes we are viewing at a macro level are happening largely between complex molecular chemical compounds that are going through the oxidation process?" he asked her. "The release of energy could be explained by other things, and it would be hard to prove that a disappearance of energy from this dimension was occurring."

"Open a viewing portal into the other dimension so you can watch the reaction taking place in both spaces at once." Miz shrugged. Simple as that.

"And how do I open a viewing portal?" Mr. Harman asked her. "Does it also show the processes at a subatomic level?" he prodded her gently verbally, because she hadn’t really addressed the primary problem he’d just brought up -- isolation of the experimental properties, and the problems in resolving the differences in scale involved.

Miz blinked. Then she walked up to the front of the room and picked up a piece of chalk to begin writing out a complex series of equations onto the board. "Add a magnification effect… distort the light particles, make it into a waveform…" she mumbled to herself as she calculated the changes needed to produce the desired effect. Human eyes couldn’t SEE into the tiny subatomic particle sized spectrum of reality. Sixer was staring at the board, copying down EVERYTHING.

Mr. Harman left her to it. He turned back to the other new girl. "So, any thoughts on whether I have to remain stuck my vile certainty for all time?" he asked her. Interestingly, that seemed to get the girl over whatever stumbling block or wall she’d been working through in her thought process -- because clearly, she _had_ been thinking.

"...’For all time’ can be a long time," the girl said slowly. "TOO LONG."

Mr. Harman leaned back against his desk behind him and crossed his arms, expecting something of an interesting verbal argument out of the girl.

What he got instead was a raised arm and a shot of-- he wasn't _sure_ what. But he felt the shockwave from _something_ that travelled through the air that was right next to him, and he saw something _else_ go flying out of the corner of his eye.

He most _definitely_ heard the crash, as he whipped his head around, to try and see what had just happened.

...and the entire stack of textbooks that had been sitting on the far side of the desk was no longer sitting there anymore.

He looked back to the girl, who was sitting there easily… while the rest of the class was left staring speechless.

"...Did you just throw something?" Mr. Harman asked the girl.

"No," she said.

"What did you just do? --No, wait," Mr. Harman said, standing up and walking around the side of the table. ...Yes, there were all the books. He picked them up and stacked them up on the side of the table again, before turning to her and asking, "Would you mind doing what you just did again?" while gesturing to the books, and the girl raised her arm and--

Mr. Harman blinked.

He looked down.

He looked at the intervening distance.

He looked over the side of the table, where all his poor (and rather thoroughly abused on a daily basis) books were strewn all across the floor _again_ , some of them missing pages now.

_Then_ he looked up at the girl and said, "...How did you do that?" Because he had no idea how she had done that. He knew the books didn't have anything magnetic in them, an air gun simply wasn’t strong enough for that, and the girl didn’t even seem to be _holding_ anything where she was sitting. She’d simply raised her arm and made a fist, and--

"Force wave," the girl told him simply. Mr. Harman blinked. ...Well, at least there was a name for it that made sense?

"Did you just use some kind of mechanism, or…" and he trailed off as the girl did something at her wrist and… "...Were you wearing that a moment ago?" he asked her next, because she seemed to have some sort of bodysuit on under her normal clothing.

"Yes!" the girl told him.

"Why couldn’t I see it before?" he asked her, and the girl told him: "Because I was bending the light around it so that you couldn’t," and Mr. Harman blinked at her again, because… Stanford’s friend had somehow made a functioning invisible suit?

"How did you make it do _that?_ " Mr. Harman asked her, eyes gleaming. Because he could take or leave chemistry most days (even though he taught that, too), but the electromagnetic spectrum, and advanced materials? Those was his bread and butter, and his meat and potatoes, his first two loves of science, and--

"--and carry the two…" Miz finished her calculations with a flourish. She turned to grin at the class. "And THIS should create a viewing portal into the nearest parallel dimension AND have a magnification effect so you can see subatomic particles with just the naked human eye!" She slapped the blackboard, leaving Mr. Harman distracted for a moment, with his eyes jumping between his two newest students. "And to see what this would actually look like--" She held the calculation inside her head and pulled on reality around her to make it happen. Her hand trailed down along the blackboard and a small line appeared before spreading open into a small oval, looking something like a mirror but within it were a series of flashing lights, dots, spinning particles that moved and clicked together as they stretched on for miles and miles within the viewing portal, as far as the eye could see and then some.

Mr. Harman stared at this awesome sight in pure wonder.

And then he turned to Stanford Pines and asked him, quite seriously, "Mr. Pines, did you just bring two space aliens from an advanced civilization into my classroom today?" And Stanford looked uncomfortable enough that Mr. Harman was about to reassure the boy that, no, he wasn't mad, he’d just _really_ like to know, thank you...

...when the older girl spoke up again for herself.

"WELL," said the older girl, "MY Stanley -- not this one," she said, flicking her fingers at the younger Stanley Pines sitting not next to, but certainly nearby her, "-- _does_ like to call me an ancient immortal alien space wizard on occasion," the older girl told him quite seriously.

" _Really_ ," Mr. Harman said, with a slow-growing grin. "Tell me more."

And with that, Lee buried his face in his desk. (That’s it. His life was over. Seriously, the demons couldn’t even _pretend_ to be human for more than a few hours.)

\------

Bill was very proud of himself. He’d managed to get himself a detention slip in Physics class!

"YES!" Bill enthused. "VICTORY IS MINE!!! --Ours," he corrected, looking over at Miz, because she had also been handed a detention slip, too.

Miz glanced down at her slip. Her very first detention slip. This was a big moment for her. "I’m gonna frame this on the wall back at the sand castle." She grinned.

"--You should!" Bill told her, with a matching grin.

"You know you only got those because Mr. Harman is the one doing detention today, and he just wants to be able to talk with you more about science stuff after school," Lee pointed out, not real happy with them, because he’d almost been given one too (for interrupting the teach when the bell rang and they’d really needed to get to lunch). At least, he _had_ had one for doing that, until he’d explained the whole deal with the detention slips and junk to the teacher for him, and Mr. Harman had revoked his own detention for being ‘very helpful instead of disruptive in class for once, thank you Mr. Pines’. (Which was kinda annoying, if you asked him, because he usually got ‘Stanley’ and Sixer usually got the ‘Mr. Pines’. _He_ wasn’t a helpful nerd; that was his _brother’s_ thing.)

The other students were whispering about them now. Miz blinked as she finally realized they had pretty much blown their covers. Also, she didn’t like some of the things people were saying about them. She shuffled a little closer to Sixer, reassured unconsciously by being close to someone she knew.

"Well, at least it’s lunchtime," Lee said, with a sigh. Because hey, what could go wrong with that?

Miz gasped. "School lunches!" she cried out in excitement, jumping, bouncing and nearly toppling over. (...And a few boys walked into walls and lockers because they’d been too busy staring at her chest.)

"UGH," said Bill. " _School lunches._ "

He shoved his hand into a pocket and pulled out his ‘eyepatch’, and twisted it back up into his top hat, _right_ as they were walking in through the double doors of the cafeteria… (because that wasn’t a magic thing, either, it was a multiplanar geometry thing that he was impacting through lower-dimensional shifts in applied force that left ripples through the time vector to unpack the folded matter at the tipping point of energy convergence at the most unstable zero-point state of flexure…) He’d ‘compressed’ it down and stuck it in his pocket while he’d been waiting out in the hallway for Miz to finish changing her clothes at the beginning of their ‘in-school’ school day today.

Lee looked back and forth between the two. "So, I’m guessing you two have very different opinions about the food served in schools?" he asked, as Bill grumbled and dug a hand into his ‘recovered state’ hat.

Miz grinned. "How do they manage to make food taste entirely unlike food?!"

"Decades of buildup of etheric poisoning," Bill said almost absently. "Mostly. Also, lizard people taking over the key human society supply chain points here, after losing contact with the logistics lines from the front, to try and make it their own -- unsuccessfully. Because _humans_. Also: cheese."

Miz looked around the cafeteria, there was a line of students grabbing trays and walking up to the side of the room where the lunch ladies were shoveling slop onto their trays. "Uh…" She tilted her head; her own high school never had actual slop for lunch before? "But does it contain the proper nutritional content that growing children need to keep them awake and alert for a day of learning?"

Lee looked at Sixer.

Sixer looked at Lee.

Sixer adjusted his glasses and then said, quite intelligently, "...Um. Welllllllllllll…" He winced. "That… _may_ depend on your definition of ‘nutritional content’--?"

"--No," Lee told her straight up. "It does none of those things that you just said there, no." See? Like ripping off a bandaid. Sixer didn’t know what he was doing, being all not-blunt with the demons and all. It was fine! How could lunch not be fine? --Lunch was lunch. No schoolwork, no teachers asking questions, getting to hang out with your twin and eat food while flirting with girls… it was _lunch!_

Miz gasped, horrified. Then her eyes narrowed. Food was important. How DARE the school not feed the children? She glanced around and saw most kids were just tossing out the food after a few bites. This was _unacceptable_! She marched away towards the door that led into the kitchens. "Hang on, I shall be right back…" she growled out lowly.

Bill pulled a box of crackers out of his hat, then put his hat absently back on top of his head (to hover there _where it belonged_ ). He looked up to see Miz vanishing into the back, blinked, and turned to the two local Pines.

"Is she doing a cooking show?" Bill asked them. Because there was a very large and well-stocked and -outfitted kitchen back there. He wasn’t sure what else she _could_ be doing back there, if not that. The lines for the food-eating were out HERE, after all. She should know that, having gone to high school before and having survived it, and all, Bill reasoned.

The twins glanced at each other. "How would we know?" Lee groaned. What was the demon-dragon lady going to do? He was almost afraid to ask. Then they all heard a small commotion around the food line and the twins turned back towards the food line to see Miz running around, grabbing the large metal pans full of slop, running them into the back, and then running back out to replace them with… _actual **food?!**_ Lee blinked when he saw one pan filled with filleted fish in a thick sauce with diced vegetables. Another pan had roasted chicken breasts with corn, string beans, and carrots. And Miz was still bringing out more! All different. All delicious looking...

"Oh _man_ ," Lee said, as the smell hit them from even back where they were still standing, pretty close to the doors that went back out to the hallway. " _Please_ tell me that’s not some crazy mirage or illusion spell or some junk."

Bill blinked and looked up, then frowned a bit as he checked the readouts he was getting from his suit. "Reconstituted at a subatomic level, not a temporary change. Not a ‘crazy mirage’ or ‘illusion spell’ or ‘some junk’," Bill told him as he grabbed a chair, sat down, and looked down to start working at opening up his own box of crackers for a meal.

Lee’s mouth watered when he saw one pan was filled with mashed potatoes and...wait, no, that was shepherd's pie! There was meat and vegetables under there! He saw the other kids were all scrambling to grab trays and run up to the lunch line. Lee wanted to join them.

And there was no reason why he shouldn’t.

"--Your sister is awesome!" Lee told Bill quickly, and then he rushed forward to get some of that stuff for himself! The end of the line even had DESERTS! Cookies and cheesecake and fruit salad and-- was that ICE CREAM?!

Sixer looked over at the food. And then he looked down at Bill.

"Is there a reason why you’re not eating what you sister is making?" Sixer asked Bill carefully.

"Yes," said Bill, and Sixer hesitated.

"Bill," Sixer asked carefully next, "Is that food… are those pans of what _look_ to be food that your sister is putting out over there safe to eat?" Sixer asked next.

"Safe for who?" was the not so very reassuring answer that he got back next.

"...Safe for me and my brother to eat?" Sixer asked next.

"Yes," came a reply that was just as prompt as all of the others, and Sixer blinked at Bill in relief.

"So it’s perfectly fine for humans to eat?" Sixer asked Bill, point-blank.

"Yes. It’s perfectly fine for humans to eat." Bill finally got the plastic wrapper inside of the box open without incident, and grabbed up and started chewing on his first (of soon to be many) cracker(s).

Sixer observed him eat for a while before asking, "Is it perfectly fine for demons to eat?"

Bill paused for a moment, mid-chew, and looked up at him.

Bill swallowed the mouthful of cracker that he’d been chewing on, and said, "I COULD eat it. But I have reasons I DON’T WANT to." Bill looked down and grabbed another cracker up. "I said that before." He shoved the next cracker he was holding into his mouth.

Sixer nodded slowly. Okay. That was fine. He wanted to ask more, but his stomach growled and Sixer blushed, then decided that he’d be better off asking more questions later -- _as_ they all ate, _after_ he had a little more food in his system -- and ran off to go grab a tray for himself. Because he could talk to Bill more after he got some food. (Bill wasn’t going anywhere -- the demons were _supposed_ to stay with them, so their older counterparts knew neither of them had skipped school!)

Lee was practically drooling as he scooped up the food. All the students had piled their trays up with it. Stan even spotted a pan filled with different salads and vegetable dishes (...for people who didn't want meat?). Miz had even placed placards in front of each pan that listed all the ingredients for anyone who might have food allergies or certain things that they couldn't eat. ...Heck, there were three different pans of shepherd's pie with beef, pork, or chicken for the people who might not be able to eat one or the other for non-dietary reasons.

Lee carried his tray back to the table where Bill was just nibbling on crackers. He looked around. Sixer must have gone up to get some food.

"You're not getting anything?" Lee asked Bill as he sat down and took a bite of fish. Ah~ tilapia~ The sauce was thick and creamy and the vegetables were diced so small that Lee didn't even mind eating them (because hey, if they were that small, were they even really there?).

Bill shook his head. "I don't eat that junk."

Lee shrugged. Whatever then. Sixer came back with his tray and immediately started cutting up his chicken to eat., then took a bite and moaned "Ooh…" at the taste.

Finally, Miz returned, tray piled high with a bit of everything and another tray with some plain salad and roasted vegetables. She slid that tray over to Bill.

"No meat, fungi, added sugars or anything like that. Just plain vegetables," she told him. Miz had been worried about Bill's eating habits. Toast and crackers weren't enough for anyone to get by.

She also placed down a glass of apple juice, real apple juice. "You need to eat more," she not-quite scolded her brother. She hadn’t wanted to say much at first, being too busy eating food for herself, but seeing Bill eat nothing but crackers for meals was beginning to worry her. "What if you get scurvy or something? Can you even get scurvy?" She sat down with her own tray of food, a mix of fish, vegetables and shepherd's pie.

Bill looked down at the vegetables. The salad was plain, no dressing or anything. The vegetables had been dry-roasted. Bill glanced up at Miz. She had made this all with his preferences in mind? That was...

Bill glanced down at the tray as pulled out and he ate another cracker. But he was thinking (and looking at his suit’s readouts) as he did it.

"...Not here," Bill told Miz finally, pushing the tray away from him a bit. Because this _wasn’t_ the sort of thing that gave off the right image for what he was going for at the school. Eating just vegetables and fruit… He knew what that looked like to omnivores who thought they were carnivores in every way that mattered. He _wasn’t_ going to be giving anyone any confusion on exactly who or what he was; not on their first day there, and not on their last one either -- _or_ any day in-between.

But Miz frowned and put her foot down. "Eat. My. Cooking." She stared at Bill unblinkingly. Lee and Sixer looked back and forth between the two.

"Not. Here." Bill said unblinkingly right back. "I _shouldn’t_ have to explain to you why."

"I can put up a Filter." Miz insisted.

"That’s cheating," Bill said, turning away from her. "You carried it over as-is. Too many people saw it. Eat it yourself." It would fit with the general image she was going for, anyway.

Miz sat up straight and declared loudly. "Eat. Your. Vegetables. NOW." Sixer and Lee stared. The other kids around them were staring too.

Bill gave her a long look. (Hm. This could work, too...)

He raised a cracker, as if showing it off.

"I. AM." he said next, before popping the cracker in his mouth and chewing it, rather loudly.

The other kids stared, unsure about this showdown happening. A few of them were whispering. "Dang, bitch fight?"

The tension seemed to grow before suddenly, Miz’s entire posture changed. She pouted and batted her eyes at her brother. "Please eat your veggies? For me~? I cooked them just for you~"

Bill did not look amused at this, at all.

But he did sigh, turn away from her towards the tray in front of him, set down the cracker box on the table with a soft ‘thunk’, and pick up a fork.

"Fine," Bill said. "But only because you made them not-terribly this time. And said please."

The other students relaxed, glad that there wasn’t going to be a fight. They were afraid of what would have happened if the crazy strong girl had started chucking tables or something just as crazy-go-nuts.

(‘Good’, thought Bill, grinning internally as he popped a bell pepper piece into his mouth and started chewing. Miz had made something clean enough for him to eat, and even helped him set up a situation in which he could eat it without coming across seeming like a prey animal. --Leadership structure and parameters established for the idiot humans who were all watching them: _he_ was in charge, but would listen to his sister NO MATTER WHAT, even if seemingly ANNOYED with her at the time. --Anyone attempting to mess with his sister would _NOT_ find him distracted, or willing to brush it off if brought to his attention by her!)

As their group ate their lunch, a lot of the other students were all whispering. The lunch ladies were unable to explain what had just happened with the food trays in the back. Everyone went up to get food and the students were all grinning, even as they pointed over at Miz’s table and gossiped about what had been happening so far that day. A few kids from the Physics class started spreading around the fact that the two new girls were apparently aliens. The ones who’d seen the beatdown that Bill had given Crampelter all shivered. A super-strong _alien_ girl?

The ones from homeroom spread around the info that the crazy violent alien girl was apparently a _guy_ , and had _chosen_ to appear as a human female for some crazy reason that they hadn’t really gotten to hear, because the homeroom teacher had interrupted them. When the students asked around about the other sister, who seemed quite nice compared to her more _loud_ and scary sibling, the only info anyone could share was that she, at least, was actually female… and was apparently an amazing cook. (The students all moaned over the delicious food. Finally, actual FOOD at school!)

The main thing the kids talked about, though, was how these two aliens were _constantly_ sticking around that nerdy freak kid and his twin. And the rumors about _that_ ranged from how Stanford Pines had finally contacted space aliens and was now showing them around Earth, to Bill being here to subjugate humanity in preparation for their alien invasion (that being also Stanford Pines’ fault).

The adults in the school who were patrolling the cafeteria exchanged amused looks from time to time among them. They weren’t all that sure what was happening right now (although one or two of them thought that maybe a few of the kids had gotten a little too invested in one of the plotlines from Wagon Train to the Stars, of those who knew of the show), only that some prankster _must_ have decided that today was the day to have some real fun with the student's rumor mill…

Miz offered to take everyone’s trays to place in the drop-off area when they finished eating. As she carried the trays off, a tall teenage boy, slicked up hair, muscular arms, football team jersey, swaggered over to her. "Hey hot stuff, you really an alien?" He leaned against the wall, arm up as he not-quite boxed her in. (The guy, Thomas Dean, didn’t really believe the whole ‘alien’ thing, he thought it was just some kinda weird foreigner joke. He heard about the food thing but hadn’t seen it for himself and didn’t really believe the rumors on how it had happened, because aliens weren’t real.) His eyes trailed up her body, following the wide curves of her ass and hips up to her incredibly generous chest. Who cares if she was some weirdo ‘pretending’ to be an alien or whatever, she was HOT.

Miz blinked up at him. "Uh…" she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to pretend to be human or not. Well, she kinda already blew her cover, and she DID just structurally rearrange all the slop into actual food… so… "...Yes?" she responded (wanting to try socializing with other humans, that’s what this was all about right? She hadn’t really gotten to speak to any of her classmates thus far), tilting her head and straightening up, unknowingly thrusting her chest out some more as she leaned back a little to counterbalance the weight.

The guy grinned down at her. He blinked at the weird looking headband he could see peeking out between her bangs. "What’s this thing for?"

Miz blinked and reached a hand up to poke at the metal. "Oh, this seals off part of my powers..." Her eyes widened when she realized something. She’d dropped the magic cancelling bracelets on the ground back in the other dimension, outside of the barrier! Shit. Well… hopefully Shooting Star or Pine Tree found them.

The teenager snorted. "Right." Thomas grinned at her. Nerd alert. But she was still hot so he was gonna keep quiet about that. "So… why’re you hanging out with those two losers?" He tilted his head to indicate the Stans.

Miz blinked, frowning a little. "They’re not losers. They’re showing me and Bill around the school."

"Well if you need a guide, I can show you to all the coolest spots around school." Thomas grinned, leaning in. Miz frowned and took a step back, uncomfortable with how close this boy was being. Also, his thoughts were…

"Uh, sorry, I need to get back to my group. Class is starting soon…" She stepped away but he followed her. "U-um…"

And then a hand came down on one Thomas Dean's shoulder.

"Is there a PROBLEM here?" Bill popped up beside the boy, grinning with far too many teeth. Thomas jumped. When did she get here? He'd heard about how this chick had thrown Crampelter around like a ragdoll this morning. He wasn’t sure how accurate that was but Crampelter HAD been pretty beat up when he’d seen him last period.

And then the teenager twitched and had to stifle a yelp as the hand on his shoulder _tightened_ abruptly; he barely managed to stay upright at how very painful that grip on him was. The boy began to sweat. --Accurate. That thing about Crampelter was probably definitely accurate! _Shit!_

Not wanting to look like a pussy, Thomas attempted to grin at the crazy chick. She was utterly terrifying, but her sister was hot. If he wanted any chance to score with the younger sister, he’d need to play nice with the older one, too. "--No problem! Just offering to show your sister around the school!" He began to breathe slightly more normally as the grip let up just a tad. "You know, all the places where the cool kids hang out…" The grip tightened again even worse than before, and his words cut off in a strangled gurgle of breath.

"Little sis, back to the table now, please?" Bill said mildly. "After all, there is all that sexy-kissing that happens at ‘cool kids hang out places’, isn't there? And you don't like THAT at all."

Miz blinked. Then she made a face. "Ugh, human mouths are filled with bacteria. No thanks." She backed up, ducking under Thomas’s arm and made her way back to the Stans. She gave Bill a grateful look before turning around and running off.

Bill, for his part, leaned in with a bright grin and said, "Remember: no means no!" then let go of Thomas's shoulder and slapped it in the very same painful spot twice, _cheerfully_. Then Bill took one step back, rotated on his heel in place, and walked back to the table himself.

Miz was frowning, arms wrapped around herself. "Well, I guess I should have expected that when I designed this form…" She bit her lip, unsure how to feel. She… liked feeling sexy as a woman. She liked looking at herself and seeing a mature young woman and not the… child she had been. Never been flirted with before. Most people saw her as a child, even when they knew how old she was. They just weren’t into children, or people who looked as young as she did. Heck, the few times someone had complimented her appearance for being attractive had been a older man who’d stared at her while she was at work… which was kinda creepy.

"What, was that guy giving you guff?" Lee asked, looking up at her, frowning. He'd seen Bill get up and go over, but hadn't been able to hear the actual words being said. "I gotta have a conversation with the guy for ya?" Lee offered, giving the jerk a long glowering look. 'Cause yeah, Bill was handling stuff right then, sure, that was obvious, but Stan knew that sometimes guys only listened to other guys, and Bill looked like a girl and junk right now. If the guy ended up cornering Miz alone again, without the rest of them nearby...

...wow, wait. Did this mean he was part of a girl posse now? Like, how the cheerleaders all traveled together in groups? Lee stopped chewing for a second, because he wasn't so sure how he felt about that.

"I… maybe?" Miz frowned. She smiled at Lee, "Well, I guess I’ll just stay with you guys so that doesn’t happen."

Lee swallowed. "Uh… sure," said Lee. He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Just, uh, yell if you need anythin’?" Maaaaybe he should have a talk with some of the guys on the boxing and wrestling teams today. Y'know, so they could get the word out that Miz was all 'protected’ and stuff. ...By, uh, more than just him. So everybody would know not to mess with her. Wasn't like she didn't have people lookin’ out for her or nothin’.

Miz giggled, an admittedly cute sound. "Thanks Lee. You’re sweet." Lee blushed a little.

"Nah, sure. No big deal," he shrugged off. The bell rang and Miz looked up.

"It’s Gym next. Why do they make kids do physical activities right after eating?" Miz complained.

Lee and Sixer looked at each other, then Lee shrugged, not having an answer for that, other than… "We've got the geek rotation. Probably think we're gonna do bad anyway." Not everybody had gym right after lunch.

Bill came back over and their group left the cafeteria to start walking to the gymnasium -- and the locker rooms. Generally, the kids were supposed to go to the changing rooms and put on sweatpants or other kinds of clothes, so that their normal clothes didn’t get all sweaty afterward. The twins walked off towards the Boys’ changing room while Miz headed for the Girls’ room (as did Bill, understanding full well that the signs here-and-now referred to bio-sex, not actual gender or sexual orientation). Miz’s current vessel didn’t sweat, but she realized she should probably change into a t-shirt and sweatpants anyway. After all, the teacher might complain if she didn’t.

Miz found herself a shower stall (being a little shy about changing in front of everyone else for the first time, the stares she’d been getting out in the hallways had been bad enough!) and hummed to herself cheerfully as she began pulling off her sweater. She HAD taken a shower earlier before school but that had been mostly a quick magic-induced rinse. She didn’t want to be late for school and hadn’t quite explored her new body yet. She reached her hands back to unhook her bra, groaning in relief. She always hated wearing bras. Well, maybe she should just switch to wearing an elastic one instead of the wire one? All she needed was the light padding for modesty anyway? She massaged her chest, enjoying how nice they felt, but also groaning at how sore they were after only a few hours of, well, _existing_ as she’d been walking around.

She reached into her backpack and formed a sports bra, modified with a fiber she had found on Feisk’Ok that was capable of holding up several tons while still being soft and flexible. A little overkill, maybe, but dammit these things were heavy! She slipped the new bra on, sighing in relief -- it was much more comfortable and didn’t compress her chest as much. Well, her female friends had always complained about how much it sucked to have huge boobs, but Miz had always been curious. Miz glanced around as the sound levels abruptly began to drop off around her. She could hear the other girls rustling around in their own stalls (no doors, but there was a curtain to offer them some privacy), and... they were finishing up and getting to class without _her!_ \--Oh no! She was going to be _late_ if she didn’t hurry-hurry-hurry!

Miz slipped her pants down and quickly got changed into a large t-shirt and sweatpants. She packed her clothes back in her bag and left her shower stall to stick her bag into one of the lockers with a ‘bang’. There were no locks on them since these were just used for quickly storing their things while they were at gym, but Miz placed a locking spell on hers, just in case.

"Hey, new girl." Miz turned to see a few other girls who were finishing up at the same time as her -- the last of the bunch, together.

Miz smiled. "Hello! I’m Miz!" (She still wanted to try and make friends.) And they... smiled back(!!).

"Hi, I’m Allison. These are Trisha and Jane." The girl looked Miz up and down. Damn, the new girl really WAS as big as the rumors said. And she’d heard from Jane, who’d heard from Angela that Thomas had been putting the moves on her during lunch! Lucky bitch. "So, what’s that alien thing all about?" Allison asked, not liking the competition for the boy she liked, but still being kinda curious about THAT particular (nerdy) rumor.

Miz blinked before shrugging. "It’s not really all that important." Allison and her group of girls raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off. (After all, boys and their dumb rumors…) Miz was glancing at the door. She didn’t like being late for class.

"Bill? Are you ready?" Miz called out, not actually knowing where he was.

"Yes!" Bill grinned as he stepped out into view before she had to Look for him, away from the wall of the corridor into the locker room. (And Miz saw that Bill… had not changed his clothing at all. Miz sighed. ...Well, his clothes were already just loose and baggy stuff, so it wasn’t too bad, she guessed. They almost looked like gym clothes already.)

The girls around her blinked, looking a little shocked at Bill’s seemingly sudden appearance out of nowhere. And, during their confusion, Miz left the girls’ locker room with Bill and met up with the twins outside. They looked a little… worried. Miz blinked. "Are you two okay?" Sixer seemed a little pale and Lee looked disgruntled.

Lee gave her a reassuring smile. "Yeah, fine." He didn’t mention the way the other boys had confronted them, asking all sorts of questions about their new friends. The most they could really say was that they were charged with showing the girls around the school -- not without giving away the whole 'alien demon’ thing. (Which Sixer had almost done anyway, if not for Lee elbowing him in the ribs, hard. Lee was still glaring at him over that one a little…)

"It’s been eons since I’ve been in a human school, what do you do during gym again?" Miz asked, walking with her brother and the boys into the gymnasium.

Sixer groaned as he said, "Strenuous physical activity."

Lee laughed at (what he felt was) his twin’s (for the most part exaggerated) ‘pain’ -- which was, really, more about the ‘A’ Sixer _wasn’t_ getting in gym class, than anything else. "Well, we play kickball sometimes. Mostly we just run laps or do stretches."

Miz blinked. "Is that it? Huh… could have sworn there was more to it than that…" (Weren’t there supposed to be more things, like Yoga? Golf? Weight-lifting?)

"Not really," Lee shrugged, "It’s mostly just sports stuff with balls," and Miz sighed.

"So it’s gonna be boring then…" she muttered unhappily (which got her a quick flick of a side-eyed look from Bill…). "But at least that means there’s no golf." Ugh, standing out under direct sunlight surrounded by grass that itched and stupid balls that were dirty and she was supposed to touch them with her hands and having to hold the stick in the exact way that the teacher said, and swing in the exact way that the teacher said...

"...Golf?" Sixer asked in confusion, adjusting his glasses as he stared at her. "Did you mean… mini golf?"

Miz shook her head. "I went to a human school once, a long time ago. We had golf. I hated it. We had to go out to the hills and fields behind the school and there was grass and dirt everywhere!"

Lee and Sixer exchanged a look. Sixer adjusted his glasses again, and then said as consolingly as he could, while patting her on the shoulder, "Well, we don’t have that here?" This part of Jersey was mostly concrete and glass shards, even away from the beach.

Miz grinned. "Mini golf would have been fun, at least it’s colorful. But regular golf is just ‘hold the stick like this’ and ‘no, your posture is wrong’ and ‘I know it hurts because the stick isn’t the right size for you but you still need to hold it the way everyone else does~’ and I hated that."

Sixer winced sympathetically. (He, after all, was used to that with things like scissors and other tools in shop class, and that had been a fight-and-a-half with the teachers, even with the biology and physics teachers on his side and backing him up about how he _hadn’t_ been holding or carrying things ‘unsafely’ or ‘the wrong way’, he just had more fingers than most people and thus, _had_ to grip and hold things differently!) But Lee just frowned a little, thinking that it sounded a lot like some of his boxing lessons had before he’d grown up to be a bit bigger and… oh. Uh… right. Miz had that growing-up problem outside that her brother had needed to help her with, right? Maybe they hadn’t let her grow herself up before, if she didn’t know how.

They entered the large room, where some other kids were already milling around. As Lee said, they were told to run some laps. This immediately posed a problem.

"Eep!" Miz squeaked as her chest bounced at every. _Single. STEP._ \--And it only got worse, the longer she jogged! She wrapped her arms around her front, to try to hold them in place so they didn’t hurt on the down-bounce, or make her topple over (-- _or_ hit her in the _chin_ , with the way she kept ducking her head down in sheer embarrassment). A lot of the other kids were staring. Lee was trying to hold back laughter. Miz blushed as she ran.

\--Okay. Right. Big boobs were actually quite difficult to have! Her alien fabric (wasn’t quite a sports bra, more of an all purpose comfort and support garment) worked to hold it, but it was still stretchy enough to allow for bouncing. Miz was keeping these boobs due to sheer stubbornness at this point. Besides, she was only going to be in school for a week, right? She could get rid of them after that!

Miz ran her laps while hugging her chest, face red and unable to look at anyone in her embarrassment. Bill was holding back laughter, but not a grin -- an ‘I told you so’ expression on his face. Because THIS is why oversized parts were _annoying!_ HA! (...Really, Bill didn’t know why Miz was being so stubborn. He’d already set everything up for her if she wanted to change things up on the rest of the humans there -- after all, they were ALIENS! They could do WHATEVER THEY WANTED, even change their bodies’ BIO-SEX! So she could do what she wanted, as long as she didn’t mind everyone human thinking she was weird. Right? --And what was wrong with being known to be weird? NOTHING AT ALL, THAT’S WHAT! HAHA!)

As they all finished their last lap, and jogged to a halt, Lee finally let out a snort, unable to keep the mirth off his face. "...Well, having fun?" he laughed out, which left Miz pouting.

"Shush. I’m new to all this okay?!" Miz huffed out, stomping her foot. It was adorable. Lee laughed outright. This demon dragon lady was hilarious. "Being a sexy girl’s difficult, huh?" Lee asked her, grinning. (He was pretty sure that her demon-brother really had called it at this point. --Hey, she'd been warned! _And_ she could get her brother to help her change it back later. That made laughing over it fair game!)

Miz nodded. "But… I just want to look pretty… that’s not bad right?" she asked. She’d never been a busty bombshell before, it was (still) kind of exciting to try it out, despite the problems. _(She’d spent all of high school being teased for being small (in both her height and her chest size), heck, she’d spent all her life being teased for being small…)_

Lee blinked at her and gave her a look, then just shrugged. "As long as you’re happy with how you look…"

"--And jog!" was Bill's called-out contribution to the discussion of chest size, which had Miz groaning all over again.

Lee rolled his eyes at Bill's addition. "--Then who _cares_ what anyone else thinks," Lee told her. Miz knew he was right, but she'd had to deal with eons of people hating her for just being a triangle, so… it was a little hard to just say ‘I’m happy with who I am and screw anyone else’...

...especially when everyone else ACTED on it by throwing rocks at her, or _shooting_ her, or using **BINDING CIRCLES** on her...

...and especially when making herself look like attractive and/or cute beings (or hell, practically ANYONE else!) had gotten her love, fame, and worship from those _exact_ same people who had shunned her in her ‘true’ form…

Miz let out a long (and somewhat nervous) sigh as she looked around at everyone else in the gym. (Because what would they all think of her instead, if she just…)

She glanced at Lee. ( _He'd_ never seen what she looked like yet, either. And he looked kind of aesthetically pleasing himself. So what did HE know about…)

Miz pouted and looked away (while Lee blinked at her for going all quiet on him -- he'd expected her to agree with him). Sixer was also frowning a little at his brother, absently rubbing his hands. Sixer recognized Miz’s expression; he saw it in the mirror every day -- he knew that feeling well. He didn't know _why_ she seemed to be feeling the same way just then, but… Sixer looked away.

After everyone else had finished the warm up laps, it was time for stretches. Miz had fun with that, groaning in content as she arched her back and felt her spine pop. Ahhh, that felt so much _better!_ She noticed all the stares and felt both a little embarrassed and also a little smug. --She was sexy and people appreciated looking at her.

Miz wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that, though. She… liked being ‘attractive’… but was it bad to like having people look at her? The duality of her feelings, both _wanting_ to be admired for how she looked and also wanting to hide her body in _embarrassment_ at the same time, made Miz frown.

She followed along with the stretches the class was doing as she thought about it, trying to understand herself and _why_ she felt that way. She liked... the admiring looks, because... it meant people liked her, but... they… didn’t really like HER, just her outer-shelled appearance. Just like always. --But any sort of positive attention was better than disgust and fear! Right?

...But _this_ sort of positive attention made her feel a little... uncomfortable. --She got stares like this when she was Jan as well, but _he_ had bodyguards to keep the rabid fans away! So she felt safe enough looking like that then, because her bodyguards wouldn't let any of them... get close enough to touch her. But _now_ …

Miz glanced over at her brother. ...Well, actually, she had a bodyguard here, too. So… it was fine, right?

(Miz was glad her headband was on though; she was pretty sure the Lust in the air would have been gross to taste. The thoughts she was picking up on and off were bad enough...)

The teacher, a tall older woman, blew her whistle. "Ok, split into teams of five and grab a kickball!"

Lee rolled his eyes. "Yup. Kickball again," he said, as the other kids moved off to form groups.

He, Sixer, and Bill stayed by Miz, but that was only four. The teacher had said she'd wanted teams of five. Miz looked around and saw a thin boy standing by himself. She strode over cheerfully. "Hi! Do you need a group?"

The boy, a quick scan showed his name was Ben White, jumped at being addressed. "A-ah…" He stuttered, having been hoping to hide off on the sidelines and get ignored like he usually was.

"Come on, we still need one member," Miz said with a gentle smile, as she took his hand and pulled him back over to where the Stans and Bill were. Ben was staring in petrified shock at this pretty girl talking to him AND holding his hand. (Lee snorted at the look on that kid’s face. Miz _really_ didn’t understand what she was doing to the other boys around her, did she?)

(Bill hadn't really participated in the activities so far -- except for the first lap or two of the jogging, he’d largely done his own thing, including his own different and abbreviated stretching routine off to the side shortly after he'd seemingly decided he was finished jogging. It wasn't really an issue, since some other kids didn't bother either, and the teacher hadn't cared enough to make them. --Oddly, the triangle demon didn't seem BORED with the class itself, just… largely disinterested in the specifics of _how_ things were being done by the rest of them all, and when; he did seem to be taking things seriously, just in his own way.)

Miz came up to the rest of her little high school posse, new boy student in tow, and grinned. "This is Ben, is it ok with you guys if he's part of our group?" Ben blinked, how did the girl know his name?!

"Will he help us destroy the other teams?" Bill asked Miz, his hands on his hips.

Lee, Sixer, and Miz (and the 'new’ teen) all stared at him.

"--At kickball. By _winning all the kickball games_ ," Bill elaborated, rolling his eyes at the uncertain looks he was getting from the younger Pines twins.

(Lee and Sixer exchanged a look. ...Yeahhhhh, that was **not** makin’ Lee feel any better about what he was sure was gonna be the upcoming slaughter.) 

Bill turned towards the teenager who Miz had gravitated to and subsequently retrieved for them for some reason he had yet to ascertain. "-- _What are you good at?_ " Bill demanded out of him, leaning forward and getting up in his face to scrutinize him carefully.

"V-violin?" Ben stuttered out, and Bill narrowed his eyes at him slightly.

"HM," said Bill. Bill leaned back away from him again, more normally and usually upright. At this, Ben started to let out a sigh of relief -- he wasn't about to get killed by the crazy girl!

And then Bill pulled his hat off of his head, stuck his hand in, pulled out a violin and bow, and shoved it into Ben's chest, with a: "--Here."

Ben, blinking, barely caught it, to cradle it against his chest.

"...What?" Ben asked. Bill shoved his hat back on top of his head (...wait. Where had _that_ … And was it _floating?_... Ben stared) and Bill said, authoritatively, "Hold that in front of you."

Ben stared down at the violin he was clutching, and then looked up at around at the rest of them, with very much of a '...Help me?’ look on his face. (He looked a little too scared to speak up to the scary girl, asking her anything outright himself. He was already very intimidated by Miz -- though in a somewhat different way. And with Bill being _Bill_ on top of that...)

"Uh, Bill?" Sixer asked for Ben, who was standing there, holding the violin he'd just been given, looking very lost and confused. "You just handed him a violin."

"Yes," said Bill, as he completed a few more arm stretches. "What's your point?"

"...This is kickball," Sixer added, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes," said Bill, turning towards him. "What's your point?"

Sixer and Lee exchanged a glance. Lee shrugged. "We’re not supposed to have violins in kickball?" Sixer tried next.

"Why not?" said Bill, putting his hands on his hips. "Is there a RULE that says ‘no holding violins!’ in kickball?"

Sixer and Lee exchanged another glance. "...No?" said Sixer. That got them both a large grin from Bill, as he said:

"EXACTLY!"

The twins exchanged another look, and Lee gave another shrug, as Bill reached down and scooped up the ball that had just been rolled to them for the game.

Bill wasted no time in pivoting on one heel, turning 180 degrees right back towards them… and suddenly screaming out " _\--DIE!!!_ " as he flung the kickball right at Ben's head, hard.

Ben squeaked in fear and ducked, holding the violin out in front of him reflexively. Everyone else in the gymnasium (who’d been watching the new girls with wary curiosity) gasped, sure that he was going to be killed!

But the ball hit the violin and bounced off, shooting up towards the rafters where it got lodged between a few beams. Ben wobbled and fell to his knees, holding the _still intact and unharmed_ violin. "I-I’m… alive?!" Ben’s voice cracked, thin arms trembling.

Miz glared at Bill. "That was mean," she told her brother. She had barely managed to reinforce the violin in time. She was actually impressed that Ben had managed to redirect the ball upwards and away from himself (instinctually), and didn’t even get hurt. Huh… looks like this kid might actually have a skill for this, if he was given the chance to learn.

Bill squinted. He'd expected the kid to react that way to shield himself, but… "Was expecting that instrument to break… --You did something?" Bill asked Miz, turning to her as he gave out a huff of breath. Oh. Oh, she HAD! "MIZ! How is he going to learn to dodge out of the way if the violin doesn't break and he doesn't want it to break?"

Miz placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Bill. "He learned to block. This is kickball, not dodgeball! He doesn’t need to dodge, he’s supposed to redirect! Which he DID!"

"HM," said Bill. He considered this.

Meanwhile, Miz strode over to Ben and kneeled down to address him. "--You okay? Sorry about Bill, he’s very spontaneous." She patted his back, trying to comfort the poor, terrified boy.

Bill frowned as he Looked over some of his previously-Seen memories, and did a bit of a more-extensive search this time, for the actual rules of the game. --He'd rather thought avoiding the worst balls was also part of kickball from the kickball matches he’d actually Seen, but… he also realized that Miz had a point. The rules for kickball themselves were not SUPPOSED to include killballs like dodgeball! Even if most actual plays using the balls seemed to mix the rules in kickball practice… when teachers were preoccupied or otherwise physically absent... HMMMMMMM...

"...Fine," Bill concluded after he considered his reassessment full and complete. Because Miz had had a point, and they _were_ trying to follow the established rules of the game somewhat, after all.

"--Acceptable performance at kickball practice!" Bill called out to Ben next, with a grin. "Good job! --Pat him on the head, Miz!"

Miz patted Ben’s head, stroking her fingers through his hair like he was a small puppy. "Good boy," she said cheerfully.

Ben nodded, whimpering slightly and feeling very, very confused by this point. "T-thank you?" he stammered.

Miz cooed. "Aw~ he’s like a small animal~ so cute~"

Bill heard THAT, and he scoffed. "Are you getting squirmy feelings again?" he called out. "You better NOT be getting squirmy feelings again!"

Miz rolled her eyes. "I don’t get them for _everyone_! I actually DO have standards!"

"...Right. But how does that Stanford rate at or above _your_ standards?" Bill said, walking over a bit closer. Then Bill looked down at her suspiciously. "Do you have… LOW standards?"

"Look, he’s hot. Even the baby version of him is cute, though not quite on the same level yet," Miz said while pointing at Sixer, who blushed heavily.

Bill stared. "What about that Stanford is attractive?!"

Miz shrugged. "The shy expression, the way his glasses sit on his face, the air of ‘I’m a socially awkward nerd’ that just makes you want to go up and protect him from any bullies who’d want to punch his face in…"

Bill stared at her. "Visual things. Right." He let out a breath and closed his eyes. _Clearly_ she was not looking for deeper mental parameters there. 650 billion years old. ...He hadn't been like that then, though. It HAD to be a human thing. "Glad I was never human!" Bill said enthusiastically, turning away from her, to perform a few arm and leg stretches, to continue his work at properly 'warming up’ his various muscle groupings.

"I don’t really know them well enough on a personal level to know if they’re attractive on an emotional level yet." Miz shrugged. "So I’m just making do with looking at them right now." She grumbled. "That Stanford is too close-minded for me to actually like him in the long term anyway."

"But he still makes you _feel_ squirmy! LOW standards on visuals, NO standards on mental characteristics!" Bill pointed out, straightening up again as he finished his final stretches.

"I DO so have standards on mental characteristics. I just don’t know any of these people well enough to know." Miz pouted. She wasn’t THAT shallow.

"Then he shouldn't make you feel squirmy," Bill told her. "Not if you don't know if he's meeting a standard yet. --You don't get squirmy about humans you haven't seen yet, have you?" he asked of her. "It's the same thing."

"I’ve gotten squirmy off pictures of people before. And characters in books and tv shows, who don’t actually exist." Miz played with the end of a lock of hair. She had her husbando and waifu shrines back in her room in the Death Star, hidden behind a secret door. She’d die of embarrassment if any of her Friends found them...

"That’s seen-visual," Bill told her, trying to figure this out for her. (As far as he was concerned, this ‘thinking Stanfords were attractive’ thing was a real problem that she CLEARLY needed help with, AGAIN and STILL.) "Do you get that squirmy feeling hearing about someone, without the images?"

"...If they have a really sexy voice…" Miz blushed, thinking about a certain [radio show host](http://podbay.fm/show/536258179) or [YouTube horror analyst](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC58IKuPHnZkdCZ6T5mSRGCg). AH, that Tad Strange guy has the same voice as Cecil, right? Ooh… Miz wanted to meet him just so she could give him a list of things to say with that voice of his… wow, she was weird. She sputtered. "L-look, it’s not like I’m expecting to like them as a partner. I’m just enjoying _looking_ at them! Like how I would enjoy looking at a pretty landscape. Though I guess I don’t get squirmy about landscapes…" She placed a hand on her hip as she thought about it. Then, to stop this from being all about her (and turn the tables somewhat), she asked Bill, "What do YOU look for in terms of your standards?"

Sixer somehow had a notebook out (hey, their sweatpants didn’t have pockets!) and was eagerly awaiting Bill’s response. Lee sent Sixer a look like he thought his twin was crazy.

"Linear, intelligent, likes me, talks with me, wants to help me, lets me help them, thinks well of my brother," Bill said promptly with a shrug, then blinked and added, "Thinks well of you as my sister." He frowned slightly. "They have to be able to hold an intelligent conversation with me," Bill elaborated. "But it's not a squirmy feeling." (As far as Bill was aware of, at least, shapes and lines from his dimension didn't GET squirmy feelings. It wasn’t like geometry had any internal organs to squirm about internally to generate those sorts of ‘feelings’! And of the shapes and lines Bill had known, if they _had_ ever felt that way about anything, ‘partner’ or ‘landscape’ or otherwise, they’d certainly never talked about it with him.) Bill shrugged. "It's simple compatibility."

Miz nodded. "Well, in terms of someone that I’d actually LIKE, in terms of compatibility, instead of squirmy-ness, I like someone who’s fun to talk to, passionate about what they care about, willing to accept me for who and what I am and willing to talk and listen to me… indulge me in my hobbies." Miz giggled. "And thinks well of my brothers and sisters too." She paused. "Willing to accept my brothers and sisters for who and what they are too." She added.

Lee blinked. Those were… pretty normal standards, actually. A decent person who they could talk to, who cared about them and their family… that’s all they really wanted. That was _it_?

"Those are decent standards." Bill thought about it. "Well, that Stanford isn’t going to ever do any of those things for you; he’s incapable," Bill said, nodding sagely, making Sixer frown in confusion at just what the heck his older self must have done to so horribly ruin his (chances and) reputation with the demon. "So you need to stop feeling squirmy about him."

Miz sighed. "I know. He's too set in his ways." She turned to Sixer. "Please don't grow up to be like him. He's the type who judges people based on what they are. And doesn't bother to want to know who they are. I played a prank on him _once_ and he took that to mean I eat people **all** the time -- which I don't do, only under very specific circumstances and not that often," she explained quickly. Lee and Ben shuddered (with Ben being confused about what she was talking about, but no less disturbed) while Sixer looked confused.

"Wait, what?" Sixer asked, still writing in his notebook. "When do you eat people sometimes?" he asked, and Miz sighed and explained:

"So my friend Seb didn't want his vessel anymore and discarded it, kinda like shedding your skin, but not at all like that, and I figured I didn't want to waste a perfectly good meat sack so I roasted and ate the empty vessel. But Ford thought I just devoured my friend and refused to listen even when Stan explained that Seb was fine." Miz rolled her eyes. Ben was very confused by this point while Sixer just wrote this all down while muttering: "... _Fascinating_."

"Hey, uh, can we get back to kick ball?" Lee asked, very much wanting to leave this topic of conversation.

Miz blinked and shrugged. "Okay," she said simply before looking up and making a grasping, pulling gesture with her hand. The kickball dislodged from the rafters and fell back down, Miz caught the rubber object deftly. She turned towards Ben, sweet smile in place. "Ok, let's try kicking it this time?" She suggested before bending down to place the ball on the ground and then kicking it lightly towards the boy clutching the violin like a lifeline.

To Ben's relief, Miz's kick was at a speed he could match and he moved his foot to kick the ball back to her. Miz caught it with a foot and kicked it towards Sixer. The teen almost missed it, managing to hit it with the side of his foot and making the ball roll off and away from any of them.

Bill turned to stare at Sixer, then pointed a finger at him. "Unacceptable performance at kickball practice!" Bill declared. "--Miz, PENALIZE HIM!" Lee went cold and tried to get to his brother before the demon did anything awful to him--

\--and Miz stepped up to Lee’s twin and ruffled Sixer's hair, mussing it up. "Try harder next time, okay?" she admonished gently.

Sixer blushed. Miz had to stand up on her toes to reach his head and was all but leaning her chest against him.

(And Lee heaved a sigh of relief.)

Once Miz (and Bill, with an "Acceptable time of penalty!! More kickball NOW!") decided Sixer had been properly scolded, she pointed her hand at the kickball resting a few meters away and made a ‘come hither’ gesture. The ball rolled back towards her. She caught it with her foot and kicked it gently to get some distance between her and Sixer. "Let's try that again." Everyone in class was staring at them by this point, because... Had that alien girl just moved the ball without touching it?! TWICE?!

Miz sent the kickball at Sixer again and though this time he managed to kick it back, he didn't really pass it to her and she had to run a few steps to the left to catch it. Still, a pass was a pass! Miz kicked the ball towards Lee this time and the teenager kicked it back to her easily. Then Miz kicked it towards Bill...

...who once more kicked it with incredible speed towards Ben's face. The boy squeaked again but, once more, managed to bring the violin up to block. This time the ball was sent ricocheting off to hit the bleachers.

"Good job!" Bill yelled back with another grin. "Miz! Pat him on the head again!" Bill added, before running off to retrieve the ball.

Miz blinked. That kid had REALLY good reflexes and reaction time. She grinned and strode up to him. Good blocking too. If he learned how to do this on purpose and not just instinctually...

"Hey, you ever considered boxing or baseball?" Miz asked him with a wide grin as she patted his head again. Ben looked confused. Miz assured him, "You won't have to stop playing the violin. You're actually pretty good, but I think you'd make a pretty good batter if you learned how. Or tennis! Or bare handed arrow deflection!" Ben continued to stare at her with confusion. Miz pouted. "It's fine, kid. I was kinda joking with that last one. But tennis or badminton might work better for you, or ping pong, your arms are kinda weak. But you can work on that!" She patted his head cheerfully. "I'm sure one of those sports I've listed could be something you can try out and excel at!"

Ben sent another ‘Help me!’ look towards the twins. Lee shrugged. Sixer ran after Bill, to help him retrieve the ball. Everyone else was staring at their group. The teacher (who'd left the room for a few minutes to get the goal nets and had missed all of this) came back in dragging the equipment behind her.. "Alright, practice is over, it's time to start the matches," the teacher called out to them all, as she started shoving the goal nets into place.

Bill let out a loud "HAH!" as he jogged back after retrieving the ball (with Sixer trailing behind him), and turned to grin at the other teams. "We're going to DESTROY you! --At kickball," Bill added quickly, he wasn’t starting a physical fight after all. "This is a challenge-that-is-not-called-a-challenge that you can say no to!" Then Bill paused and turned to Lee. "This _IS_ a challenge-that-is-not-called-a-challenge that they can say no to, yes?" Bill asked him, and Lee nodded, somewhat aware that this challenge, although not a fight, was probably going to end up with more injuries. Just in case though…

"In kickball, you're not supposed to injure your own team." Lee figured he might as well put that out there, so Sixer and Ben didn't get hurt by Bill's playstyle.

Bill blinked. "HA! Of course not! That was practice. --If my own team is injured by me when trying to help me win, how is that winning?"

Lee groaned. How the heck did the older versions of them deal with this one? At least Miz was less… loud? "Well, can we also not injure the other team?" Lee tried. When Bill seemed about to protest, Miz piped in with, "It'll be more challenging to win with no injuries on any side."

"If they decide they want to be injured, I will not stop them," Bill said as something of a compromise. It wasn't as though he'd let them 'hold him hostage' by threatening to injure themselves if they did not win, by deciding to agree that some-injuries would constitute a loss. The point of the game was not to injure or kill, so he would not specifically go out of his way to do that -- it would be an attack if he did; simple.

A girl from another team stated loudly, "We would like to not be injured, please?" She and her group grimaced, not wanting to go up against Bill. But to this, Miz just shrugged and said, "Then dodge or block."

The other kids didn't look all that happy about this advice.

"HAHA!" said Bill. "You don't HAVE to challenge us with a challenge-that-is-not-called-a-challenge," Bill put out there. "You COULD just not-challenge," Bill told them, "Or FORFEIT and take the LOSS!" he added with a grin. Bill was fine with not being challenged; he liked it better that way. Fear and respect were making his life easier, again!

The other kids all looked at each other and one of them spoke up: "We forfeit." They all nodded, every last one of them, not wanting to test this.

"HAHA!" Bill said, then grinned at them, as he accepted their forfeit with a, " _GOOD_." Bill turned away from them. "Miz! Sixer! Lee! Ben! MORE PRACTICE!" he called out, tossing the ball he'd retrieved over to Miz in an underhand motion.

Miz caught the ball and cheered "Yay! We win!"

The teacher looked around in confusion as she finished up with the nets, and heard the tail-end of this ‘discussion’ -- the last net being set up being the Pines and Cipher’s (and Ben’s) own. "But… the games?" She looked around but the kids seemed far more willing to do regular practice.

Bill looked over at her and grinned. "We won all the games!" Then he dropped the grin. "Are you going to MAKE them play one game when they want to play another?" he asked her very seriously, staring the teacher down. "The ‘want’ of gym class is ‘strenuous physical activity’," Bill added. "That is happening this way still. Yes?" Bill added, taking a page from Stanley's book -- offering an alternate solution to the problem of a particular want.

The PE teacher looked confused. 

"It could be practice until everyone is better at the game," Bill told her, trying to offer more information to someone who he recognized was confused. "And then everyone will enjoy the game more, once they are ready to play it well!" he enthused with a smile, nodding at her.

The teacher nodded slowly. "Well, if everyone wants to practice and not play a game I guess it shouldn't be a problem." She shrugged. "Have fun then." She didn't particularly care, her job was just to keep the kids occupied for a period. (As far as she was concerned, she didn’t get paid enough to care. And more of them seemed to be actually doing something physically active this period for a lot longer than usual, instead of trying to get away with standing at the sidelines the entire time.)

All the kids heaved a sigh of relief at the teacher’s reprieval, because at least they wouldn't have to deal with that crazy alien chick now. But they all started passing the balls amongst themselves, afraid that the crazy girl would try to include them if they didn’t seem busy. They had seen how the Asian-looking girl had dragged Ben over to join their group earlier because he’d been standing alone, doing nothing.

Bill grinned, then turned back to the others on his team. "--More practice!" he called out, then pointed at Miz. "Miz, kick the kickball to one of us!" Miz grinned and kicked it to Lee, who passed it to Sixer.

"Well, hopefully, we'll have a quiet period for once." Lee mumbled under his breath.

Sixer fumbled the ball but managed to send it vaguely in Miz's direction. Miz sent it towards Bill (which made everyone's hearts drop) and Bill had a wicked smirk on his face as he reared back his leg.

This time, he kicked it to _Lee_ \-- just as hard as he'd kicked it to Ben the last time.

\--And Lee brought up his hands in a boxer's block and _smacked_ it away, not even joking around. He wasn’t getting himself **murdered** by some stupid kickball kick!

Miz cheered. "Nice hit!"

Bill looked surprised, then even more surprised as what had just happened really registered.

...And then Lee realized that he'd never _actually_ seen Bill grin before, because the grin that spread across Bill’s whole face _now_ looked absolutely _ECSTATIC_. (Seriously, Bill looked downright insane with glee.)

"YES-YES-YES!!!" Bill jumped up and down almost, hands up in the air but sort of bobbing in place, and he let out a chittering sound that morphed into a full-throated "HAHAHA!" of laughter, before he ran off after the ball again.

"Again-again-again, should do that _again_ \--" Lee heard Bill saying aloud (to himself) as he _ran_ past him to retrieve the ball himself this time, not waiting for Miz to gesture at it, clearly wanting to get it back for _himself_ even faster.

Lee looked over at Sixer for help, a little in shock at all this. But all his brother did was look at him, adjust his glasses, and tell him good-naturedly, with a smile on his face, "Well, you're doomed."

Lee sent his brother a dirty look.

And for the rest of gym class, Bill cackled as he kicked the ball at Lee again and again and again (and retrieved it again and again and again) from all angles. Lee twisted and planted himself solidly on the ground, punching away the ball every time it was sent his way (sometimes with not a lot of a breather, since sometimes Bill kicked it at him from clear across the gymnasium, and other times tried to sneak up on him using the other students as barriers, blocks, and shields).

While all this was going on, Miz had stolen a ball from another team and was using it to have a gentle passing practice between her, Ben, and Sixer. She was sending a few high balls at Ben so he would use the violin to knock them away, having fun with seeing how the kid reacted to the shots. "Really, your hand eye coordination actually isn't bad. Have you considered trying something with it?

"N-not really?" Ben squeaked out, deflecting another shot at his face. Miz didn't kick as hard as Bill did but they were still pretty fast. (Bill let out another cackling laugh in the background, that had Ben flinching in reflex.)

Miz grinned. "Just a suggestion. Take it or leave it, that's your choice."

Sixer ended up largely forgotten as he stood off to the side and wrote his notes while observing the two demons. "Enjoys… nurturing skills?" he mumbled out as he wrote it down.

Some of the braver kids walked over to Miz. "So… um… is there a reason you always aim at his face?"

Miz considered it.

Then Miz addressed Ben directly. "Can you hold the violin like a baseball bat and I can kick it NOT at your face?"

Ben let out a sigh of relief.

And a few minutes later, some of the other kids decided they wanted to join in with Miz's practice group (and shortly thereafter tentatively decided amongst themselves that the younger sister was definitely the nicer of the two).

Lee breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rang. He was straight-up sweating from this rather intense workout, but despite the way his arms trembled… he found himself grinning. Especially when Bill laughed in delight and told him: "GOOD! Very good!"

It… felt nice to get praise. Even if it was from a crazy demon.

Lee was definitely going to need that shower though.

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: .....They're in high school now. Bill Cipher(s) in human high school. It's happened. The high school AU that no one asked for.
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  *g*
> 
> I was planning this for a really long time, actually -- pretty much since I first asked Mizuuma if she wanted her Bill to get involved in the kids' mess. I could've written that happening _after_ MizBill left… but I didn't wait for it, 'cause she said yes! All I warned her about was that it'd almost certainly end up making this crossover arc last a heck of a lot longer, _for reasons_ … *eg*
> 
> She was game, and I be so evil :D
> 
> (FYI, drama's not over yet, kiddos. Not by a longshot. --Wait for it… ;)


	14. Chapter 83: I'm gonna drink it like a person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> In which the demons unintentionally blow their teacher's minds by inspiring them a little TOO much...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 94 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/45077923). It was first posted on May 27, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\----

When Lee came out of changing room, mostly dry, but hair still wet (but clean!), and grimacing at the way his clothes were getting soaked down the back, he found Sixer, Miz, and Bill waiting for him. Miz was chatting with a few of the other girls. (Even Ben was there, still clutching the violin like a shield between himself and Bill.) But when Miz noticed him, she grinned and bounced her way over (in multiple ways) to poke Lee in the nose. "Dry off~" she sang.

Lee shivered as he felt a warmth overtake him as the water evaporated off. "About time! Come on! We've got math next," Miz said, still grinning, before taking his hand and pulling him forwards. Miz waved at the other kids as they went. "Bye Ben, bye Allison, Jane, Trisha!" she called out. (She only remembered their names via cheating and scanning them. --What? These were a lot of names to remember!) As she passed Sixer along the way, Lee already in tow, she took his hand as well.

"Come on! We're gonna be late for Algebra!" Miz whined as she pulled the twins along behind her. Sixer was staring at Miz, bright red as she did this. (She was _holding his hand_. She was--)

Bill walked along with them, a bit more sedately. "Why the rush, sis?"

Miz pouted. "I don't like being late for stuff." Punctuality was important. "Besides, I wanna get a good seat!" Miz added. They got to the classroom right as the bell rang.

Miz raised her hands (along with Sixer and Lee's) into the air and cheered. "Woo! We're not late!"

The teacher, a thin old man with a deep set scowl, glared at her as she came in. "Yer not in your seats with your notes open. You're still late." He knew these were the new girls; troublemakers, from what he'd heard. And Gregory Carrow did NOT like troublemakers. His scowl got deeper at the sight of the new girl's body. How obscene and shameless. How vulgar. (Even though Miz was dressed relatively modestly, only exposing her neck, Mr. Carrow took one look at her body shape and declared her a harlot in his mind.)

"Sorry sir. We just came from gym and the showers and--" Miz tried to explain but Mr. Carrow cut her off.

"Sit down. You're disrupting class." His tone was stern and angry.

Miz flinched back, dropping the twin's hands and quickly slipping into a free desk in the front row. "Sorry, sir," she repeated sadly. Lee and Sixer sat down as well.

Mr. Carrow glared at Bill when he didn't sit down. Bill narrowed his eyes at the teacher right back, because Miz was upset, and it had happened after that teacher had talked to her. Was what the teacher had said been what had upset Miz? (Miz was wrong; they _had_ been late; they hadn’t sat down yet, yes; this was a fact.) Had upsetting Miz been intentional? (...She’d wanted to not be late, and she’d been very happy when she’d thought she was on time. Was being told they were disrupting class upsetting? Or was Miz upset about being wrong about being late? Or... was it SOMETHING ELSE?)

Miz scanned around the room and brightened a little when she found Mary from homeroom. (Miz had trouble recognizing people so she always cheated with her powers to remember who was who.) Miz gave the other girl a shy wave from under her desk.

Mary raised an eyebrow at Miz’s wave ‘hello’, but she still smiled and waved back. She'd been hearing all sorts of interesting rumors about the new girls. Kinda wanted to talk to them more.

Mary had another class with the twins for the last period today, and it seemed like the girls had the same schedule as them. Mary was curious about how much truth was in any of the whispered stories being passed around the school. She didn't believe in aliens or anything like that but even if the new girls were just lying to get attention, it was interesting. Anything was better than the monotonous bore of daily school drudgery. She would try to talk to them next, next period. Sadly, Mr. Carrow wasn't the type who allowed chatting in class.

Miz looked around the classroom and hid a grin when she spotted her own target, Carla McCorkle. Catching her eyes briefly during her scan of the room, Miz gave Carla a sweet smile before turning back to the front of the class, leaning slightly to her right to press up against Sixer's side. As she was doing this, Mr. Carrow was still glaring at Bill (and Bill was still narrowing his eyes at the teacher).

"Sit down, girl!" the old man snapped. Bill straightened and put his hands on his hips, opening his mouth to say that he wasn’t a girl--

... and was interrupted by Crampelter stumbling into the classroom. The blond was looking a little weary (and still more than a little worse for wear) until he spotted Bill. Then his eyes widened in fear and he turned on his heel to leave the classroom. Unfortunately for him, before he could do so, Bill's hand snapped out like a striking snake to grab up the taller boy's sleeve (and wrist) in a movement frighteningly similar to a steel trap slamming shut.

"YOU. You're not trying to _SKIP CLASS_ now, ARE YOU?" Bill intoned with a glint in his eyes, as Crampelter tried (and failed) to twist away and out of the demon's grip. Bill grinned and pulled the struggling teenager back into the classroom, shoving Crampelter down onto the chair behind an empty desk in the front row two desks down from Miz, then slapping Crampelter downwards on top of his shoulders twice _hard_ , before sitting down himself _right next to him_. (...And now the front row of the class consisted of Crampelter, Bill, Miz, Sixer, and Lee, with Lee sitting closest to the door.)

Mr. Carrow looked livid at this arrangement of hooligans in his front row, but didn't want to delay his lesson anymore and got up to begin writing on the chalkboard. At least that new girl was sitting down now.

\--And so the teacher began his lesson, droning on about the topic they were currently covering. Most of the class were already nodding off. His voice was just too boring to listen to.

Bill himself wasn’t bored, exactly. This was math. He’d used to BE math. And many many things in his home dimension had been FAR more boring than this. (So was Watching things and waiting for things to happen, sometimes. ...At least the rules the teacher was using here made sense and were consistent.) So Bill sat there with his chin propped up on a hand, quietly watching and listening the teacher as the lesson progressed… with half an eye on the readings he was getting from his suit’s sensors on Crampelter.

Miz, on the other hand, was trying very hard to sit still and listen but she was BORED, just like most of the rest of the class. This was all stuff she already knew. She wiggled around in her seat, wanting something to do. She sneakily glanced back at Carla who looked curious about Miz and Bill. And also about how close they seemed to be with the Stan twins. Miz didn't have a textbook for this class so she shifted ever closer to Sixer and leaned over his, pressing herself against him in such a way that her breasts were practically resting on his arm. Sixer was actually too distracted watching Bill and Crampelter (and Bill seeming to casually ignore Crampelter, and Crampelter sweating buckets and looking like he wanted to be _anywhere else_ but there) to notice what Miz was doing. But Lee did.

Miz hid a smirk at the jealous looks all the boys in class were shooting at them. But they weren't the ones she wanted to get a reaction from. Miz had her Eye opened and staring out at Carla behind her. The girl was not looking happy. But it wasn't good enough. It wasn't the reaction Miz was hoping for. Perhaps if she tried with Lee instead?

"You! Straighten up!" Mr. Carrow snapped at Miz. She jumped. (Bill let out a huff of breath.) "Ah, I don't have a textbook yet so…" She tried to explain but the man just scowled. Stanford Pines was on self-study, with a separate, more advanced math textbook than the rest of the class, so that excuse didn’t fly with him. "--Don't talk back to me." Harlot. He glared. Miz flinched and scooted her desk a little farther from Sixer. _‘Ok, looks like I shouldn't be messing with this during class,’_ Miz thought. ...Well, she had the rest of the week to mess with Carla. Miz tried to sit quietly through the class but it was just so boring~

What class did they have after this? Social Studies. Ah. That. Well, Miz started doodling in her notebook out of boredom. She jumped when the teacher called on her to answer a question, likely thinking that she wasn't paying attention since she was drawing. He seemed angry that she got it right. (Admittedly, her All-Seeing Eye had helped her out a _little_ bit there, since she hadn’t been paying attention and wouldn’t have known what the question was, otherwise.) Miz answered easily enough when the old man shot her another question, which only made Mr. Carrow more determined to find some way to trip her up. He didn’t like her already.

Miz tried very hard to sit still and be quiet when not being spoken to by the teacher. She used to be able to do this as a human, though even then, she had to doodle or fiddle with her hands or she’d go crazy. But here? With her energy buzzing beneath the skin of her vessel? It was awful. She wished her bowtie was here for her to flick. Not wanting to be scolded by the teacher anymore, Miz left her Eye open and put the rest of her focus on doodling in her notebook, her mind drifting off to some far off daydream instead.

Mr. Carrow was obviously annoyed but continued his lesson. He saw how the new girl was distracting the other students; the other students were staring at her when she leaned back to stretch or when she chewed on the side of her pencil. He scowled more deeply. Girls like that needed to cover themselves. He clacked his chalk against the board loudly, making the kids jump and look back at the board.

"Miss McCorkle! Can you solve this equation?" Mr. Carrow glared at her. She had been staring at the new girl instead of paying attention. It disappointed him, how these children could be so easily distracted. Carla stumbled a little, but managed to give the correct answer still, as she usually did when there weren't any hooligans hell-bent on distracting her. Good. Mr. Carrow began calling on more kids randomly throughout class. They all began to try and focus more, not wanting to be the target of their teacher's intimidating scowl.

Finally, Mr. Carrow called on Bill.

"You, solve this equation." Mr. Carrow scowled, clacking his chalk against the blackboard.

Lee wasn't exactly sure what Bill said next, but with all the "lines in length by" _some_ number and "angles in degrees by" some _other_ number, and "relative turnwise of" _something else_ … Lee wasn't _actually_ expecting him to end with some random-sounding thing of "--which is equivalent to the number twelve-point-seven-five in base-ten."

With the way Mr. Carrow was scowling at Bill, though, it was probably, technically the correct answer. Except...

"This is algebra," Mr. Carrow said with a scowl.

"And I'm geometry," said Bill, which had Lee wincing and slapping a hand across his face. _Not again…_

"Get up here and do it properly, if you think you know the answer!" Mr. Carrow barked out, challenging the hooligan. She'd likely copied it from-- (Then Mr. Carrow frowned as he realized that Stan likely didn't know the answer, the Crampelter boy was terrible at math, and the harlot-- ...Fine. It was probably her sister she'd cheated off of, then. That Pines boy had used to cheat off of his brother the same way, up until Mr. Carrow had put a stop to _that_ by giving them different assignments entirely. He'd almost never caught them at it, either, unfortunately...)

Bill got up from his chair and strode up to the board, facing the teacher.

He took the piece of chalk from the teacher's hand, held it between his hands by both fingers and thumbs… and split it in half right in front of him with a quick and sharp ‘snap!’

There was a pause in which Mr. Carrow looked like he was going to have an apoplectic _fit_ over this -- _he did **not** split his chalk!_ \-- and the class nearly gasped as one, thinking that the new girl was going to--

...except Bill then turned on his heel to face the board, and started writing across it, top-to-bottom, _two-handed_ , a piece of chalk in each hand.

Lee blinked as Bill wrote from the outsides in, from the left and right _at the same time_ , then moved down the board a bit, and started writing center-outwards, to the left and right this time, then...

It took Bill maybe five seconds to get the solution down on the board this way, and then he put both pieces of the broken chalk down on the chalk ledge, turned in place, and walked right back to his seat. Except, what he'd written up there looked kind of weird… -- _oh shit_.

(To finish it all off, Miz flicked her fingers and the chalk recombined into one piece with a soft ‘click’ sound, that nobody really noticed in the aftermath of the teacher losing his temper with the lot of them.)

(Because for some reason, the demon had written it all out on the board -- correctly as an _algebraic_ rather than _geometric_ proof this time, mind you -- but in _Sixer's handwriting_.)

\---

Lee let out a sigh of not-quite relief as they stumbled out the door into the hallway. The math teach had drilled Bill for the rest of the period, but this time he'd actually said all the answers in algebra instead of whatever-it-was that he'd said before. (And Mr. Carrow had done nearly everything short of blindfolding Bill to try and prove that he must have been cheating somehow. He'd even demanded to see Sixer's notes, thinking he must've written the answer down for Bill to see before the hooligan girl's 'performance’ at the board. Spoiler alert: Sixer hadn't.)

Miz rubbed her temples. "Well, that happened." No anger was felt, thanks to the headband, but she didn’t like angry scolding tones from an older man. (Part of the reason she’d thrown herself out the window a few days back when an argument was starting back at the Shack. That tone made her unhappy.)

"At least we didn't get any detention over it," Lee said, wiping a hand across his forehead and letting out a breath. He hadn't exactly been spared from a couple questions during that grilling himself, and with the teacher as pissed as he'd been? Lee had had to actually take it seriously that time, instead of trying to joke off a bunch of wrong answers like he usually did.

"We’ve got Social Studies next right? Are we done?" Miz Flickered to see if that teacher was more pleasant… and thank Ax, they were! A kind older woman who was very enthusiastic about discussing current topics.

"Social studies, then ‘art’," Lee told them. He looked at her askance; hadn't she said she knew their schedule?

Miz grinned. "Oh! I love art!" She tilted her head. "I don’t have any supplies… should I make some supplies?" Then a voice interrupted them.

"If you have Art last period, I’ll be there. You can borrow some of my stuff." Miz turned to see Mary. The teenaged girl grinned at them. "You guys are hilarious."

Lee groaned. "It’s not as funny from this side." Sixer just shrugged; he was still wondering why Bill’s handwriting was practically identical to his. Bill's contribution to this was an odd tilted-head look at Lee and an, "Of course not. Funny and hilarious are not the same thing!"

Mary laughed at that before waving at them and walking off. "I’ll see you guys in Art."

Miz waved before grabbing Sixer and Lee's hands again to drag them off to Social Studies. This time they were able to get to class with time to spare and Miz slid into a seat, unsure what this class would be about, she didn't really remember her own social study classes from a whole lifetime ago.

The teacher for this class, a cheerful woman named Helena Evergreen, smiled at the two new girls. "Hello, dears," she said, then greeted Miz with an, "Are you William or Miz?" She had already heard from rumors that the new students were two sisters, she had been a little confused about the name but figured that perhaps her parents had really wanted a son.

"I'm Miz and this is Bill." Miz introduced herself before gesturing to her brother. Bill nodded to the teacher once in confirmation. Sixer and Lee were already getting into their seats. Lee was hoping, praying, that Bill would just be normal for this class...

His prayers were in vain. The AXOLOTL didn't care.

\---

"I can't believe you kept trying to convince her that there was a 8th and a half president!" Lee groaned as they left class.

Bill looked offended. "There WAS!" he protested.

Miz patted Bill’s shoulder. "The nature of truth is fluid and skewed by preconceptions, ignorance, misinformation and years of careful propaganda by the reptilian shadow government," she tried to soothe him (to the tune of an irritated, "I KNOW THAT! But it SHOULDN'T be!" from Bill). "Besides, if the authorities found out that some people knew the truth, they'd get arrested and shipped off to Washington," Miz tried next. (Nevermind the fact that no one had believed Bill, Miz noticed plenty of kids muffling giggles.)

Sixer blinked. "You mean there really WAS a 8th and a half President?"

"YES!" Bill insisted. "I used to talk to him--" he stopped short, blinking, then looked incredibly annoyed for some reason Lee didn't get. "WELL," said Bill, in slightly more sedate tones again. "I used to talk to the one in the dimension we portaled _here_ from," Bill muttered out.

Miz winced. "Oh geez, how did your Ax even manage to do all this without you?" That… would require a lot of work, wouldn't it?

"I KNOW." Bill looked thoroughly annoyed. It wasn't as though he hadn't looked into this all before they'd jumped; it was why he'd gotten so mad about what the stupid lizard had done in the first place! "Fever dreams and mushrooms are MUCH MORE of a 'thing’ here! Mostly. Also: global warming; more sunspots; less giant birds." He glared at nothing in particular. "-- _And_ stealing enough weirdness from MY dimension to practically DEFLATE IT like a BALLOON!" he gritted out, voice rising, fists clenched at his sides.

Miz continued patting Bill on the back. "Huh, well the global warming thing sounds like what my past dimension was going through, maybe it's what happens when there's no Bill?"

Bill turned his head towards his little sister and gave her a confused look. "Global warming happens when there's a _star_ acting as a sun!" he told her. "That's why the planet isn't one big iceball!"

Miz shrugged, "And enough carbon in the atmosphere to trap too much heat in the planet to cause global climate shifts."

"Well, yes?" said Bill, because enough carbon in the atmosphere did do that. "What's your point?"

Miz shrugged, not really wanting to go into this right now. "Well, does carbon fueled overheating of the planet happen in the dimension we portaled in from? I forgot to check."

Bill blinked. "It could happen that way." He tilted his head at her. "Why do you want to know?" (He was, yet again, not connecting the concepts Miz was bringing up as all belonging to the same train of thought.)

Miz shrugged. "It would be nice if it didn't. Intense climate changes like that tend to kill off the plants and animals that can't adapt quickly enough. Which, was kinda normal, mass extinctions happen all the time, but I like the animals that currently exist.."

They were all walking to the art room as they talked, Sixer was swinging his head around to look at the two. "Wait, climate change? Global warming?"

"Your planet's coming out of a mini ice age," Bill told him, waving it off. "Don't worry about it. YET." As far as he was concerned, fixing that sort of thing was _easy_. It just required a little… ATTENTION! Haha! (Though he wasn’t doing THAT sort of thing, to prevent it, for _Stanley’s_ dimension. Global warming unfroze Time Baby where and when he was going to finish reconstituting his molecules! --Bill wanted _that_ time loop set up and remaining FIRMLY in place, as it was and already had been and would continue to would-be in the future, present, and past… So global warming for that dimension, there would be! _One way or the other._ HAHAHAHAHA!)

Lee still looked worried, but Bill waved him off as they got to the art room. Miz blinked slowly before sighing. She would Look this up later and see about fixing it. The Earth was supposed to have periods of hot and cold, but they weren't supposed to be as intense as her memories from her human years told her.

Mary waved at them when they got into the art room. "Hey, how've you all been?" Miz shrugged as she sat down beside her. "Brother tried to enlighten our class on the truth of American history. They didn't believe him." Mary raised an eyebrow. "Ah, huh?" Miz shrugged. "It's not all that important."

This class was smaller than their other classes, being an elective. The teacher came in to grin at them all. "Oh. New students! Right! Yes! Nice to meet you! Well, today we're doing still life sketching. If you don't have charcoal, you can grab some from the cart. You will have to get your own paper though." The teacher, an energetic young woman who seemed like a grad student herself, spoke incredibly quickly.

Miz sighed. She knew still lives were meant for practicing their technical skills, but she didn't like them. Well, unless it was an interesting still life. The teacher flicked on a few spot lights to give her display a stark light and dark with shadows. Miz blinked. Oh. This wasn't bad. There was a deer skull and a bird cage. She could do that. Mary ripped off two pieces of paper from her sketchpad and handed them to Miz and Bill.

"Thanks." Miz grinned at her. (Bill didn’t bother with the thanks; Mary had said she would share her supplies, and sharing her supplies, she was doing. Bill hadn’t asked for it, so as far as Bill was concerned, he didn’t owe her anything for what was being given, that she’d promised without any strings attached to give.)

Mary grinned back, scooting her chair a little closer. "So, you don’t mind if I try to get to know you, right?" Mary asked bluntly.

Miz tilted her head. "Not really? Are you suggesting we become friends?" Miz responded just as bluntly.

Mary blinked before she snorted. "Sure. Why not? You two are new to the neighborhood right?" Mary waggled her eyebrows at the other girl. "Space aliens or something?" Lee groaned in the background.

Miz giggled. "Yup. We’re really far from home. A whole dimension away!"

Mary hummed as she began lightly roughing out the shapes of the still life onto her paper, measuring with her thumb and everything. "That’s cool. So, are you here for the invasion or just sightseeing?" Mary asked wryly, not really serious. But those were the two main theories going around and she was curious what ‘story’ the new girls had made up for their little play.

"It was originally a rescue mission, but then stuff happened with those hatchlings over there and we ended up staying here for longer than we planned." Miz gestured to the Stans when she mentioned ‘hatchlings’. Mary raised an eyebrow. ("Hatchlings?!" Lee was sputtering, he wasn’t some baby animal!) "Well, you see, we’re actually from an alternate future, so the older versions of the twins came here and saw their younger selves, and then some things happened and Stan wanted to make sure these two didn’t suffer like they did in their timeline and he asked me to make sure that Lee doesn’t try to drop out of school, like he had to do in his timeline--"

"--Wait, what?!" Lee interrupted. He hadn’t really gotten that from what the old guy him had said earlier.

Miz turned to him with a serious look, her hands still sketching out the still life (cheating with an All Seeing Eye? Fuck yeah she would!) and deadpanned, "In their dimension, Stan got blamed for breaking the project."

At this, the twins both flinched violently, and they both went more than a little pale. They could clearly imagine what would have happened if something like that happened. Filbrick would have been even MORE pissed off. And with Lee taking the blame...

(’Oh shit,’ Lee thought, because hadn’t the old-SIxer said that things had happened differently in their dimension? That they _hadn’t_ had a bunch of older-thems around? --Then what had that older-him had to do, all out on… his own? Lee wasn’t too sure that he could hold down enough jobs to make enough money for hotel rooms every night, let alone food…)

Mary looked back and forth between them. Was this ‘play’ even more intricate than she thought? The twins looked legitimately upset. She frowned. The whole ‘alien’ thing couldn’t be real, could it?

Lee was frowning, and Sixer glanced at his brother with a worried expression. He remembered Miz had said in the boat with those two older versions of them that Filbrick had _originally_ planned to throw him out… which means that in the other timeline, it must have been _Lee_ who had been thrown out, instead of him. And from the sounds of it, if he was understanding Miz correctly now, Lee must have dropped out of school altogether in order to try and make ends meet...

Miz hummed as she turned back to her own drawing. "--But anyway, we’re staying for a while in this dimension so we can help these two reach some sort of financial stability, considering Sixer got disowned by their father and Lee left home to be with his brother, because you shouldn’t abandon your sibling, and the older versions of them are going to work on making enough money for them so that they can survive until graduation, at which point they’re on their own." Miz worked as she talked, and by the time she finished her summary, she had the rough shape of everything sketched out and was now adding in the details.

Mary stared at the twins. "...you got disowned by your dad?!" she asked them quietly. 

Sixer winced and looked away, working on his own sketch for a bit. Lee clenched his jaw, but made no comment.

Miz commented, "Fildick is a jerk."

\--which made Lee bristle. "Hey! He’s still our Pa!"

Miz turned to stare at him. "A man who willingly throws his own child into the streets is not a father."

Lee shivered at the expression on her face. Miz turned back to her sketch and Lee heaved out a breath. (Geez. Ok, the younger sister was scary too. Got it. But why was she getting mad at _him_ for something his _pa_ had done, huh?! That wasn’t fair!) He hunched his shoulders.

"He isn't your twin's father anymore," Bill pointed out to Lee next, as the demon was staring (... scowling?) at the still life out of display. "Your Filbrick disowned him before kicking him out of the family. Or were you not paying attention to hear him?" (Bill had checked that right before opening the portal, while everyone had been tense and distracted. --HA, his Zodiac had probably thought he'd spent that entire time setting up the portal at the beach's edge, instead! But he'd been concentrating on _far more_ than just and only THAT...)

Lee bristled even more. "Just ‘cause he--" but Sixer cut him off.

"It’s fine Lee, let it go." Sixer turned back to his sketch. "It’s better this way," he said quietly, with an odd intensity that left Lee frowning.

Mary blinked and then blinked again. "Ooookaaay…" she said slowly. Weird. Really weird. "So… you two are here… because of them?" She wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Miz nodded as she sketched. "I don’t mind. It’s kind of exciting to be around so many humans. And it’s a learning experience for brother." Bill scoffed at this, while staring at the still life they were supposed to draw. He hadn’t started, not even touching his paper as he just stared at the display. "Bill, are you going to try to draw it?" Miz prompted him gently.

Bill hunched his shoulders slightly and crossed his arms. "I don't like it!" Bill complained. "Leaving out too much information," he grumbled, glaring at the still life, then again at the blank page.

Miz shrugged. "It’s better than drawing toilet paper."

" _Mmmn_ ," Bill said. He glared at the still life still.

"Just draw it however you want to?" the teacher prompted from behind them -- and startling Bill a bit, if the way his shoulders and arms dropped and his facial expression went all shocked-long was any indication.

Bill twisted his head around on his neck and stated up at her, wide-eyed. Then his eyes narrowed slightly.

"... _However_ I want?" Bill asked her, clearly testing. But the teacher just smiled at him and said, "Yes." This assignment was on observation but it was also the new girl’s first time here so Ms. Talia thought it would be okay for them to do what they wanted; the way a child approached art would tell her a lot about how these kids were -- their temperament, personality, etc.

Bill stared up at her for another long few moments.

"HM," said Bill. He looked at her for another drawn-out moment.

And then he turned away from her and picked up the pencil.

...and started writing equation after equation onto the page, starting at the very top, and working his way down.

Ms. Talia looked fascinated. "An interesting approach." Very different, she itched to know if the girl was testing her or was just expressing herself in a unique way; hard to tell sometimes, with her students.

"Mm," said Bill. "Easier to start with defining the general shape and material and environmental conditions for nonbiologicals, and then describing the deformations." He tapped the equation for a cylinder, the chemical formula for the aluminum-stainless-steel mix, and the formulas describing the intensity and relative location of the light (and light-color type) and the temperature-pressure-atmospheric conditions. He paused for a moment, partway through the equations describing the free space _absent_ of metal (starting with a smaller cylinder-of-removal inside the larger cylinder for the central cage region). "Other way around would need a lot more paper!" he told her. "--Biologicals are easier," Bill added, gesturing to the specific genetic profile he'd written for the deer skull (and the short addendums below it describing age, time of birth, time of death, time of _now_ , rate of decomposition and decay -- pretty much complete at this stage -- along with a the descriptor detailing the specific portion of the body being further described, the level of damage to it such as which were the missing teeth from said skull, and final resting place of said remains). Then he got back to his equation-writing.

Ms. Talia nodded. "That’s a new way to think about it," she responded easily before she glanced over at the other new girl's work… who seemed to be doing the assignment properly by drawing what she saw and shading it in… but was also doodling tiny little humans climbing all over the display… was one of them trapped inside the birdcage? "I see someone’s having fun." Ms. Talia grinned.

Miz nodded. "It looked too empty." Ms. Talia was about to move on when she paused, noticing that within the eye socket of the deer skull there was a… kitchen?

It was very small and Ms. Talia had to lean a little closer to look at it. A tiny little kitchen seen within the eye socket, as if it were a window. The detail was exquisite considering the size. But something seemed off. Ms. Talia tilted her head and was amazed to see that the ‘view’ of the kitchen moved along with her. As if she was now moving to look through a window from a different angle. The art teacher frowned and moved her head back and forth, watching the view of the kitchen change, she could only see the fridge and countertop before, but now she could see there was a stove as well. She rubbed her eyes, confused about what was happening, some sort of optical illusion perhaps?

She blinked her eyes down at the sketch and was shocked to see there was now a person inside the kitchen. Had the new girl drawn it in the few seconds her eyes had been closed? Wait. Ms. Talia looked around to the rest of the sketch and frowned. The person inside the birdcage was gone and… the rest of the people in the drawing had moved positions?

"Miz," she heard the other girl say in tones of complaint. "It’s _supposed_ to be a STILL life."

The asian girl pouted. "But that’s boring~" She added a tiny little cat. It didn’t move but when Ms. Talia looked away to Bill and then back, the cat was halfway up the side of the cage, frozen in the act of climbing.

"Do the assignment right," Bill told her. "Or do a different assignment! ...Ask for another one?" Bill amended. "But _don't_ do it _wrong_ **ON PURPOSE** ; that's just annoying," he chided her absently, not looking away from his own work (as he kept on writing). "School is for learning how to do things right!"

Miz pouted some more but drew a car, which everyone in the drawing piled into and left as she moved her hand over the drawing to block it from view, only allowing brief glimpses of the car and the people in it, leaving the still life empty once more. Ms. Talia was still staring.

Mary was staring too. "That’s really cool. How’d you do that?"

Miz shrugged while Lee was groaning into his hands. "I just animated them." She paused. "I need more practice though." Since these could only move when they weren’t watched directly, that wasn’t good enough. But drawing all the inbetweens was too much work.

"You couldn't just erase them?" Lee complained. Because had she really _needed_ to show off all that weird demon-ness of hers some more while people had actually been watching?! Gym class had been bad enough, but… she was… just as bad as Bill at this!

Miz gasped. "And take the life from that which was just granted? How cruel! This way, they’re just gonna go off and start their own lives somewhere else where they wouldn’t have to stay still."

Lee stared at her. "Those drawings… were _alive?_ " Oh man, he was gonna have _nightmares_ over this...

"Not fully, they don’t have very long life spans; they’ll live out their lives and pass away peacefully when their charcoal runs out." Miz blinked before assuring him, "But they wouldn’t be in pain, they’re meant to be temporary and they’re okay with that. They’re happy just to be able to experience life for a short while…" Miz frowned.

Bill glanced over at her. "Thought you said you couldn't do the life thing?" This sounded like it was at least partway to what 'her (stupid) lizard’ did already. Did she just not think of it that way?

"It’s not like they have Souls, though… I guess you might find that upsetting? I can animate stuff and make it ‘alive’-ish but they aren’t… really… real?" Miz frowned. "It’s like making a water tower grow a mouth and walk around, but it’s not really ‘alive’."

Oh. "--’Automate’, not ‘animate’. As in, turn into automatons. Animating is for cartoons! --And _re_ animating is for things that were once-alive before but are-not-now," Bill told her, grinning at her winningly. "And _terminating_ is for making currently-alive things dead!" Bill ended simply, then paused. "Or firing from a job. Except not firing. For less than gross incompetence. ...Usually because the position is no longer necessary, existing, or paid?" Bill said, pausing in his equation writing for a moment as he attempted to articulate what he thought was the current human English definition for that. They were in an English human-language 20th century Western human-society school, after all.

"Well these are drawings, so it’s kinda like a cartoon, thus, animation. And even if they’re not _really_ alive, I would feel bad just… erasing them." Miz pointed out. Sixer was scribbling stuff down in his journal. ...And Mary was taking this all in stride better than Lee had thought she would.

"So where are they now?" Mary asked as Lee stared. He wanted to know too, mainly because this was really messed up and he wanted to know, just in case. (He didn't like the idea of little drawn people climbing over all his skin when he was asleep. Because tattoos were a thing, and…)

"I think they’re just gonna wander about through other pieces of paper until they find a place they want to settle down and build a new house to live in.  Unless someone supplies them with more charcoal to sustain them and they end up growing or reproducing…" Miz put her paper down, having pretty much finished and not having anything else to do.

"What would they build a house out of?" Mary asked next, intrigued.

"Other drawing-lines," said Bill. "The cannibals." And just when Lee thought that the demon might have a problem with that, Bill let out a gleeful "HA!" instead. (Lee groaned and covered his face with a hand.)

Miz reached over to pat Lee's back, realizing he was upset but not quite sure why. "There, there?"

Ms. Talia was staring at the sketch on the table in front of Miz with a gobsmacked expression.

"Don’t ‘there, there’ me!" Lee complained, straightening up in place and away from her hand. " _Why_ would you just up and make a bunch of cannibal lines? Or whatever the heck they are? --That's messed up!" he complained.

Miz shrugged. "I was bored?" ("You made a bunch of cannibals because you were _bored?!_ " Lee complained next.) She frowned. "And they would have been happy to just live in my drawing, but it’s supposed to be a Still Life so they had to move and find a new home."

"Could've just left them there and started the still life assignment over with a new piece of paper if they were already happy where they were, little sis," said Bill, as he finished up his own work, lifting his pencil from the page and giving a half-grimace, half-smile at what he'd just completed. He turned to look at her, setting down his pencil. "You didn't need to drive them out of their home." Wasn't that Stanley's definition of… _mean?_

Miz hummed, "I… didn’t think of that…", before turning to the teacher, who was incredibly pale right now, "Would it be alright to have a not-still life for my assignment?" Ms. Talia nodded slowly, eyes staring far into the distance as she seemed not fully aware of where she was right now. Miz cheered before tapping a finger on her paper. "She says you guys can come home!" The dragon-demon whispered into the page. She waved her hand over the paper a few times and a happy family returned and moved back into the deer skull in all their stop-motion frame glory. Miz turned to Bill. "I forgot I could have asked the teacher if I could change the assignment."

"I did say that earlier," Bill agreed good-naturedly.

"I wasn’t sure if she would allow me, but she seems to like them…" Miz glanced up at the teacher who was blinking rapidly to watch the little drawings move around.

" _Allow_ you?" Bill said, sounding surprised. "It’s YOUR artwork," Bill told her. "‘Allowed’ isn't a thing! --She can critique, but she can't MAKE you change it or do it a certain way. Neither will I," Bill told his little sister, making it clear that: "I was just offering you advice and suggestions earlier. --I wasn't trying to tell what I thought you HAD to do or I'd MAKE you. You know that, right?" Bill told her with a light frown.

Miz nodded to show she understood and leaned over to nuzzle Bill’s side affectionately. "Okay, thanks." Bill smiled slightly; he didn't quite grimace at the start of the bodily contact this time. (Either Miz was getting 'better’ at the way she was touching him, or Bill was slowly getting used to it...)

Ms. Talia finally seemed to snap out of whatever stupor she was in. She reached out to hesitantly trace the edges of the paper. "Um… ca-can I have this?" She asked. Miz blinked. "Um… yeah? I’m passing in my assignment, right?" The teacher nodded, a jerky motion. "D-do I need to feed them?" Ms. Talia asked. Miz blinked. "Well, you can draw stuff for them. Like food or stuff if you want? But you don’t have to, they’ll fade once they run out of charcoal anyway."

"How would… someone give them more charcoal and… keep them alive?" Ms. Talia asked, a bit eagerly. Miz tilted her head. "I guess, you just trace over their outlines when they look like they’re fading--" The teacher snatched up the drawing with a grin. "Ok. Thanks. I will--- go and grade this now! In my office! Yes!" She had a manic look in her eyes as she power-walked out of the classroom with the drawing held carefully out in front of her. "I will take good care of them-- I mean, grading! Yes." Before Ms. Talia left the room, she called back, "Free study for the rest of the period! I will grade your sketches during our next lesson--"

The door closed and Miz blinked. Uh... 

Bill let out a soft laugh. He was rather _used_ to inducing that sort of reaction in humans (...and others...) as a muse. Though usually, _he_ went in more for the types who were……...

... _WELL_. Let's just say that he was _LOOKING FORWARD_ to his upcoming **’detention’** that afternoon! HAHAHAHAHA!

(It was nice to be APPRECIATED, after all!)

Lee was groaning into his hands. Sixer, the oblivious idiot, was still cheerfully writing all this down in his journal (without really thinking through -- or being concerned in the least about -- the deeper implications of any of it), while Mary ‘woop’ed at the free period.

Lee had never wished for the end of the school day more. What little reputation he'd had before this was already completely shot by this point, he knew it. No going back there. --He just wanted it to stop before it got even _worse_ , and turned into the negative bullying ostracization junk that he and his brother had used to put up with before. He didn't want to go back to that! Not again! He'd _finally_ \--

...Oh shit, the demons were going to be in school with them tomorrow, too, weren't they?! Lee wanted to beg the older version of himself to reconsider this, _ple_ \-- **that word** that you were supposed to use when asking for things nicely. Arrrrrrgh, Lee might even have to use it!

\----

Lee was thrilled to leave the demons behind for Detention; unfortunately, Miz didn’t want to stay for it.

"It’s good enough that I got it. I don’t really have to go, right?" she had asked Mr. Harman, who was already almost completely distracted by what Bill had started writing on the board -- which had made far more sense than what Miz had written up earlier (which had been smudged into further illegibility by the opening of the viewing portal itself).

And being so distracted, the science teacher shrugged and said, without looking away from Bill, "Yes, yes. I’ve got class with you two tomorrow, as well. I'll see you then."

Bill wanted to stay in detention, though he was a _little_ disappointed that Miz didn’t. (But Bill didn't argue Miz’s reasoning, which was that Stan had told her to keep watch on the twins so they didn’t skip school, but Stan had asked that of her because the want-behind-the-want was that he also wanted the two to graduate. So she wanted to stick with them and make sure they got back to the boat safely and did their homework so that they COULD graduate.)

So Bill took a moment to send a dead-eyed stare the teenagers’ way, before finally agreeing with Miz’s reasoning, with an expression of _‘If anything bad happens to my little sister, you’re BOTH going to pay for it!’_ quite clear on his face.

Lee sighed, feeling a little uncomfortable at the responsibility there. (Like the younger demon would listen to him if he told her not to do something that might get her hurt!) He watched as Miz gave her big brother one last nuzzle before waving goodbye and bouncing out of the school.

Mary wanted to hang out some more, but was forced to go home when she saw her parents arrive at the school to pick her up, some kind of family emergency or something. Thus, parting was such sweet sorrow for the two girls, as Miz’s new friend(?) waved at her as she got into her parent’s car, and they drove off.

So Miz and the twins walked back to the beach by themselves, with Miz looking around properly at the neighborhood as they went. She wanted to check out what kinda food they had here; a port town near the ocean definitely had plenty of seafood. She wanted to check that out. Miz stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of one particular restaurant, though.

"Is that place called the Spaghetto???" she laughed and ran towards it, holding Sixer's hand and dragging him behind her. "That's hilarious!"

Sixer stumbled as Miz pulled him along. "Ah?! Wait!" She slowed and looked back at him curiously. "Shouldn't we tell the older us where we're going?" he asked.

Miz tilted her head and considered it. "Ooh! We should invite them to go out to dinner with us!" She still had left over money from her sales. Besides~ she loved going out to restaurants with friends!

Lee sighed. "Uh…" He sort of didn't want to hang out with the demons in public. They were embarrassing enough at school! Though Bill wasn't here right now, and Miz was better at blending in as long as she wasn’t showing off her powers or whatever, Lee was still worried about another ‘lunch’ incident if the food here wasn't up to her standards. Sixer didn't seem to care about any secondhand embarrassment, so it would be up to Lee to save the both of them by: "We… need to do our homework." Lee felt like gagging, just saying this. (Oh shit. Was HE turning into the RESPONSIBLE one?! Noooooo!)

Miz raised an eyebrow before shrugging. "Right! Schoolwork!" She ruffled Sixer's hair. "You need to get yourself a scholarship, young man! Then you're gonna go and do awesome things! And-" she leaned in close. "Don't abandon your brother." She told him quietly with a serious expression. Sixer blinked. "Wha-?" Miz booped his nose with a grin. "Don't worry about it. But don't forget either." (Sixer looked at her oddly for this, as he readjusted his glasses.)

Miz looked around for the older Stan, eyes flickering absently. After getting them into school, Stan and Ford had returned to the beach and worked on repairs for the boat later that morning, before heading off. Stan had spent the morning along the boardwalk earning more money, after that. (And Ford had left at the same time as Stan.) ...Well, she would get the kids back to the boat, help them finish their homework, and then she'd take them out to dinner!

She pulled Sixer along. "Onwards! To victory!" She bounced cheerfully to the boardwalk. Her new bra offered enough support to do so without toppling over this time.

The twins were essentially herded back to the boat where Miz sat down with them, pulling out her own homework to work on it with them. Lee was planning to just half-ass his work as per usual, but he jumped when Miz suddenly appeared over his shoulder. "You can do better," she informed him, to which Lee groaned and said, "It's fine."

"I can tutor you." Miz insisted, scooting closer to him and leaning forward, pressing her breasts against Lee's back as she reached out to point at his homework. "You're not even trying. I know you can do better than this." She didn't seem to notice Lee's blush as she leaned against him to pull his Algebra homework back out. "You didn't even double-check your work."

"I don't really care?" Lee mumbled. Miz scoffed. "Come on. I know you don't care but it's not bad to try and do better?" Lee groaned. He didn't want to. This was so annoying. But he couldn't help but enjoy the soft bumps against his back. It felt really... nice. So if Miz wanted to lean against him while tutoring him… well--!

Sixer was diligently doing his own homework without prompting. --The sooner he was done, the sooner he could start asking Miz a few hundred questions about demons!

"Show your work along the side, it lets the teacher know you did this yourself. Otherwise they'd accuse you of copying your brother again and fail you without even checking," Miz could be heard saying from where she was helping his brother with his work. Sixer quietly approved of his brother trying harder on his schoolwork. He watched Miz lean over Lee with her… ah… Sixer blushed bright red at seeing the position she was in.

Miz didn’t seem to notice as she continued walking Lee through the math. "--then you multiply this with the one in front, the one there and you add them up afterward--" Lee nodded stiffly, face red.

Part of Sixer wanted to tease Lee about having a hot demon babe hanging off of him (and what said demon babe’s older brother might have to say about the whole situation once he was back from the detention that he’d so desired), but other other part of him was more interested in listening to how Miz explained the work to his twin.

Through some miracle, Lee actually managed to finish his homework. That earned him a beaming smile and a cheerful "Great job! I knew you could do it!" which gave Lee an odd expression on his face.

Sixer finished his homework as well, which earned him his own praise. He tried to hide his blush, an odd tight feeling in his chest. (He was… proud? Happy? He wasn't sure what this feeling was. But Miz's praise, as simple as it sounded, really seemed to be real and heartfelt. She really _was_ happy for them. Legitimately proud of them. ...It was an odd feeling.)

Once Miz finished checking over all their work and approved of it all (stating that it wasn't about them getting the answers correct, but that they had each answered to the best of their knowledge), she pulled them out of the boat behind her in search of their older counterparts. They were both in the booth that they'd claimed. Ford was in the back, seemingly not doing anything at all; Stan was up front, counting up the cash that he’d earned for the day.

Miz grinned. "Hi Stan~" (It was then that the teenagers realized Miz was back in her child form (having finally accepted defeat on the difficulties of basically lugging around two basketballs on her chest). When had she changed?)

Stan looked up and raised an eyebrow. He took a good look at the three of them, and the next words out of his mouth were, "Where's Bill?"

"He said that detention sounded like it would be fun so he asked the physics teacher to give him one." Miz responded simply. "I got a detention slip too! But I didn't feel like sitting through it, and I wanted to keep an eye on the twins. So I skipped." Miz said cheerfully as she help up the slip of paper. "This is the first time I've ever gotten a detention slip, is that good?" she asked.

Stan stared. "Hold on a sec. Bill _asked_ the teacher to give him detention?" He needed proper clarification on that one first, before anything else. (The kid didn’t do nothin’ without a reason for it; had he really just done it ‘for fun’? ...And which _kind_ of fun had the kid been going for there, was also a pretty damn big concern.)

Stan looked over to Lee and Sixer for their input, and Lee sighed. "Bill walked right into class and demanded for the teachers to give him detention. He tried with our homeroom and English teacher but they both refused. Then Mr. Harman agreed to give him detention ‘cause he wanted to talk to him…" Lee trailed off. Should he tell Stan about how the two demons had failed to pretend to be human that day?

"So… the kid… _wanted_ detention?" Stan frowned at them in confusion, eyebrows raised and barely stifling a laugh, because… what the heck?! (He couldn't wait to hear the kid explain _this_ one to him. How was detention supposed to be fun?) Miz shrugged, folding up her detention slip and making it vanish with a flick of her wrist. "He said it was fun? I dunno? Never got detention before, maybe it's actually supposed to be fun?" She shrugged. "But I wanted to explore the city and I saw a restaurant and it had a funny name so I want to go there for dinner," she told Stan simply.

"--Wait," Ford cut in. "Mr. Harman. Our _science teacher?_ " he asked, his voice rising in tone abruptly. It had been so long ago, but…

The younger twins exchanged a glance. "Uh, yeah? He teaches physics." said Lee, wondering what the problem was. Especially when the older Sixer turned white as a sheet.

"Oh _no_ ," Ford breathed out, looking like he'd just seen the face of death… or worse. "No no no--"

"--Ford!" Stan exclaimed, startled, as Ford _vaulted_ the table and shot off at a dead _run_. "...The heck?" Stan muttered, standing up and craning his head around. Was Ford headed for… the school?

The teenagers looked at the retreating back of the man and exchanged worried frowns with each other.

"It’s fine; I’ll handle it," Stan told the teens, as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses with his fingers. Then he let out a sigh and dropped his hand, looking up at Miz. "You said you wanna go out to eat?" he asked her directly.

"Yup! And I made sure we all finished our homework first!" Miz tugged on Lee and Sixer's hands. "They both did really well." The teens flushed at the praise.

Stan glanced at them both, then back to Miz. "Yeah, okay. Good." He paused for a moment. "You got enough money to do that? Eat out?" Stan asked her.

Miz nodded eagerly. "I can pay for myself! I still have some money! And… and I wanna taste the way they cook stuff here!" She didn't quite whine but she was wiggling in place with pent up impatience.

Stan nodded almost absently, already pulling a couple bills off the stack. He handed them over to his younger counterpart and said, "Take her wherever. Stay out of trouble." Stan leaned back and shoved the rest of the money in a pocket. "I'm gonna go catch up with my brother, figure out what’s what," he told them all. "Don’t wait up for us." Stan looked over at Miz. "Have fun. Just don't go eating out the whole restaurant, yeah?" he said, with a slight smile and a huff of breath that generously could be called a laugh. (He was tired thinking about it already, how he was going to have to handle the kid and Ford next.)

Miz hugged the two younger twin’s arms to herself. "Okaaay! I haven't had Italian food in EONS!" there was something _similar_ to it out in space but it just wasn't the same!

"Uh huh." Right. She'd been living out in space all this time, and 'her’ humans hadn't really gotten out of the pyramid age yet, right? She really had missed Earth food, hadn't she? She'd said it a couple times, kinda, what with not having the right ingredients for junk, but the demon-kid really _meant_ it. ...Well, Stan could sort of understand that. He didn't know much about what kinds of food existed out in the multiverse, but with what he'd picked up from Ford whenever he'd accidentally let something slip about what he'd eaten during his time on the other side of the portal...

...Yeah, 'very different’ didn't even begin to cut it. Not with 'classifications of species nutritional intake requirements’ with 'modifiers for fatal sensitivities’ and all that junk. (Stan still didn't know how exactly Ford had been _so sure_ that the kid had made those pancakes that one time a couple days before, though, instead of Dipper. 'That particular kind of bland’ didn't really cut it. They hadn't actually _tasted_ bland. He had a few guesses, but... Stan had been even more careful not to accidentally call Dipper 'kid’ ever since, though. He’d meant to ask Dipper to try his hand at making those pancakes, not the triangle demon.)

Miz was actually whining now. "I kept introducing the idea of Earth food to the creatures in my own dimensional set, but it's just not the same! The closest things I've found are Potatoes and Tomatoes! And even then they're not the same KINDS!" she said vehemently, as if this was of vital importance. "I've been trying to recreate the plants from scratch by altering the DNA of the other plants I've found, and getting my worshippers to breed their crops until they resemble the stuff that I remember, but--"

Stan held up a hand and Miz quieted. "Yeah, I remember. You said that before." Because she had. The potato and tomato thing, anyway, if not the specifics. Not like he needed to know those -- and if she was anything like the kid on this, too, she'd just rant on and on forever and just keep getting hungrier and hungrier, if he didn't stop her before she really got started. "It's fine. You're here now; you can copy whatever ingredients you want for later. --But for now, you three go out and get yourselves something already-made for you to eat. --That's enough money, right?" Stan asked Lee. "You’re not goin’ ta some high end fancy place? Or are ya?" With the way Miz had ranted about expensive foods being fancy for the sake of price and how they ruin food, Stan was pretty sure Miz wouldn't want to go to a high end place, but he figured he'd better check, just in case.

Lee spoke up, "She wants to go to the Spaghetto." Miz giggled softly at the name. Stan paused. Was she really wanting to go there just from the name? Miz grinned. "It sounds funny." Sixer finally spoke up: "Can't you just create whatever food you want?"

Miz tilted her head up at him. "Fresh cooked food always tastes better than synthesized food. If I'm copying the atomic structure, they all end up tasting the same because they're all the same, down to every last particle that makes it up -- but actual cooked food has all sorts of minute differences in flavor!" She could scan and copy any meal from Earth she wanted but they were all going to be the same. Even if she scanned and recopied something from a 5-star restaurant, it just wasn't as unique as actual cooked food.

"Which is why maybe you all should swing by a grocery store with her after you eat, before they close. Let her get a good look at a bunch of ingredients for stuff. Cooking stuff together differently would make stuff taste different, yeah?" Stan raised an eyebrow at her. Miz nodded. He was starting to get the sense that she felt even more strongly about food than he had originally thought.

Lee sighed but looked down at where Miz was holding his hand. "Well, off to the Spaghetto we go." He waved at Stan with his free hand after counting and pocketing the bills (that was gonna be way more than enough for where they were going), and the three of them walked off.

Stan let out a sigh as he watched them walk away, Miz skipping cheerfully while holding their hands He didn't exactly take his time cleaning up the booth, but he wasn't exactly _not_ rushing it either.

Once he had everything handled for the day, though, Stan hurried off for the high school.

\---

Lee had figured Miz was a big eater. He just hadn't fully understood what that meant.

They'd gone to the Spaghetto and Miz had spotted one of those Food Challenge things on a poster. A bowl of 4 pound pasta and 1 pound of meatballs challenge. 5 pounds of food within 50 minutes. If you finished the bowl then it was free of charge. Lee saw the way her eyes lit up.

Well, Lee had figured it was HER money so if she wanted to go for it, it wasn't his problem. The three got a table and when the waiter came around to take their orders, Lee watched Miz order the challenge bowl and the restaurant staff brought out a waiver for her to sign. Sixer, the damn nerd, was also taking notes on this, after ordering an eggplant lasagna for himself.

Lee got a normal-sized spaghetti and meatballs for himself and stared when Miz ordered a few appetizers for the table. "Don't worry, I'll pay for the appetizers," she told them, "Since I'm gonna be getting the Ghetto-Meato for free," Miz said confidently. The restaurant staff gave their group some worried looks.

"If she gets sick, it's not our fault," the waiter told them. "Are you sure you want to let her do this?" They asked the older (looking) kids. Lee shrugged. She was a demon, so whatever.

The appetizers came out and the staff were even more worried when Miz ate some of those too. Sixer was content to just sit back and watch the action, eating some food when Miz prompted him to. Lee felt a little weird about it, because Miz was fussing over them a little like… a mom or something. Maybe the way Lee supposed an older sister might have done it? Actually, didn't Miz do that with Bill too? Make him eat his vegetables?

After they finished off the stuffed mushrooms and calamari, the entrees came out. Lee sipped on his soda while Miz drank some hot tea. ("To clear my pallet," Miz had claimed.)

A waiter with a stopwatch stood beside their table. Miz grinned at the giant plate filled with a pile of noodles larger than her head. Lee really hoped this wasn't going to end badly. (Sixer just noted down his observations: one demon seemed to love eating while her older brother was the opposite, was there a reason for this?) Then Lee’s thoughts were derailed as Miz began digging into her plate.

...holy freaking shit.

Lee could see how wide the waiter’s eyes were, and he was sure his own were the same. Right, demon, yeah, but watching someone a whole head smaller than him eat a bowl of noodles bigger than her head was… a bit much. Miz sat back in her chair, rubbing her round belly and sighing happily once she finished. "That was goooood~" She wiped the tomato sauce off her cheeks with a napkin. The waiter put down the stop watch. "Uh…." He glanced at the empty bowl and then down at the stop watch. "Well, I guess you won the challenge…" And probably beat the old record time as well, if Lee had to guess.

Miz grinned at them. "Woo! Free food!"

Sixer snorted before turning back to his own meal. "Well, that’s one way to save money." Miz glanced around. "So I’m paying for the appetizers, I can pay for the deserts as well, if you two want any?"

Sixer wiped his mouth before responding, "I’d actually prefer to have another one of your hand-crafted ice creams. They were delicious."

And _that_ got a faint blush out of the demon girl, which made Lee groan. Dammit Sixer. Lee seriously hoped his idiot brother didn’t end up accidentally seducing the demon who found him attractive and may or may not want to eat him. (Sixer seemed to have a problem with girls that way -- as in, he was totally oblivious unless it smacked him in the face, and _then_... well, _nothing_ really. There was no smacking him in the face, other than the _actually_ -smacking-him-in-the-face kind; not as far as Stan knew, anyway.)

Luckily, Miz was distracted by the manager coming up to ask if she wanted her picture taken to go on the Wall of Winners. As Miz walked off with them to get her picture taken, Lee turned to Sixer and sighed.

"Be careful around her." Lee told his brother. Sixer blinked. "What do you mean? Well, if you're worried she'll eat me, I'm not old enough yet." which made Lee sigh again. "Look, just try not to be alone with her if you can help it, yeah?" mainly so Lee could catch whenever his idiot brother somehow managed to accidentally flirt with the younger demon, and maybe keep him from getting clobbered at some point later.

Miz came back, holding a certificate of success for completing the challenge. She slid back into her seat and grinned. "You know I got a coupon for completing the challenge?" She held it out to Lee. "Here. I don't need this so you can have it."

The teen took it with a grunt. --A discount was a discount.

They finished their meal as Miz hummed to herself and seemed to stare off into the distance, her eyes Flickering in a way that made Sixer really, _really_ want to study her more closely. Lee gave him a firm look and Sixer rolled his eyes at his brother’s over-protectiveness.

They finished their food and Miz happily ordered desert. Sixer scribbled in his journal while Miz dug through her slice of key lime pie and Lee flagged down a waiter for the bill.

Like Miz said, she paid for the appetizers and deserts, while Lee paid for his and Sixer’s entrees. Once all was done and paid for, the group left the restaurant and made their way back to the boat. (Lee almost started heading home but remembered that the pawn shop wasn’t their home anymore and had to stifle a tremble as he followed Miz and Sixer. The two were holding hands again as Miz chattered on about some nerdy science thing that Lee couldn’t understand but his twin seemed utterly enraptured by.)

Since their homework was done, and none of his part-time jobs were on for the day, Lee wasn’t sure what to do with his time aside from keeping an eye on the small demon in case she tried to eat his brother or something. Sixer was asking Miz all sorts of questions about ‘quantum’-somethings and ‘relativity’ or whatever. Lee leaned back against the wall, sitting on his sleeping bag as he stifled a yawn. Listening to them drone on and on was boring as heck.

Lee was wondering what his older counterpart was doing, and almost wanted to go back to the school to check on them, when Miz thoroughly distracted him by exclaiming, "Ugh, I can’t stand it anymore! I need to change!" before her form shifted and suddenly there was a young man standing there, stretching and sighing in relief. "Ugh… much better. I’ve been stuck as a female for far too long…" he grinned. "So where's the nearest grocery store? Farmer's market? Ooh! Fish market!"

....Oh right, Miz DID say she could be male if she wanted…

\---

"Ford! _Ford!_ \--What’s going on?" Stan called out, as he miraculously found his brother in the middle of one of the hallways in the high school -- weirdly, one not too far past the gymnasium where the science fair was. Stan had honestly half-expected to enter the school to hear the yelling from the kid being strangled (or Ford getting drop-kicked for trying it with the kid when the triangle demon had that bodysuit thing on and protecting him) somewhere; Ford had had a pretty serious head start on him, there. (And it wasn’t like Stan had been racing after him, either.) The heck was Ford doing _here_ , anyway?

"What’s wrong with the kid being with our old science teacher for detention?" Stan asked him, as Ford was glancing around looking frustrated, and… seriously, did Ford not remember where the detention classroom was? (Wasn’t like Ford hadn’t been sent there a time or two, himself, hell…) Stan sighed and started walking. "C’mon, Ford. The room is this way, ya nerd. And you think _I’m_ the one with ‘memory problems’, geez."

Ford frowned after Stan not quite furiously (he was certain that he’d already checked the right room for that!) and strode forward and down the hallway past Stan within seconds. Stan let out a grumbling huff at this, but just followed along behind him. Ford was muttering _something_ under his breath to himself as he looked around, and Stan couldn’t quite hear him -- his hearing aid wasn’t _that_ great. ...And Ford wasn’t facing him, so he couldn’t lip-read him, either. "Hey! Poindexter! Talk to me."

"Bill is going to _break_ him!" Ford hissed out as he strode down the empty hallway. School was out and the kids had all but cleared out, leaving the scientist’s footsteps echoing down the hallways.

Stan almost faltered between steps. "Break-- _what?_ " Dammit. The kid knew he wasn't supposed to do mental attacks! "Why would he do that? --The kid knows better," he told his brother, frowning at his back.

"That’s not--!!" Ford made a frustrated sound as he turned a corner and power-walked down the next hallway. "You don’t _understand_ \--"

"Then _explain_ it to me, Ford," Stan said, reaching out and grasping Ford’s elbow in exasperation, pulling him to a stop. (Huh. That... wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it was gonna be. Why hadn’t Ford fought him on--)

...Oh. Shit. Ford didn’t look so hot.

And Stan could feel his brother shaking slightly, through the firm grip he had on his arm.

"He--" Hell, Ford looked cagey as a trapped animal right now, almost. ~~(Or a bought-and-paid-for cop trying to get out of ‘fessing up to a mob boss on something.)~~ "You don’t understand, you don’t--"

"--know what he’s like, yeah, Ford, you’ve told me this one a thousand times, already," Stan said, about ready to smack Ford for pulling this shit on him, yet again--

"--No," said Ford, looking even more nervous almost, like… "You don’t _care_ what he’s like!" And Stan was just left standing there, blinking, as Ford just… wouldn’t meet his eyes, looked for the world like he just wanted the floor to swallow him up whole and-- "It doesn’t _matter_ to you, that he--" Ford cut himself off, and he’d fully turned his head away from Stan now, looking around frantically -- literally looking at anything and everything else _but_ Stan, at this point.

Stan let go of Ford’s arm and reached out to gently grab both of his shoulders instead.

"Ford, look at me," Stan said evenly. "It’s gonna be okay."

"You can’t-- I-- I mean, you _can_ , but I--" Ford winced and dropped his head. He shuddered slightly, and looked absolutely miserable, like he was confessing some horrible secret to him as he said, "I-- I’m fine _now!_ " Ford said, finally lifting up his head, and he looked almost desperate as he said, "I-- I’m over-- I’m _immune_ to him now, mostly--"

Stan stared at his brother, because… "Ford, you are not making even one bit of sense right now. Are you gonna tell me what I’m walkin’ into, or not?"

And his brother looked scared, still, even as he visibly steeled himself and said, "Bill is… addictive."

Stan blinked at him.

...Yeah, he didn’t get it.

"The kid’s… addictive?" Stan said slowly, because… "What, were you _smokin’_ him inside your head, somehow?" Stan asked his brother incredulously, because he was pretty sure that fire and the kid didn’t _really_ mix all that well, no matter _what_ the kid might try to pull over on everybody and their dog. But to what he’d just said, Ford grimaced and shook his head sharply in a ‘no’, looking irritated… with himself. (Not Stan.) Okay, but…

"Bill is _addictive_ ," Ford repeated, looking out-and-out sick. "He’s… he’s _contagious_. He’s like a virus, a contagion, and he just--" Ford shook his head, shivering slightly in place again. "His thoughts are terrible -- _memetic_ , almost -- and they spread like-- like--" Ford swallowed, hard. "--You _don’t know_ , Stan," Ford told him almost desperately. "You don’t know what he _does_. What he _is!_ What he can _do_ to--"

"Ford, is this some kinda weirdness thing, or something else?" Stan asked him, seriously not getting it.

"No, Stanley, it’s _what Bill **is!**_ " Ford said, grabbing his arms back, and he was searching Stan’s gaze frantically -- for what, Stan didn’t know. "What Bill does, what he can do to _any_ thinking species--" His brother was starting to shake again.

"He doin’ whatever this is on purpose?" Stan said, eyes narrowing. (He’d seriously lost the thread here -- not that he’d had it to begin with -- but he figured that, maybe if he tried to stick with the general stuff, he could still…)

Ford looked almost miserable again, pulling away from Stan slightly to clutch his arms around himself. "He doesn’t--" Ford said quietly, then looked away and shook his head. "...No. No, I don’t believe so." And then Ford looked at least a little angry, on top of everything else, as he squeezed his arms around himself even tighter. "He’s just… He’s simply _him_. And he… he’s..." Ford looked drawn as he looked down at the floor, very quiet now.

"He’s what," Stan said evenly, not judging any because, hell, he didn’t even know what _to_ judge, here.

"...Terrible," Ford said finally, but Stan got the feeling that that _really_ wasn’t the word that Ford was usin’ for the kid, inside his own head.

Stan eyed his brother for a long moment. But instead of asking what he _could’ve_ asked, he asked instead, "If you’re so worried about this stuff, the kid talking to people, then why didn’t you jump down my throat about any of the kids talkin’ to him, before?" Stan asked him.

But to this, Ford just shook his head. "The niblings aren’t at any risk of--" Then Ford stopped and grimaced. "...Dipper might be, in a few years," Ford said more quietly next, looking away from him, and that had Stan narrowing his eyes at him, slightly. (Okay. So this was probably some kinda geek thing, then. Stan could fill in the blanks.)

"Ford, what are you afraid of me seein’ here," Stan asked his brother straight-out. "You… do you need me to wait outside while you…handle things?" Stan asked him, because if this was one of those other-side-of-the-portal things that Ford was so messed up about, then--

"--No!" Ford said, looked shocked (and almost… afraid?) for a moment, before somewhat composing himself again. "I-- I need you to stop Bill. To tell him to stop." _To **make** him stop (-- because I can’t and won’t be able to),_ was the subtext Stan got there. Okay. "I’ll take our teacher… away. From him." Ford glanced away from him. "Hopefully before it’s too late," Ford said next, but Stan couldn’t help but stare at the tone of absolute despair in Ford’s tone at...

"...Ford," Stan said slowly. "Do I gotta ask…"

"You won’t have to," Ford not-quite whispered out. "You’ll likely see… they said he _wanted to talk to Bill_ , and..." Ford pulled in a slow and shaky breath, trying to get himself better under control. "...You’ll likely see. What I was like. After I first met Bill."

And Stan couldn’t help but stare. His brother was standing there, _shaking_ , out in the hallway, in the middle of their old school, looking...

...utterly miserable, and desperate, and scared, and almost as bad as he had when he’d opened the door of ~~the Shack~~ his house to Stan a little more than thirty years ago, to let Stan in after asking him to ‘please come!!’ (Past the junk with the damn crossbow and the flashlight beamed into his eyes, anyway.) Except this time there was no paranoia and no sleepless nights to blame the shakiness on, or the out-and-out _fear_ in Ford’s eyes...

So Stan stared at his brother for a good couple of long seconds...

...and then Stan shrugged (absolutely on purpose) and said, "Eh, I’ve seen you and McGucket geek out over shit before. I can handle it."

And then he watched as his too-pale brother stilled in place and stared at him in sheer and utter disbelief.

"...What?" Stan complained. "That’s what you did with the kid inside your head that you never talk about, right? ‘Wanting to talk to him’? About all that math stuff, with the portal?" Not like he hadn’t had the kid complain to him about it, a time or two before. "I know you thought you and the kid used to get along before, Ford," Stan told his brother in descending tones, with a frustrated sigh. "Dipper told me that one. Not like I didn’t know about that already. So what?" (Yeah, that got a grimace out of Ford... but also almost a smile? Yeah, Stan was totally lost at this point.)

"You know detention is for sitting at desks and being bored, not doing geek things with the teacher, right?" Stan told him next.

That got Stan a startled sort of huff of breath, and a grim, "One can only hope…" out of his brother.

Ford glanced around again. He honestly couldn’t remember where all the rooms were anymore, his high school years having been forty years past at this point. He’d thought he’d remembered where the detention room was, but… Ford shook his head in frustration. With how quiet the building was after school now (and with all the students remaining for their athletics practice having finally gotten their acts and materials together, having gone through the locker rooms, changed, and gotten themselves all out to the fields for said practice…) perhaps he could try to simply listen for Bill. Hopefully, if he heard the dream demon… (as much as he was dreading what that would mean for their old teacher, and what Stan was likely going to see and then be able to relate to him next…)

Ford knew Bill better than he thought, because after he and Stan both waited quietly for a minute or so, Ford _finally_ heard the faint echoes of the demon's laughter coming from somewhere down the hall, not too far away from them.

\--And Ford was off like a shot, racing down the hall in that direction.

"Ford, that ain’t--" Stan sighed and cut himself off, running after him, worried about what this was really all about. (That _wasn’t_ the way to the detention room, either.)

Except after half-a-minute of racing after his brother… Stan could hear muted voices coming from down the hallway in front of them now -- the kid’s voice definitely -- the cadence was pretty damn distinctive, even through walls -- and... somebody else, exclaiming something in... surprise. Hell, he recognized that tone from Ford, back in high school, when he’d been working through something and just chattering on and on about it: enlightenment.

Ford skidded to a halt and turned to slam up against -- no, _burst_ through the door, it _wasn’t_ locked -- and… oh no. Oh, no no no no--

Ford made a frustrated, horrified sound as froze in place and turned his head slowly, looking around the room.

This _wasn’t_ the normal detention room. This wasn’t a normal classroom.

This was one of the advanced study rooms, with all the chairs shoved to one side of the room, and-- there were those old moveable standing chalkboards everywhere-- and every last one of them was literally COVERED in--

"BILL!" Ford shrieked out, nearly breathless. He had the horrible urge to ~~read every last one of those equations--~~ slap his hands over both of his eyes and _scream_ \--

The ~~wonderful~~ _horrifying_ ~~former muse~~ demon of his, turned away from watching the teacher (who was standing at one of the boards) and blinked at him. And Bill looked… ~~relaxed, not even excited, _just_ \--~~ While the teacher was--

"Sixer?" Bill said. The dream demon looked legitimately surprised to see him there.

Mr. Harman, who was standing at the board, started to turn away from it, too, towards the entrant who he would almost certainly see as an irritant or an intruder upon his work and-- the teacher stopped partway, because while his body started to turn away slightly, his head and neck didn’t quite make it, and… he slowly and completely turned his entire body back towards the board.

Ford felt Stan enter the room at his back, and he had the urge to-- no, no, he could do this, he just needed to--

Mr. Harman, ~~or rather, the man standing in front of him who was an alternate-dimensional duplicate of~~ his favorite science teacher in high school, was shaking in place where he stood at the board, gripping a three-quarters used up piece of chalk in his hand like it was a lifeline, almost. He was staring, shaking as his eyes roamed over the board, trying to-- Ford didn’t have to _guess_ at what he was trying to do, he recognized Bill’s handwriting, and he recognized the teacher’s ~~(funny, how the little things came back, how they stuck with you even after)~~ , and he knew exactly how bad it was just from the ratio of the occurrence of each of those two things, scrawled across the twelve boards lining and littered throughout the classroom, alone. And…

"S-six?" he heard the teacher say, as if in almost a daze. "Six-- ah-er-it-- it-- Six is-- is-- is?--" Mr. Harman’s hands were shaking, and he was starting to look over the board almost frantically at this point-- trying to figure out ~~what had he _missed_ , because Bill never gave _hints_ out unless~~\--

\--and Bill just turned back to the teacher and took the two steps forward to stand by his side.

And lifted a hand.

And leisurely stroked the back of Mr. Harman’s head oh-so gently.

And then Bill said, "Oh, not six. Sixer. It’s a name. He’s right over there. No sixes here, don’t worry!" Bill ended on a quite cheerful note.

And Ford couldn’t help but flinch hard at the tone of voice Bill was using. The _instructive_ one. ~~The one which he’d _ALWAYS_ used when he’d been--~~

Mr. Harman continued shaking as he stared at the equations Bill had scrawled across the board, "No sixes, no sixes," he murmured, almost like a mantra. His eyes were somewhat dazed, still. (He was gone already. He was so far gone… Ford felt like throwing up.)

"That’s right," Bill said almost soothingly, stroking the back of the teacher’s head again, before lowering his hand.

And Ford froze stiffly in place at Bill’s next words:

"You’re _almost_ there..."

"...I’m-- I’m almost?" Mr. Harman said, the not-quite frustrated and desperate ~~and yearning~~ frown on his face slowly easing and… morphing into… "I’m almost there. -- _I’m almost there_ , I’m almost THERE!"

And Ford violently shuddered at the wide, rictus grin that Mr. Harman now had plastered across his face. His eyes were sharper; he was leaning in towards the board, now. But his hands were still shaking; he looked no less unhinged.

No. No. Not again. Not--

\--He _couldn’t_ be too late. Not _again_. If-- if he stopped the man _now_ , quickly, before--

Ford shoved himself forward, moving past Bill and getting in-between the teacher and the board, interjecting himself between them (...more than a little worried that things were about to get physically violent, because…)

\--but the teacher only startled as he lost sight of what he was working on. Ford pulled in a breath and grabbed him by the shoulders, all-but-dragging him towards the doorway --

\-- where Stan was standing, looking nothing but confused --

\--Ford forced himself to keep moving, and keep moving Mr. Harman along with him.

"--What, what are you _doing!_ " the man finally complained, and he looked _exhausted_ , oh Axolotl, he’d really been about ready to drop on his feet. "Wait, no, _wait_ \-- wait-wait- _wait!_ I--"

"You need to stop," Ford told him firmly, as he bodily dragged the man out of the classroom -- past Stanley, who quickly moved into the room and out of the way -- as the teacher finally began to struggle against his hold, trying to push his way back in--

"No!!" Mr. Harman exclaimed, as if he was seeing ~~the promised land barred and gated away from him~~ all his hopes and dreams being ripped away, out of his hands and out of his sight, and Ford’s heart _ached_ as he stood and planted himself like a tree in the doorway, as the (dear lord, far younger than him) man tried to push past him and get back inside (still, _still_ clutching onto that piece of chalk). "I need to--!!"

"You don’t," Ford said, starting to feel the strain and stress of it, beyond his capacity and capability to bear, on his own. (Not on his own.)

"I need to _finish!_ " Mr. Harman said, managing to claw past him with his arms, if not his body, trying to get a grip on the doorway to _pull_ himself past, and--

"What’s the problem, Sixer?" Ford heard Bill say behind him, and for one long moment, Ford nearly folded and dropped where he stood.

Instead, he shoved both arms out to his sides and got a double-grip on each side of the doorway instead, bracing himself, because he knew--

"He’s almost done."

...and the teacher paused for a moment as that ~~wonderful~~ _horrible_ phrase from Bill sunk in.

And then Mr. Harman got a hard gleam in his eye (which, really, Ford had been expecting to see from him right from the start).

" _Get out of my way,_ the teacher demanded, "I need to finish this NOW!"

Ford’s mouth dropped open as the teacher raised his hands (...fists?...) to-- But Ford couldn’t-- he didn’t know what to _say_ to-- he _NEVER_ knew what to say, to-- ~~oh, this was going to get violent, he was going to have to hit him, knock him out, and then-- and then Bill would-- once he was unconscious, he’d--~~

"Why?" Ford heard behind him, and he not quite froze in place as he felt his brother’s hand at his shoulder, pushing slightly…

...he froze at the look of confusion he saw fall across Mr. Harman’s face…

"Why?" Mr. Harman echoed, and he looked a little lost, tossed for a loop a bit.

"Why do you have to finish that junk--" Stan began.

"--IT’S NOT JUNK!!!" the teacher roared out, and Ford had to let go of both sides of the doorframe to grab onto the teacher and drag him back, away from his brother. "IT’S--"

"Important science stuff, right, I gotcha," said Stan. "--You eat dinner yet?"

Ford blinked at his brother, as did Mr. Harman, at the entirely foreign question that was, at the very essence of it, _very_ difficult to parse in that moment.

"Dinner?" Mr. Harman said, looking absolutely lost and confused (and… no longer combative anymore. What… How had Stan…?).

"Yeah," said Stan. "It’s way past time for that." (No it wasn’t, it was barely past 4pm; school had been out for less than an hour and a half. Dinner was usually at 5pm, or 6 o’clock; Stan knew that.) "It’s why we came looking for the kid -- to see what was takin’ so long with the detention and all, yeah?" Stan said next, almost immediately redirecting the teacher’s initial restless worry ~~(that they were going to take Bill away from him)~~ before the thought could even fully form. "You should go get some food, yeah?" Stan continued on. "Can’t go workin’ on stuff on an empty stomach. Ya won’t get anywhere." And Ford stared at his brother, because--

"--I can’t!" Mr. Harman said. "I can’t just STOP and-- I’m _almost_ there! I can FEEL it--" the man said not quite desperately, almost as if… he was asking Stan for _permission?_. Ford blinked down at his ex-high school teacher in pure disbelief. (What--)

"Sure you can," Stan said easily. "My brother’s right, y’know," Stan said next, "You gotta stop. Get some food, get some sleep." Stan was peering at him, where Ford was almost clutching the man to his chest now. "You look like hell. You can’t get nothin’ done like this. --You feel tired, dont’cha?" Stan said, as Mr. Harman struggled in Ford’s arms, about to protest. "--How do you feel right now? Huh?" Stan challenged him quickly.

"I’m fine, I’m fine," the man stressed, trying to shove himself away from Ford’s grasp. "I’m-- I’m..." He stopped for a moment, then pulled in a breath, shook his head, and tried to wrench himself away from Ford grip again. "I’ll feel better when I’m _finished_ \--" the man said next, sounding a little differently than he had before. (Was he… did he sound a little more _awake_ now? Except that wasn’t quite… --What was Stan _doing?_ )

"Hell, no. You feel like crap right now, and you won’t finish until you get some sleep first," Stan said, sounding terribly authoritative all of a sudden -- so suddenly it nearly left Ford’s head spinning. "You already lost the thread, didn’t you?" Stan said next, almost consolingly, and Ford felt the man still completely in his arms, then let out something of a wail. Ford winced as the teacher began to clutch at his head, starting to pull at his hair in despair; he didn’t have enough hands to be able to both hold him back from re-entering the room and--

"Hey, hey now, none of that," Stan said, reaching out to grab up the man’s hands at the wrists, pulling them down away from his head. He sounded almost soothing, like… he was talking to an animal, or perhaps a small unhappy child. "You got it once, right? You thought it before, you can think it again." (Ford felt a chill go down his spine at this, because no, no, the whole _point_ of this was that he was _not_ going to--) "Just gotta get a little sleep in you first, maybe some food. --Kid," (Ford felt another chill go down his spine because, no, no, what was Stan _doing_ \--?!) "This guy’s smart enough to get it, right? The thing you two were working on here. Got it before, didn’t he?"

"...Almost," Ford heard Bill say, as he slowly made his way over, across the room, over to the door. And Bill sounded _almost_ a bit wary, himself.

"But you think he can get it if he works at it a little more, yeah?" Stan said _so_ leadingly, Ford wondered at how far the teacher really was gone, because when Bill said...

"...Yes?"

...at Stan’s very heavy prompting ~~(also, oddly and scarily, _not a lie_ )~~, the teacher didn’t seem to pick up on it. He merely relaxed completely in Ford’s arms, so much so, and so abruptly, that Ford nearly dropped him to the linoleum floor.

"See? There ya go, even the kid thinks you’ll get it _later_ ," Stan chuckled wryly, and Ford didn’t miss the stress Stan put on that last word.

"...Yes," Bill said again, except... "He’s been doing very well for a human," Ford heard Bill add next, unprompted, and Ford flinched hard.

"Uh huh," Stan said to that, a little more neutrally. Then he got a bit of a smile. "Hey, y’know, I’ve seen _this_ big ol’ brainiac nerd--" Stan nudged his brother, as he moved out the doorway and past him "--get stuck on his work, no joke, and get just about nowhere, all _kinds_ of frustrated, until he’s gotten a good meal in him, and a few hours of shut eye." (No, actually, Stan _hadn’t_. But the man was buying everything Stan was saying, and staying largely sedate, nonviolent, and suggestible as apparently part-and-parcel of that, so Ford kept his mouth shut on all of it.) "You ain’t the only one. It’s like that for everybody. Even the kid gets it; he stops when he needs to eat and sleep, too." (Ford carefully did not look Bill’s way as Stan made this pronouncement.)

And then Stan reached out and practically plucked Mr. Harman out of Ford’s hold like he was some kind of… _baby bird_ , looking and sounding perfectly genial all the while. "Trust me, it’s _much_ easier to get those things all figured out and finished once you take a break." Stan told him, giving a shrug as he recentered the man back onto his feet, got a shoulder under him, and... started helping him walk down the hallway? "It’ll all be there for you, later. Just gonna get you to the teacher’s lounge for a bit, just have you lie down for awhile, yeah?" Stan said, looking back over his shoulder.

Ford stiffened in place slightly at the look Stan gave him, that was damn near murderous in its glare. (And Ford heard Bill let out a ‘tch’ sound, and then a quiet " _Fine_ ," as the demon leaned up against the doorway, crossing his arms.)

"And hey," Ford heard Stan add, as they kept making their slowly way down the corridor, the teacher both tired and confused (but not fighting Stan as they went), "Worst-case, the kid’s here tomorrow, and you can ask him anything you want again, then," Stan said at the last, almost sing-song. (No, no Bill _wouldn’t_ \-- not if _he_ had anything to say about it. And Ford was _going_ to have a talk with his brother about--)

Stan turned the corner with the teacher, and Ford realized that he had just been left alone in the hallway with Bill.

Just outside the room full of research and math equations _filling_ the entire room.

Oh, no.

Ford slowly turned his head to look at Bill.

Bill was giving him a long glare.

And then Bill said, "Just because Stanley wants me to ‘ _behave_ ’ with you, _doesn’t_ mean I’m not going to attack back if you try something _stupid_ with me right now," and it left Ford blinking.

...And it was about that point that Ford realized that _he_ hadn’t been the only one that Stan had been glaring at, there.

Ford stomped into the room, past Bill, nearly shoving him out of the doorway in the process.

" _Hey!_ " Bill protested, not moving much to keep from either getting mowed down (or having Ford run into him and go nowhere because of his suit)--

\--but Bill had moved _enough_ for what Ford had needed, and Ford felt no small (angry, and self-righteous, and fully-justified) satisfaction as he grabbed the door and _slammed_ it in Bill’s face behind him. Ford then locked the door for good measure.

Which left Ford fully and completely alone in the room with--

Ford tried _desperately_ hard not to look at any of it, as he grabbed up the nearest eraser, and started doing what he absolutely needed to do next.

\---

Stan didn’t really know what the heck had just happened there, with the teach and Ford and the kid, exactly. But he managed to get Mr. Harman out and away from all that geeky math stuff, and settled into the teacher’s lounge, where the man almost immediately passed out on the couch. --Seriously, what the heck was going on? Stan remembered the man being as straight-laced as they come, with a wife and young kid at home, and…

Stan shook his head. He _really_ didn’t get it. The guy he’d known didn’t even _drink_ , as far as he or any of the students knew -- or had known -- but this guy, standing there, had just looked as strung out as if he’d been on some kinda…

Stan paused in place as he was lowering the man’s own coat over him as a blanket.

...He’d looked strung out. Like he’d been on some kinda drugs. The worst kind. And he hadn’t wanted to stop what he’d been doing when Ford had tried to…

Stan got the man’s coat covering him, and he quietly walked his way out of the teacher’s lounge, flicking off the lightswitch as he went, and closing the door behind him with a soft ‘click’.

...Had _this_ been what Ford had tried to say, when he’d said he thought Bill was _addictive?_ Had… working with the kid been like a _drug_ , or something? ...How the hell did that even _work?_ Stan had never had that problem with the kid, and neither had the niblings...

And the guy had been really not all there to begin with, there, too. Stan really couldn’t see the kid having a hell of a lot of patience with somebody who wasn’t bringing their A-game to whatever math-stuff he was interested in, and… the man had looked _shot_. And school hadn’t even been out that long; wrestling and boxing practice were on hold for the next week or so, if Stan remembered correctly, which was why Lee had been back at the boat with Sixer and Miz pretty much right away after school. And the kid had only been doing stuff with the teach for… what, maybe an hour?

Bill couldn’t have done _this_ to Mr. Harman in less than an _hour_ , right?

...If he _had_ , then what did that mean for _Ford?_ The dream demon had literally been _inside Ford’s head_ when he’d been...

Hell, did that make things _better?_ Or _worse?_

The kid had been acting normal, though. ...Well, for the kid. He’d even seemed kinda low-energy, there. The kid hadn’t been all excited, all bouncing around, all grating and shit. He hadn’t been...

Stan frowned.

The kid had been talking a little bit like the sponge-edged way he had been before, with the magic act and stuff. Not quite, but almost. And Stan hadn’t exactly missed the ‘did very well for a human’ that the kid had tossed out there at the end, _thinking_ that he was being _helpful_. Stan ran a hand over his face. ...Hell, if _that_ was usually what passed for a compliment for the kid, to anybody who wasn’t his little sister, then…

Stan stomped his way back down the hallway, towards the _not_ the detention room, the room where they’d found the teacher and the kid.

...He was gonna have to ask Ford what he’d meant about the whole ‘contagious virus’ thing next, wasn’t he. And maybe even the kid himself, too. _Hell._ Stan really wasn’t looking forward to that.

And the sight he was greeted to in the hallway when he got back didn’t exactly put him in any better of a mood, because the kid was leaning up against the wall _sulking_ , and his brother was nowhere in sight.

"Where’s Ford," Stan asked the kid angrily, to which the kid looked up at him (arms crossed, _also_ looking twelve kinds of pissed-off) and tossed a thumb back at the closed doorway.

"Right," Stan muttered. He stepped forward and… rattled the doorknob. Because his brother had _locked the door_ , the idiot -- so Stan **pounded** on the stupid door that was barring his way next.

"Ford, damnit, open the goddamn door!" Stan called out, and he heard a rustle inside.

He was about to pound on the door again when he heard the ‘click’ of a lock, and the door opened up.

Ford came out, his sleeves smudged to hell and back with chalk dust. Stan blinked. "...Ford, are you--" _‘okay?’_ he started to ask him, because his brother looked _seriously_ … off.

Except he got a glimpse of the room before Ford flicked off the light and slammed the door closed behind him, and... Stan got a bit of a bad feeling all of a sudden, even worse than the not-so-great feeling that he’d had going since seeing the look of their old science teacher first-thing, standing there in the room with the kid.

"...You erased it," Stan said slowly, as Ford leaned back against the door he’d just closed behind him. And Ford… looked a little shell-shocked.

"Yes," Ford said a bit shakily, and then he let out a slight laugh. "I erased it all." And his brother looked about half-gone himself. ...Not in the same way as the teach, but...

"You shouldn’t have done that," was what Bill piped up with in the hallway, looking and sounding irritated at him for it. " _Why_ did you _do_ that?!"

"--I’m _saving_ him from _YOU!!_ " was what Ford shouted out at the triangle-kid, rounding on him.

" _’Saving him’_." The kid just let out a scoffing sound. "He’s going to be ANGRY with you for doing that…" (Weirdly, the kid sounded almost tired, and also that kind of irritated the kid always got when he was rehashing things for the twentieth time… so... Ford had done something like this before?)

"You _shouldn’t_ have done it!" Ford cried out at the kid, all-enraged. " _Stop doing this!!_ " (Oh, hell. Stan could just about see the next one coming a mile away...)

The kid straightened right up abruptly and almost got in Ford’s face -- except for Stan stepping between them and putting out an arm, stopping the kid from moving forward any further.

"Words," Stan said tersely, as the kid fumed at the ‘stop’ that Stan _knew_ the kid wasn’t gonna want to go with, and Stan needed to know _exactly_ what the kid thought Ford had just told him to stop--

"He’s _interesting_ ," the kid said, glaring up at Ford. "And _fun_. He wanted to _KNOW_ something, and I _told_ him! Enough to get him _started!_ " The kid gritted his teeth (and Stan blinked, straightening in place himself, because had the kid just said that he’d--?). "I’m _not_ stopping--"

"--You _don’t_ get to **toy** with people, to _play_ with them until they _**break!**_ " Ford all but shrieked out at the demon, hands fisted at his sides, shaking, and sounding as stressed as Stan had ever heard out of him.

And then Ford _turned to him_. "Stanley--!!"

"--Kid, were you _tryin’_ to make that teacher drop from exhaustion?" Stan said, not looking away from his brother. (And his brother seemed to freeze in place at this. --C’mon, Ford, just give me a second here...)

There was a pause.

"...No," was the response he finally got from the kid.

Stan pulled in a breath, nice and slow. (Ford was staring at him, motionless now. Damn straight.) "Then whatever you’re doin’," Stan told the demon, "You’re screwin’ it up someplace." (See, Ford? I know what I’m doin’.)

Stan turned to the demon, to see the kid not quite glaring at him.

He half-expected an argument of ‘I’m doing it just fine!’ outta the kid.

Instead, he got… nothin’. Just the glare. Not even a demand of ‘...explain’.

"Stanley, tell him to--" Ford didn’t look so great. "Make him stop. You have to--!!"

Stan sent a glance back his brother’s way. (He didn’t really like how desperate his brother looked just then. ...He _really_ didn’t like the idea that Ford was suddenly clinging to the idea that _maybe_ Stan might have some control over the demon, when Ford _clearly_ had thought otherwise before. ...And Stan wasn’t so sure that Ford actually, suddenly and ‘magically’, thought any differently now.)

"Ford," Stan said slowly, "I want Bill telling-- _me_ things," Stan finished quickly, when he saw his brother go deathly pale. "I’m workin’ on havin’ the kid not go runnin’ around mentally screwin’ up anybody he’s talkin’ to, too," Stan added next, then looked back at the kid. "This whole thing? This is some kinda _mental breakdown_ shit. Don’t even know _what_ to call it." He frowned at the kid. "What the hell were you even tryin’ to _do_ here, kid?" Stan asked him outright.

"I was helping him learn," was what Bill said, and that damn near had the hairs on the back of Stan’s neck standing on end. But before Stan could say anything, Bill added, while sending a glare Ford’s way, "The _better_ ones like to figure things out for _themselves_ ," which had Ford twitching and going even paler.

"Kid, _five minutes_ ," Stan ground out, then turned away from him. "Ford, sit down _**right now**_ ," he told him brother next, because he looked like he was halfway to hyperventilating. "C’mon, down. SIt down. --Yeah, right on the floor," Stan said, guiding his (still shaking) brother down to the ground, his back to the door, and… Ford put his head on his knees and curled his arms up around them. Stan sat down next to him, and put an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

"Breathe, Ford," he told his brother. "Just breathe."

And for five minutes of silence? They did just that. They sat there together, and they breathed.

(And after about the first three, the kid sat down where he was and closed his eyes and just… waited himself, too.)

"...He’s going to ask tomorrow," the kid said after the five minutes were up. "You can’t stop him."

"Tell Bill not to answer him," Ford said, without lifting his head off of his knees.

Before Stan could reply, the kid turned his head towards them. "He’ll just give me detention again. And Miz might answer him instead."

"Tell _Miz_ not to--" Ford began next.

"--You don’t want me telling him things? That’s _not_ going to stop him," the kid interjected rudely, cutting Ford off. "He’s already gotten this far--"

"He’ll be fine as long as _you_ don’t enter his head again while he’s asleep, to reinforce--" Ford said almost breathlessly next, slowly lifting his head.

The kid looked _angry_ at that one, and Stan answered for him, "Kid’s not doing that, Ford. He ain’t going inside anybody else’s head."

"Tell him no," Ford said, looking at him. Hell, Ford. "If you really, truly think you can control him--" (Damn it, Ford...)

"It ain’t about _control_ ," Stan told him. "It’s about _trust_." (Hell, the stare he was getting from Ford on that one. ...Pretty sure he was getting one from the kid behind him, too.) "Kid," Stan said next, "Tell me you ain’t pullin’ this shit on Mabel at that spaceship of yours." (...And yeah, now Ford was silently freaking out next to him. He’d still had to ask.)

The kid tilted his head at him, looking at him curiously. "No," said the kid.

"No problems with Mabel, right?" Stan said, knowing that that had to be true. He’d been asking her… and payin’ attention. So had Dipper. Nothing had come up.

"No problems, yes," Bill said next.

"Why’re you doin’ it differently for this guy, then?" Stan asked the kid next, because the kid _had_ to be doin’ _something_ different for the teach for him to be ending up this way, right? (Stan couldn’t imagine that this was ‘just some Zodiac thing’ keepin’ ‘em safe, or whatever, if Ford had had problems with it, too.)

At this, the kid just blinked at him and said, "Shooting Star didn’t like how I tried to teach her, at first. She stopped me and told me so. So we talked, and she told me how she wanted me to teach her, instead," the kid said next. "So I’ve been doing that, instead." (Ford slowly raised his head up and looked over at him, staring.)

Huh. "Mabel _told_ you how to teach her?" Hell, _Stan_ didn’t know how to answer that kinda question. ~~(Hell, could _Ford_ do that, even?)~~ How did you tell somebody how you wanted to be taught?

"I had to ask questions; it took awhile," Bill said, sounding a little irritated.

"I hear ya," Stan said, though… "I am definitely gonna have a couple questions for the two of you on that later, once we’re all back home again," Stan told the kid. But in the meantime… "Why didn’t you do that for Mr. Harman, here?" Stan asked him.

And the last thing he’d expected to hear outta the kid for that one was, "I did."

Stan gave him a long look.

"He told you he wanted to work until he dropped of exhaustion," Stan said next, very skeptically.

"...No," the kid said slowly.

"Yeah," said Stan, "I’ll just bet he didn’t." He frowned and slowly stood up, back aching. "We are talkin’ about this," he told the kid. "Later. --I don’t want you pullin’ this whole thing on anybody yourself again, not until we’ve got this all worked out. --You got some _pressin’ need_ , or whatever? You bring me in on it," the same as the whole ‘writing to the trio’ thing. "You’re doin’ it wrong, and you don’t know why. Yeah?" he pressed the kid, who looked away from him, frowning and not saying anything. "Yeah. ...We’ll work it out," he told the kid, then turned away from him to look down at Ford. His brother didn’t look particularly pleased with him, but...

"C’mon," Stan told the two of them. "Let’s get back to the boat."

"Tomorrow, he’s going to ask me," the kid said again, as he stood up. (Ford seemed to be taking a little longer, for some reason.) "I _don’t_ want to lose the bet with you because this single teacher doesn’t like me, because of _this_ \--"

"I’ll come into school with you tomorrow morning," Stan said. "And _I’ll_ have a talk with him before classes, first thing. All right?" Silence from the kid. "Alright. We’ll finish getting this whole mess of a thing straightened out then," Stan told them both. "It’ll be fine."

...Neither Ford or the kid looked particularly happy with him, or trusting in the idea of him being able to pull this thing off at all, not even a little, but then what else was new.

"Kid, eat your crackers," Stan told the kid next. "You’re gettin’ testy. And you’re probably tired, too," Stan told him next. "I bet you wore yourself out there, too; same as he did."

" _I_ know how to pace myself better," was what Stan got out of the kid for his trouble.

"Uh huh," was what Stan said neutrally to this. But the kid _did_ pull a cracker box out of his hat and start munching on the contents. ...Well, good. At least _somethin’_ was goin’ right that afternoon-towards-evening.

"Say, kid," Stan asked Bill next, as Ford stayed quiet (well, whatever; Stan wasn’t complaining). "Why the hell did you want detention in the first place, anyway?" because Stan really didn’t get that one. He’d specifically kept it off the ‘fail’ list -- except for the whole ‘getting caught fightin’ thing -- because he knew how goddamn easy it was to get a detention slip in this place (especially when a teach woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning), but... that didn’t really explain Bill wanting one right from the start. Because if he’d understood his younger self right earlier, the kid had _wanted_ one, even _before_ he’d been talking to Mr. Harman.

"--Well!" the kid said, with the start of a smile.

And with _that_ as a start, the kid was off and running his mouth off, telling Stan every last detail of his first day in school, as they all walked their way out of the school, heading back for the boat.

Ford winced more than a few times during Bill’s telling, but Stan couldn’t help but chuckle once or twice himself -- and hey, props to the kid for the whole ‘getting away with looking like he murdered the top-of-the heap bully’ bit. Stan wouldn’t have known about the _retractable_ ‘mild neurotoxin spikes’ that the suit had in the knuckles -- that apparently paralyzed a body’s muscles all floppy and junk so you could kick ‘em all over the place, and broke down into some kinda alcohol-like something-or-another that caused hangovers in people afterwards, all untraceable-like -- if he wasn’t hearing about it from the kid having used it on the jerk, now. (And Stan knew that Ford wasn’t just ignoring the kid on this stuff, either. Which was good.) The thing about the kid’s ‘sketching’ sounded kinda interesting, too; he was gonna sic Mabel on him after they got back, on that one.

By the time they all got back to the boat, the kid had finished about twice the number of crackers that he usually did, and Ford was not so pale anymore, and breathing almost normally. (And not looking like he wanted to dig himself only halfway to China, pulling the dirt back over him as he went.) So, yeah. That was a thing.

Stan figured that they really could all figure out all the rest tomorrow, one way or another. Wasn’t like the kid was fighting him on this stuff. (That was… a first. Kinda. He could get used to this… but Stan knew that’d just be askin’ for trouble. He’d have to just pay that much more attention, to make sure he wasn’t backing himself into a corner, steamrolling over the kid when the kid wasn’t talking to him on something. No takin’ shortcuts on this shit; he’d work at it all, and figure it out. It just might take some time… Hopefully, Ford could just keep on holdin’ out until then. Really wasn’t helpin’ that Ford couldn’t really just up and run off for however-long as he wanted, gettin’ away from all of ‘em, though -- not like he could’ve at home with Fiddlenerd in the mansion, or just literally leavin’ town for awhile because he’d have the money for it.)

(Because as long as Stan didn’t have things settled out completely here, Ford might feel kinda stuck. ~~...And he’d need to stay near enough nearby still, to not worry about maybe bein’ left behind. So there was that, too. Not that Stan would ever do that to him, but Ford sometimes, still...~~ )

\---

When Stan got the kid and his brother back to the boat, it was to find the younger twins sitting up on the deck with a stranger who could only be Miz as a male… something-or-another with a tail. Whatever. (It was pretty clear to Stan who it was, considering that Bill had just walked right on over and sat down next to him like nothing was wrong, instead of complaining _LOUDLY_ to everyone within earshot about stupid and unwanted unexpected interlopers -- like the kid had used to do, _really_ early on, about all the tourists that kept visiting the Mystery Shack, on the other side of the wall from the rest of the living space.)

Stan barely paused before shrugging it off and going to grab some cooking supplies to make himself and Ford some dinner.

Ford, on the other hand, took a moment to stop and stare at Miz. "What--"

The young man turned and waved. "Hey~ I got tired of being a girl, so I’m a guy for now. I’ll change back when we go to school tomorrow."

‘Don’t,’ Ford thought to himself. ‘ _Don’t_ change back.’ He at least realized what would likely happen if he said such out loud, though -- given why Bill had supposedly turned into a ‘female’ in the first place -- and thus wisely remained silent on the issue (he thought). Rather than commenting on the situation out loud, Ford grimaced, shook his head, and opted to follow his brother down into the hold in the more pressing pursuit of dinner supplies, instead. (As it was, he didn’t particularly want to be around Bill right then; as far as Ford was concerned, this was just another reason to leave the deck.)

"Could just put on a perception filter instead, if you want to stay comfortable and not tired, little sis," Bill put out there (as Ford disappeared into the hold after his brother, and) as he himself settled in place at her(/his?) side.

The young man blinked at Bill, then grinned. "Right! I forgot I could do that!" He looked down at himself and laughed. "I think we’re the same height now." That seemed to please him greatly.

Bill blinked at him. "You like being taller?" What _was_ it about height (and hierarchy) that got humans (and shapes) so worked up? --His little sister could float. Height shouldn’t matter! (...Should it?)

Miz(?) nodded. "I can reach things now!" ("You could just float," Bill put out there matter-of-factly, which had his now-male sibling letting out a laugh.) His tail wagged slowly; the younger Ford was staring at it in fascination.

Sixer was starting a sketch of Bill’s demonic sister(?) in their current form, for his own records. He knew these two were demons, but aside from their magic and Bill’s eyes, this was far more substantial proof of their non-humanity. He'd asked Miz earlier and they had explained that they were a dragon-demon, who was originally a triangle-demon, who used to be a triangle. Lee had been quite confused, while Sixer had wanted to know more about what that really meant.

Meanwhile, Xin figured he could still go by Miz, just to make things easier for the people around him. He figured that Stanford was gonna be confused enough with him switching sex on them. He pressed his shoulder lightly into Bill's side before standing up and moving off to continue building… _something_ on the deck of the boat. "So how did detention go? Was it really that fun?"

"Mmmm…" Bill hummed. "--It was! Fun that is." Bill grinned. But then he slowly lost the grin. "But that Stanford tried to RUIN it." Bill sighed and slid down to lie flat on the deck. "He used to appreciate my brilliance, you know," Bill said, not quite pouting outright, and Xin laughed.

"Well, I’m sure we can find you something else to do for fun at school." Xin wiggled his fingers, assembling the machinery in front of him and tilted his head as he looked at it from different angles. "Okay~ and done! One washing machine! It’s solar powered and the battery is waaay better than anything humans would be able to come up with for… like… 80 years from now. This should help with your clothing situation." Xin patted the washing machine.

"Water input works on seawater?" Bill asked, slowly sitting upright.

Xin nodded. "Works with both fresh and seawater. There's a hose they can pull out and connect to the ocean."

"Mm." Bill pulled a knee up to his chest and lazily dropped an arm to dangle across it. "Might want to make a separate water filter that works on seawater, too. For drinkable water. And repair parts for the machines you are making?" Stanley would want something like that, wouldn’t he? Or at least find it useful? Spare parts in case something broke down was something that had had Stanley cursing the most, when it had come to repairing the portal. And not having to have so many barrels of water on-deck for water-stores would likely be considered helpful, too, Bill thought.

"Already got those too." Xin tapped on a panel and it slid open to reveal several spares. "It also empties out the waste water from each cycle back into the filter, and the resulting fresh water can be used for another wash for clothes, or a shower if they need to bathe themselves." Xin opened another panel. "And this filter is for making drinking water. For whenever they want to take this ship out to sea."

Bill smiled. --His little sister was so considerate! "Stanley will like that," he confirmed to her. "Good job!"

But Lee frowned a little bit, seeing what was missing. "Uh, that’s great and all," Lee began, not super-enthused at the moment because he wasn’t really sure he’d even be able to use it correctly. "But… the dryer?" Lee asked.

Xin blinked slowly. "You don’t want to hang your clothes up to dry?"

Lee groaned. "I don’t like the idea of parading my underwear for the whole beach to see. And saltwater spray gets in the air! It’ll be so humid, it’ll take forever to dry anything out on deck!" That was one of the reasons he was planning on building a little cabin up on deck, too -- not just to have a living space up on deck itself with a workroom and kitchen -- it’d leave a space on top of it (accessible by ladder) that was up high enough that water couldn’t really get up there unless it was raining, so laundry and other things could be hung up to dry once they were out sailing. But if Miz was gonna be makin’ all this stuff anyway...

Xin wanted to tell him that there was a Perception Filter over the whole boat, but thought better of it (and saw his point about the spray) and just built a clothes dryer as well out of more sand (and glass; he'd been grabbing glass out of the beach all afternoon). Might as well add a heating function so it could act as a mini furnace to keep the above deck warm when the weather turned cold. "You’ll need to buy the soap and other stuff yourself. And take the lint out to throw in the trash." He looked around. "Would you need an ironing board? Is that safe to have on a boat?"

"Well, the oil lamps are fine below decks, as long as we’re careful," Lee put out there, as Sixer stayed out of the conversation (engrossed in his sketching). "Don’t see why an iron would be any worse. Unless water got into the electric-whatever," Lee said, then grimaced. "Not that I’m planning on having any real electric-whatever onboard. Maybe a two-way radio with a crank-up battery or somethin’," Lee said with a frown. He’d planned on this being a sailboat.

Adding an electric generator for a motor, or anything else, was not something he’d planned on doing to the _Stan O’ War_. Those things ran on gas, and gas was expensive enough that it would break his budget as-is; the generator itself would cost even more to buy, let alone put in. Really, he’d planned on a lot of fishing, a lot of ‘water stealing’ (unless he’d gotten Sixer interested enough to pitch in on that part -- though he guessed the dragon-demon had done that for him instead), and some decent-enough luck at treasure hunting to make ‘em both rich. He hadn’t really thought of washing their clothing out at sea; just on-shore. They had coin laundromats practically everywhere, didn’t they?

"Not sure what stuff we’d need to be ironin’ out here, though," Lee told her next, shrugging. Wasn’t like he was gonna be some big muckety-muck businessman, running around in a suit and tie.

Xin nodded and proceeded to explain to Lee how the machines worked. "Put dirty clothes in here and dump in one scoop of detergent--" He even had the instructions printed on the sides to explain what the buttons did. "--this button to run the wash, there's heavy, light and so on. Might add more stuff to the dryer, well I can leave that for later, once you've got more of the deck built." He was more interested in showing off his work.

The washer was built to send the dirty water into a filter in the back, which would deposit the contaminants over the side of the boat, leaving clean water behind. And by filter, Xin made it break things apart much like his stomach did, because recycling in that way so much more efficient~

As well as helping it self-generate energy in emergencies.

And if that caused the battery to store some extra energy from the recycling process? Bonus! Xin didn’t even need to give the dryer a solar panel. It hooked into the battery from the washer. Xin hugged the dryer as he explained this (to Lee's bemusement). Hm… what else could Xin build to fix up the boat and make it super awesome? Well, he DID need to ask the kids first. Nodding to himself, Xin looked over at Lee and asked, "Do you guys want anything else?" just as Stan climbed back up the ladder and out onto the deck.

"’Anything else?’" Stan echoed, then frowned at the kid’s kid sister. Was Miz just… giving them stuff? For free? ...Though ‘what had they been asking her for?’ was maybe the bigger question (and problem) there, Stan knew. He glowered a bit at them all.

Noticing his look, Xin explained. "I’m helping in exchange for them allowing me to tutor them. And I wanted the washing machine anyway." Xin could justify it for himself in various ways so that his powers didn’t act up. He’d been getting better at finding his OWN loopholes. Would be useful for later. Especially if he wanted to try and do good with his powers for people more often.

(Maybe if Xin could figure this out, he could REALLY try to do some good in his own dimensional set…)

" _You_ wanted-- Wait." Stan blinked. " _Allowing_ you to tutor them?" If she was making ‘tutoring’ -- really, _any_ kind of learning -- into something that the person _giving_ it had to pay for… Hell. That was gonna cause him no end of problems with the kid. (Hell, did the kid believe this himself?) And to top it all off, ‘using it as an excuse to get something they wanted’ was… something that sounded almost exactly like every last problem Ford had had with the triangle demon since forever.

\--Yeah, no. Stan was cutting this one off right at the pass. Right now. Before things got any _worse_. (The very _last_ thing Stan needed was Bill learning all the wrong stuff, let alone having it reinforced by his sister.)

"Miz, that ain’t right--" Stan started to say.

Xin shook his head. "They _could_ just ignore me when I try to help or teach them something, like everyone else does, but this way, they’ll actually pay attention." He grinned. Sixer shrugged, he didn’t mind, in fact he rather liked having the demon teach him stuff. They were more interesting than the things he was learning in school. Lee, on the other hand, just groaned out, "She made me do MATH!"

"Miz--" Stan started again, starting to walk across the deck and over to her, as Ford finally ascended the ladder. (Ford, for some reason, had decided to carry up most of the junk himself. He’d been moving things between decks...)

Xin huffed. "I KNOW you can do much better in school if you bothered to apply yourself. You’re not stupid. You’re just unmotivated…" He glanced around the boat. "So I’ll have to give you motivation! And this here--" He slapped the washing machine with a hollow ‘thunk’, "--is one such motivation!"

Stan slapped a hand down on the washing machine himself, leaning forward in front of Xin, to look him in the eyes. "Miz. Hold up. We gotta talk about this. This ain’t right."

Xin blinked. "What's wrong?"

Stan let out a sigh and straightened up a bit, now that he finally had her attention. "Everything, kid." He rubbed a hand across his face. "‘Tutoring’ doesn’t mean _you_ ‘pay’ _them_ ; usually, it means it the other way around, if anybody _is_ gettin’ paid for it -- and those two don’t need tutoring, anyway. They don’t need _that_ kinda help at learning, to start with," Stan said, starting with the most basic of basic things first.

Xin nodded to show he understood what Stan was saying. His brow was a little creased.

"And if you _are_ tutoring them, especially if you want to do it for… free," Stan said, "-- which is _different_ than just teaching them stuff outright, yeah?" Stan added, for good measure. "Then they _should_ be listening to you in the first place, and not wastin’ your time for bein’ nice enough to do it, to help ‘em out."

Xin pressed his lips together. "I'm used to people shunning my attempts to teach them stuff. Some people listen but most do the opposite of what I try to teach them." Like some scientists who went through with adding certain chemicals together in labs even though he TOLD them it would create a toxic gas that would melt their flesh from their bones… and they had the GALL to get mad at him afterward when their flesh melted off their bones!

(Stan very carefully did _not_ bring up what had just happened with the kid at the school, upon hearing that from Miz. The dragon-lady didn’t seem to have the same ‘drug-addictive’ ‘virus-contagious’ problem as the kid apparently did, so… Stan didn’t want her learning all the wrong things from the kid.)

"Yeah, well, like I told the kid," Stan said (instead, keeping it as general as he could), "Maybe a bunch of _other_ stupid junk happens in those _other_ stupid dimensions." Stan leaned down in front of her again, "But it _don’t_ happen _here_. --Get used to it," he told her almost threateningly, straightening back up. (He could practically hear the eyeroll he was almost definitely getting from the kid behind his back. --And yeah, he’d told the kid just about the same thing, on a hell of a lot of _other_ stuff before. He’d gotten a hell of a lot of arguments and back-talk from the kid on that one before, too. So Stan figured it was probably gonna be a toss-up on whether the dragon-lady was gonna argue with him on it -- like the kid did -- or not.)

Xin nodded. "Okay…" Well, humans DID seem more receptive to his attempts at enlightening them with various things. The Egyptians and Mesopotamians had certainly appreciated his help. Though he HAD made sure to hide his form from most of them.

Stan let out another sigh. These demon-kids, he swore. "And you two," Stan said to the younger twin set. "Don’t go tryin’ to take advantage of the demons. Y’hear me?" He frowned. "Can’t _believe_ either of you two would think of ignoring Miz when you’re askin’ her to tutor you on your schoolwork and stuff to begin with." It didn’t really make sense to him; heck, why would Sixer even think he’d need a tutor in the first place?

Ford set the items down and frowned at the conversation. What was happening now?

Lee’d eyes went wide. He shook his head and held up his hands, in surrender almost, as Sixer winced. "I wasn't asking specifically for that," Sixer noted, stopping his observational study and lowering his pen for the moment. "I just wanted to know how to go about actually building the machines she was talking about, like that communications device she keeps playing with, something about an internet? But Lee wasn't all that interested and Miz didn't like how he ignored her…"

"Hey, I wasn’t ignoring her! --Uh, him. Them. Whatever!" Lee protested. "The dragon-demon lady was showin’ me how to use a washer just now!" He hadn’t even been sure about how to use the one at home; he’d been listening! "--And I didn’t ask her for help with my schoolwork," he complained next. "Neither did Sixer. She was just, kinda..." And at that point, Lee lowered his hands, feeling a little confused, because he wasn’t really sure how to explain what had happened with their schoolwork and junk, other than… "She’s pushy. He. --Seriously, what do I call you?" Lee asked Miz next, feeling a little aggrieved, because she kept making _faces_ when he said ‘she’ now, but sh-- he(?) hadn’t actually _explained_ what he was doin’ wrong!

Xin thought about it. "I'm fine with 'he' when I'm male, but I wouldn't be upset if you called me 'she' either."

"You keep makin’ _faces_ at me when I say ‘she’, though-- see!" Lee pointed at her quickly, when he saw him make the (slight) face at him again.

Xin pouted. "Okay it's a little weird. I'm just…" he frowned. "Well, in the language I'm more used to, the distinction between the two words sounds nicer."

Stan let out another heavy sigh. "Kid, just say what you want us to call you when you look like this, yeah? Even if it’s in another language. Ain’t no big deal for any of us."

Xin wiggled. "I… gave each of my forms a different name. So… this," he gestured to himself "-is named Xin. Like how the female humanoid-looking one is Miz." He suddenly shifted quickly through his other forms, Jan and William appeared for a few seconds before he was Xin once more. "I'm used to switching between my personas. But single-formed people get confused when I switch names on them so I thought it would be easier for you all to just keep referring to me however you wanted." (Yeah, that didn’t sound so hard to Stan, not as long as the dragon lady looked different enough to go with it.)

"Which one do you call ‘Bill’," was Ford’s terse contribution to the discussion, before Stan could even open his mouth.

Xin glanced at him briefly. "My triangle form," he said simply. He had made sure to NOT turn into that form, not anywhere near that Stanford.

Ford frowned. "Which one was _that_." None of those forms had looked particularly triangular to him.

"Ford…" Stan said, not sure where his brother was going with this.

Xin looked down at his lap. "Turning into my triangle form would upset you. So I'm not gonna use that one."

Ford narrowed his eyes at ‘Xin’. "Oh, don’t go not looking like the triangle demon that you say you are and _want_ to be, on _my_ account," Ford said next (already and still in a rather bad mood from not too long before).

" _Ford_ ," Stan said quellingly. "--He’s lying," Ford said next, glaring at his brother.

Xin looked a little confused. So… was he supposed to turn into his triangle form? He glanced at Stan. "Um… should I?"

Stan glanced over at her. "...Do you want to?" Stan said, in a way that was about as neutral as a human could get.

Xin thought about it. "My triangle form is most comfortable. Miz is second most comfortable." Was what he responded with.

"If you want to be comfortable, be comfortable," Bill said, propping his chin up on a fist. He had both his knees pulled up to his chest now. (He’d been listening and paying attention, just not joining in on the discussion.) "You were uncomfortable before; why not relax and be comfortable now?"

Xin looked back and forth between everyone. Sixer, for his part, seemed very interested in this so-called triangle form. What did that actually mean? (Lee had no idea what the hell they were all talking about really.) Finally, a little warily, Xin's form glowed and reshaped into a very familiar shape, to at least some of those present.

Bill blinked his eye open, feeling himself relax fully for the first time in this dimensional set. His bricks glowed softly, thrumming with energy in a way that felt less itchy than his fleshier forms. And then he looked over at that Stanford, preparing himself for the worst.

Ford straightened up immediately in place, frowning, and going unconsciously tense.

...But Ford’s hands hung at his sides, rather than going for his weaponry. And he kept on frowning as he looked over this Miz-who-was-Bill from where he stood firm.

Ford didn’t quite glare at Miz-Bill as s(t)/he(/y) hovered in the air, over near his brother’s shoulder almost.

And after awhile, he turned away and crouched down to continue what he’d been doing with the two crates he’d moved up onto deck only a little while before.

"You’re not fooling anyone, you know," Ford said, not quite casually and not quite under his breath at Miz-Bill, without looking the ‘triangle demon’s way. He rummaged through the crate and pulled out one can of beans, and then another. (The color was off, just a bit. Hell, the demon wasn’t even getting Bill’s signature _hum_ right -- who did they think they were fooling with this horrible charade…)

Bill (of that Stanford) did not look surprised at this reaction at all. He just smiled a bit (thinly) instead.

Bill (MizBill) sighed. Well, denial was probably better than hostility? He floated down to sit on the washing machine, a soft metallic thump sounding out as he did.

Sixer was staring with wide eyes as he immediately opened his notebook again to start sketching Miz ( _also_ Bill? She’d named this triangle form after her brother?) "Amazing!" he gasped. (At _that_ reaction, Ford gave a hard flinch, though he did _not_ turn around.) MizBill's large eye widened and his bricks faded into a faint orange tint before going back to yellow.

"If he starts calling you a muse, run for it," (Blue)Bill told his little sister not _quite_ sarcastically, leaning back and then relaxing his legs and arms until he was lying flat on the deck again.

MizBill blinked. "Um, ok." He moved his eye back to the younger Ford. "So… you're not… disgusted? By me?" He asked almost timidly.

Sixer blinked at MizBill. "Why would I be disgusted by you? You’re _fascinating!_ "

MizBill slumped. "Most people are. Um…"

Sixer blinked at her and adjusted his glasses, feeling a little off-put. "Ah… did you _want_ me to be…?" he asked of the demon next, pausing in his writing (because he was a bit worried that perhaps it might be just that important, to require his full attention).

MizBill twiddled his little fingers. "No. I actually created my other forms originally because I was tired of people being disgusted by me…"

"Oh," said Sixer, unconsciously curling his littlest fingers under and cringing a bit. "That’s…" And Sixer went quiet.

"Insane," was Ford’s next contribution to the conversation. "And almost certainly not true. --Don’t listen to them."

MizBill sighed. "Well, I'm glad you don't think I'm horrifying to look at, or whatever. It's nice."

_That_ had Ford twisting his head around to look over his shoulder at her with a frown. "What?" Horrifying to _look_ at? --How utterly shallow did the demon think he _was?!_

Lee kept quiet about the fact that he thought the way that giant eye swirled around to look at things was a little off-putting. Stan just leaned up against the washer a bit and crossed his arms, watching them all. ( _Especially_ his brother.)

When Ford saw Stan giving him a long look, Ford grimaced -- looking a bit angry almost -- and turned away.

"’Horrifying to look at’ is _not_ in that Stanford’s vocabulary, little sis," (Blue)Bill said lazily from his prone position on the deck, eyes closed. (--To which Ford spat out the appropriate single-word descriptor for that concept in Intergalactic Trade at Bill, almost spitefully.)

MizBill watched Sixer as the teenager got up to walk around them, examining their form from all sides. "Is that a good thing?" Sixer asked. "Not being horrifying? Or horrified?" Sixer was too busy sketching this wonderful alien creature to really think about how what he was saying might sound. (--They were nearly flat! How did that even _work?_ Where were its organs? Its brain?)

MizBill shrugged. "Being feared is sometimes a good thing, when I'm trying to scare people, or intimidate them so they wouldn't try to mess with me…"

"Fear and respect are the currency of the interdimensional market-space, for any being who wants to get something DONE!" BlueBill said easily, crossing his arms behind his head. (Ford flicked his eyes over to Bill for a moment at the use of the descriptor ‘being’, rather than ‘demon’.)

"--Speaking of getting things ‘done’," Stan cut in. "What do you want us to call you in which ‘forms’, and what things are you wantin’ here besides the washer?" Stan frowned at the floating triangle demon. "You don’t have to go makin’ up excuses to get what you want with me, y’know. Just ask the kid."

MizBill raised one noodle hand and wiggled it. "This form is Bill, but brother is also Bill, so MizBill is fine. Miz you already know. The male form you saw earlier is Xin. My four-armed form is Jan and the Cyclops one is William." He thought about it. "As for stuff I want, a proper kitchen and pantry would be nice."

Stan nodded almost absently. "We’re workin’ on the cabin on-deck next. Figure we’ll put that all together in there." He glanced over at his younger self. "That was the plan, anyway. --Shouldn’t take more than a day or two," Stan told MizBill next. Then Stan reached up a hand of his own and not quite poked at the noodle-hand. "MizBill, huh. ...Pronouns?" he asked of MizBill next. Wasn’t like he didn’t know that was a thing with the demon-kid, especially with all the ‘faces’ Miz had kept making as Xin at all the ‘she’ pronouns.

MizBill brightened (literally, their bricks glowing as they spoke) "Well I'm actually both as a triangle. So either she or he is fine. I'm going with 'he' right now."

Stan nodded. "Yeah, okay." Good to know.

MizBill tilted to look up at Stan from where he was sitting. "Oh right, I got a bunch of coupons from restaurants around the neighborhood since I won some food challenges." He flicked his wrist and a small stack of papers appeared. "I figured these could help the kids save money if they eat out." MizBill handed the papers to Stan to look over. The old man hummed.

"...Food challenges?" Stan echoed. He turned his gaze on the younger twins.

Lee shuddered. "Where did he fit it all?" ("It all goes to my thighs when I'm in a flesh form!" MizBill said cheerfully.) "He won the Pizza challenge, the hot dog challenge, the burger challenge…" Lee frowned. "He refused to do the hot wings challenge though."

"I don’t like spicy food." MizBill shrugged. Lee looked at him incredulously, because _THAT_ was the limit on what he would eat?!

Stan flipped through the coupons. "Heh. You win those and your meal’s free? Nice." He’d realized pretty much right away that MizBill had probably gotten all of these coupons so that the twins would be able to save money on food and meals. Stan didn’t quite frown as he tapped the coupons against his palm. MizBill _was_ trying to help, in his own way. ...Roundabout, indirect. (Just like the kid, most days ...when the kid wasn’t too busy playing ’who can be the biggest jerk?’ with Ford, anyway.) Was there a reason for that? Stan made a note to ask them both later.

Stan walked over, squatted down in front of his younger twin self, and slapped the coupons into Lee’s chest with a grunted, "Hold onto these for me, willya." He sighed as he mentally tallied up the list of junk he needed to talk to the demons about, still. It was a pretty long list at this point.

"Speaking of food. I need to make dinner for myself and my brother." Stan straightened up again with another grunt, and walked over to his brother, to get started on that. (He didn’t really trust Ford with the cooking for a second; he’d learned that one the hard way on their boat trip.)

MizBill floated over. "Can I help or would that make Ford uncomfortable?" Sixer squealed in the background ("How does the levitation work?")

Ford just eyed MizBill from where he was crouching, having finished setting up the campstove. "‘Demons’ don’t help. Ever."

"Help with what?" was Stan’s own question.

MizBill placed his hands on the sides of his 'face' and wiggled (which looked a bit weird in mid-air). "Cooking! I love cooking!"

"Uh," Stan began. "-- _No!_ " Ford said immediately, shooting to his feet and looking alarmed. (And Stan sighed, remembering how Ford had reacted to accidentally eating some of those pancakes the kid had made… hell, had it been that many days ago?)

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Why? Miz--Bill's cooking is great! He, uh, well, she at the time? She made lunch today at school! And--"

"--Food is important," was what (Blue)Bill said rather colorlessly, cutting Lee off. Bill was still lying on deck, staring up at the sky. "He can’t check it right now; he left all of his dimension-hopping gear at home."

Ford pulled in a breath, looking incredibly angry and about to read Bill the riot act… but then Ford closed his mouth and let out a hard breath through his nose, instead. He was glaring at Bill, though, as he did it.

Stan rolled his eyes at what he _knew_ his brother would say next.

"...Tell me you didn't eat it," was what Ford said to Lee, finally, next. (...Yeah, he’d called it. Stan turned back to the campstove, and the cans of beans Ford had pulled out, and started getting down to it. No point in waiting; he knew his brother wasn’t gonna budge on this one.)

Lee tilted his head. The hell? "Uh, yeah? Of course I did." He glanced between them all, wondering what was up. "I don't see the problem." Sixer spoke up, "It was safe for human consumption. And it tasted normal."

"And who told you this?" Ford said next, rather acerbically. "That it was safe to eat?"

Sixer adjusted his glasses, a little worried now, "Bill? But Miz ate the food too." was the older him worried about MizBill creating alien food? For his part, MizBill kept quiet. Anything they said would be used against them anyway.

Ford looked pale. Stan gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Oi, it's fine Poindexter. MizBill likes human food."

"But Bill doesn’t," Ford said slowly, looking over at him. That demon could’ve done anything to that food. At least… at least he knew what to _expect_ from Bill. But _this_ demon...

"You _knew_ that that demon made it, and you ate it anyway..." Ford said to the twins, with a terrible sinking feeling.

"I checked it," Bill said, sitting up slowly, to look over at Ford. "It was fine."

Ford pulled in a sharp breath. Bill wasn’t lying, but… (wait. They’d said before, that…)

"You actually ate something. That… your ‘sister’," Ford struggled to choke out, " _made_."

Bill nodded. "Yes."

" _You_ ate--"

"--I _checked it first_ , Sixer." Bill rolled his eyes and lay back down again. "I’m not an _idiot_." (And this… did _not_ make Ford feel any better. ...If anything, it made him even more wary -- and leery -- of this ‘MizBill’ than before.)

MizBill floated away, sighing. It wasn't worth arguing over. "Nevermind then. I can do something else if he doesn't trust my cooking."

"Yeah, well, he don’t trust your big brother’s cooking, either," Stan told her, as he turned up the heat on the campstove, to set the pot of beans to start slowly bubbling away. "So don’t take it personal. --Why I didn’t want ya’ makin’ breakfast for everybody before, yeah? He’s about as twitchy about demon-made food as… heh, Bill is about human-food, I guess," Stan not quite shrugged off. He sent both Ford and Bill a look. "If you want to cook for yourself, you can," he told MizBill. "Bet you’re hungry after all that stuff-making again?" It wasn’t quite a question.

MizBill tilted. "I'm actually pretty good." He thumped a hand against his bricks. "This form holds energy better. And I can self-generate energy more quickly as a triangle." His bricks hummed faintly.

"What?" said… Bill, who sat up quickly. then he seemed to shake himself mentally. "Generate energy from _what?_ " Bill asked next, palms flat against the deck.

MizBill blinked. "My emotions, my own knowledge, my own thoughts, and a small bit of solar radiation absorption if I have to."

Bill looked about to protest and question, until the ‘solar radiation absorption’ bit. Then he seemed to settle a little. "Amplitude and resonance are different than self-generation, little sis," Bill said a little churlishly.

MizBill shrugged. "Emotion to energy is the easiest. The other stuff are supplementary." He tilted. "I've been pretty calm."

Bill opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked a little like a deer caught in a pair of headlights (at least to Stan, heh). Then he looked more than a little annoyed. He pulled his knees up to his chest again, wrapped his arms around them, and said, "Emotional energy doesn’t come from _nowhere_." He sounded annoyed, and maybe a little… suspicious? (What was up with the kid now?)

MizBill shrugged. "I can feel emotions. If I convert some of it into energy, I can just self generate by _feeling_ something.

Bill was looking at her without much expression on his face. "You said you get tired if you’re angry for too long," he said, slowly and neutrally. "Yes?"

MizBill nodded. "It… happens…"

"’Getting tired’ means an energy drop," Bill said next. "You felt an emotion, and you had a noticeable energy drop."

MizBill lowered and sat down. "It's kinda paradoxical. I feel tired as in mentally tired, but my actual storage is fine."

"That’s _not_ \--" Bill looked frustrated as he cut himself off. He glanced over at the younger twins, then the older ones, then looked away. _Then_ he looked almost belligerent as he curled his arms around his knees a little more tightly and said, "‘Mentally tired’ is _still an energy drop_ , when you’re a _being of pure energy_. ‘Storage’ is what you pull from to replenish, after."

MizBill shrugged. "I think I feel things differently from you? Or store them differently?"

"...Or you’ve never had to think about how much energy you have to work with, to consider the _total_ energy you are having to work with -- _including yourself_ \-- separate from everything and everyone else around you," Bill not quite muttered out, looking like he was getting a headache. (And at that, Ford glanced over at Bill.)

MizBill considered that. "Maybe… I didn't really think about it." Heck, most of his powers ran on autopilot nowadays.

"Maybe," said Bill. He wasn’t entirely sure at this point, though, if his sister was or wasn’t actually running on different principles than he did? Maybe she was. _Maybe_. --He had _NEVER_ tried messing with emotion that way before, but… he’d thought it would be a dead-end. (Emotion didn’t come from NOTHING; it was fueled and spiked internally! Maintaining it through resonance and the right set of screaming-singing hums was ONE thing, but the initial-generation step?) Bill shook his head quickly from side to side.

(Closed-systems weren’t closed systems, yes -- but they could be if you MADE them that way, Bill knew. And he’d had to be very careful in what he did and didn’t try to take in -- with what his boundaries were and how he’d defined them -- back in his old decaying dimension, destabilized as it was. Anything _outside_ of him wasn’t and hadn’t been ‘stable’ unless he’d been actively _making_ it stable, and expending the energy to do so; he hadn’t been able to just… go up and ‘press’ against things and use the ‘natural’ pressure differentials to his advantage, like he could now, now that he was out, or eat whatever free-floating energy he wanted that was not-quite-magically ‘just THERE’ for him to eat.)

...But now he was in a stable dimension. And Bill frowned a little, because nothing was really the same now, as before, as his baselines, and while he’d done SOME planning as to his new circumstances before… he really needed to expand his thinking further, but _WITHOUT_ losing his sense of measurement of inner-outer and sourcing. (He didn’t HAVE to be as careful with absolutely everything anymore; he hadn’t really been able to ‘lean’ up against anything before, like he could NOW -- not without risking it **tearing** on him, or _worse_ \-- and he hadn’t been able to just up and eat energy in a destabilized dimension without worry either, because such energy was ‘naturally destabilized’ itself. But _now_...)

Now that he was in a stable dimension, though… for Bill, the sky wasn’t anywhere CLOSE to the limit. (But that didn’t mean that everything he got was FOR FREE; the processes that were already in place were just something he was using to his advantage to…) And yet, Bill didn’t quite feel comfortable enough in his own stupid human-ish body’s skin to actually stop treating everything like it was just as dangerous as it was and had always been in the past. Before he’d gotten out. It made said-body want to _shiver_ on him when he DID think it, in fact, the stupid thing. (And Bill didn’t know why it wanted to do that, why exactly he felt that way.)

Stan grunted out, "So you're not hungry?" to MizBill. Their eye squinted in a smile.

"I can still eat a little, but I need much less than before." MizBill then frowned. "But my triangle form can't taste things like my other forms." And the triangle sounded so _sad_ about this fact. "Which seems to be part of how my form is built. Changing my tastebuds into something more human makes it so I can't actually digest, it's too much trouble."

Bill frowned. "How close is your form right now to your form in your old dimension?" he asked him.

"Pretty close. The only difference is that this form is DURABLE." MizBill grinned.

Bill didn’t have to think about this for very long. "Try layering it in? --Don’t change the ‘tastebuds’, just add a layer inside or above them," Bill said. "Sensing layer first, to read the information; second layer, convert the information to something else, to groupings closer to the human mapping; third layer, complete the connection’s transition to human tastebud sensations; _then_ try hooking it in to the rest of your mentality. Yes? --No food conversion at that stage, by any of those layers," Bill added, "Just something the food has to pass through, across, around? Passive sensing. Does that make sense?" (Ford flicked his eyes over to Bill as Bill talked; Ford was sitting at Stan’s side as he cooked their meal of mostly beans.)

Sixer watched attentively as the triangle nodded at Bill, then shimmered, colors flickering along their bricks, and that large eye seemed to blur as something seemed to materialize faintly over it. Sixer wasn't sure what exactly was happening, but when the colors faded back to yellow, MizBill blinked and suddenly that eye was now a mouth. Sixer’s jaw dropped. That was… amazing!

"Test?" MizBill asked.

"Fish?" Bill asked. MizBill nodded. Bill pulled out his eyepatch, flicked it up into a hat, then reached a hand in, and whipped out a fish, tossing it over to his sister in one smooth motion. MizBill nodded (bobbing up and down) as he caught it with one hand.

"Ahhhh~" He shoved the fish into the mouth that was an eye. (Lee shuddered. Ok, yeah, he could see why other people might have thought he was gross-looking, because if anybody had seen him _eat?_ \--THAT was _really_ disturbing!)

MizBill chewed a bit and hummed.

"Good? Bad? Aquamarine, with a pink elephant chaser?" Bill asked him, curious himself as to how his experiment with taste was going. MizBill giggled. "It tastes like fish, but also like keratin and carbon. So, a mix of my different methods of tasting."

Bill straightened in place and grinned. He dropped his knees into a cross-legged position, looking pleased. "Good job, sis!" He hummed for a moment. "You could probably increase or decrease the intensity of each of the methods, for a different mix of tasting, if you want?" Sometimes he liked mixing things up a bit, himself! "Or add a layer to block the triangle-taste-method at the input, if you really want to keep it separate," though Bill grimaced a little at the idea of even partially-blocking a sense, once again.

MizBill happily floated around, thrilled at this new sensation. (Sixer was scribbling in his notebook: _He just ate a fish, but he's flat! Where does it all go?_)

Ford was frowning slightly, leaning back on his hands and watching all this. He was startled out of it slightly by a shoulder-bump from his brother, and when he turned towards him, Stan handed him a plate of beans and a couple slices of bread, with a "Here."

Ford took the plate from his brother, and the spoon, but he turned back to the rest of them, watching MizBill as he ate some more fish that Bill pulled out of his hat for him, explaining in delight the various sensations he was (seemingly) reveling in, as he apparently tried modifying his new ‘tastebuds’ further. ("Now it tastes like marrow!")

"How long has Bill been… _teaching_ that other demon things," Ford murmured to his brother, in-between bites of beans. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was an act or not. But Bill at least...

Ford looked over at Bill. Bill, at least, seemed sincere in what he was doing. And it left Ford with _very_ mixed feelings on what he was seeing, here.

His brother not quite side-eyed him. "Kid’s been tryin’ to teach her all kinds a’ stuff ever since she’s gotten back, Ford," Stan told him. "Taught her how to sleep, the first time she showed up with that other demon-guy, before that, too." Ford glanced over at Stan at the tone in his voice at that one, to see his brother giving him a long look that he didn’t quite like, as Stan said (slowly, and almost a bit too carefully) next, "You were in the woods with ‘em, for the headband thing. Weren’t they doin’ it then, too?"

In the background, MizBill was nuzzling his brother. "Thanks for always being brilliant!"

Bill let out a chittering-chuckle, grinning up a storm. The kid was... patting MizBill on the head(? well, he was stroking his back and his side-face with the flat of his palm and fingers) intermittently, and Bill was just looking out-and-out pleased with his demonic kid sister. "You learned how to do it yourself! I just gave you the general concept, to get you started. And you did very well!" He paused for a moment, then said, after a long moment, in a not quite drawn out way... "I am proud of you."

Stan sat up a little internally, taking notice of that. (He didn’t realize that he’d pulled in an unconscious breath at those particular words, but Ford -- who was watching him -- did.) That… sounded like something the kid had been _translating_ ; kid had paused like that before after a chittery-thing or two with him, saying things in a way that didn’t really have a beat to it, every syllable and sound taking the exact same amount of time for the kid to say to him, and... it had felt like the kid was restating things -- not word-for-word, but still... (Which meant…) Damn. The kid was… and Miz was… --They _both_ were actually trying to be supportive and affectionate with each other, and they were doing it in the way that _they’d_ \-- Shit. This was…

It made Stan want to punch somebody all over again. Maybe the kid’s lizard. (Damnit. Why hadn’t somebody just…)

It shouldn’t have had to be him. Or them with each other, after a couple hundred of _billions_ of years. _Damnit._

Stan pulled in a breath, and looked away.

(He missed Ford’s look of concern, and no small worry, on his behalf.)

But when he heard, "Stan…" the grumpy old man just looked down at his plate and said, "Eat your beans, Ford."

There was a pause.

And Stan heard his brother let out a long sigh.

"You’re going to get hurt," he heard Ford say quietly, as if in warning -- hell, as if anything that came outta his brother’s mouth these days _wasn’t_ one of those, when it was directed at him -- and Stan clenched his jaw and glared down at his plate.

"Like hell," Stan bit back in reply, under his breath himself.

And Stan took another bite of his beans, using his bread as a spoon.

They ate the rest of their dinnertime meal quietly, watching and listening to the kids (human and demon) as they chatted about the various and sundry stuff that they could (maybe) do with the boat. Sixer was finishing a sketch of MizBill's form. He wanted a closer look at that Eye/Mouth thing but MizBill told him that was a bad idea.

"I might get an urge to bite down, and that would end badly for you." MizBill told him gently. Sixer pouted but wrote that down. "Bite reflex, like an alligator?" he mumbled.

Ford frowned as he chewed on his last mouthful of beans, and started cleaning up after both Stan and himself. What was it with teenagers wanting to get near a demon's mouth?

"My friend Pyronica once stuck her arm in my mouth. It felt super weird and it took everything I had to not bite." MizBill reminisced. "My friends wanted to know how deep my throat was…" it was VERY deep apparently. He was a little curious himself, but too uncomfortable with the process to really try it out himself.

"How deep is it?" Sixer asked. MizBill shrugged. "Not sure. Everything I swallow gets torn apart molecule by molecule, so I don't know. Maybe it's infinite, or maybe there's a bottom. But any camera I've swallowed was destroyed within a few minutes." They STILL had the recordings from that planet he swallowed. Geez, you eat a planet once and people refuse to let you forget it.

Stan noticed that MizBill was looking a little uncomfortable when Sixer insisted once again to at least see their mouth again. "I-it’s not that interesting! It’s just a mouth! Which is also my eye!" MizBill glowed orange, flustered and wiggling in midair.

At that, Stan spoke up, knowing his ‘twin’ wouldn’t stop unless being told firmly and straight-out: "Hey, no means no." ...And Lee was already smacking his twin’s shoulder with an annoyed look on his face, as well.

Bill frowned as he watched his sister, and that ‘Ford. He got up and crouched down in front of the teenager, glaring at him. "KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER," Bill told ‘Ford, getting right up in his face. (He did _not_ look pleased. ...Neither did ‘that Stanford’, who was watching them both.)

Sixer looked disappointed, and (only a little bit) rueful as he raised both hands up a bit, palms outward in (temporary) surrender, even as Lee groaned at his (apparently) suicidal brother. Seriously, over-protective older demon here!

Bill glared at the younger Ford for a long moment, then two, then three. Then he finally stood back up and took the few steps he needed to, to sit down next to where his little sister was floating, again. "You need to be more assertive," Bill said simply, to said little sister, reaching up to gather him down into his lap, gently (and not quite caging him in with his arms). And he said it because he knew MizBill was going to get into trouble if he didn’t. ‘Ford would think that he could get away with things if he just pushed enough, otherwise.

MizBill seemed to pout, his large eye being quite expressive, "Like, how? I don’t want to offend him."

"HA," Bill scoffed. "Who cares about offending _him?_ \--He should be caring more about not offending _YOU!_ \--You don’t like what he’s asking, so just say so. _HE_ is the one in the wrong, for not stopping at no. No means no. You said no."

MizBill wiggled again. "But I want him to be my friend. So, how do I turn him down if I also don’t want him to dislike me?"

Bill frowned. "If you want to be Stanley’s human-definition of ’friends’ with someone, and they don’t listen to ‘no’, then that should DISQUALIFY them from the being-friends. No means no. Even if you _think_ you _maybe_ want to be friends with someone," Bill stressed, as Stan looked on with a bit of surprise. (He hadn’t thought he’d quite gotten through to the kid all the way on that one, as of yet.)

"Well kid, you’ve got that one right," Stan said for his part, pretty firmly, sending a hard look over at the younger Ford, as he made sure that all the kids were hearing it. This was something pretty damn important, in Stan’s book -- since it was one of the few (if only) reasons why and how Stan had managed to convince the kid _not_ to contact his demon-friends yet in the first place. (Mainly, that the kid’s idea of ‘friends’ had sucked and that the kid needed -- and could get -- much better friends than that.) And this had Stan a little worried, as he was beginning to get the idea that MizBill might be in even more danger of being taken advantage of by other people than he’d originally even thought that the kid might be able to be taken advantage of as-is, in the wrong hands.

As if picking up on Stan’s unhappy thoughts, MizBill turned to him and pouted some more. "I know how to refuse people I don’t like! But Sixer’s a friend."

"Not if he’s trying to get you to do things you don’t want to do, when he knows you don’t want to do it, he’s not," Stan told her firmly, sending another glare the younger Ford’s way. (His brother had been kind of bad about that junk sometimes, but he was absolutely horrible at it, pushing at people’s boundaries like that; nobody had ever really put up with or fallen for his junk. ...And, y’know, clearly his brother had grown out of that stupidity in college, or later, or _something_. Ford never tried to pull that shit with anybody anymore, not even as a joke. Whatever had happened with the kid when he’d been a triangle demon, and that whole ‘deal’ thing, had clearly been a whole ‘nother thing entirely; Ford clearly _hadn’t_ known what he was doing at the time.)

Lee sighed. So the demon-dragon-lady thought they were all friends? Well, he wasn’t sure if he should correct her on that. He still gave Sixer an unhappy frown, because that just wasn’t cool.

MizBill nodded. "Okay." He (sliding seamlessly into she, mentally) nuzzled back into her brother’s chest. "I’m fine with petting along my head. I don’t like foreign objects that aren’t food inserted inside me," she told Sixer firmly. "That one time with Pyronica was because I was curious, but I didn’t like it and I don’t want to do that again."

Bill blinked as MizBill performed her shift. "...Bow not bowtie?" Bill murmured, a bit confused. (He’d caught the ever-so-slight shift in apparel -- but nothing else, since they weren’t in the Mindscape or Dreamscape and he couldn’t read minds as he was -- not without further magical or scientific intervention.) MizBill snuggled against him, glowing softly. "I’m in female-mode right now. I’ll probably switch it around later, again."

"Mm," said Bill, registering ‘girl’ as her gender now. "Let me know?" _Clearly_ he was bad at guessing -- he’d just thought she’d wanted to change clothing-accessories again! He pulled in his arms a little closer (crossed across his chest and also MizBill) and ran his fingers lightly along her lower outer sides, up and down, soothingly.

MizBill closed her eye and rumbled softly. This was nice. Brother wasn’t as soft as Xanthar, but his hugs were nice too.

Bill’s eyelids lowered a bit and he let out a soft breath. This… wasn’t _exactly_ like getting ‘hugged’ back by his brother when he’d been a triangle? But it was _sort of_ close… (He let out another soft sigh and relaxed a little bit further. He wasn’t really touching MizBill any harder than he’d have touched another shape or line just then -- a bit of pressure, but easily pushed against and released, and nothing anywhere close to being able to crumple a very fragile Flatlander.)

Lee stared before leaning over to ask Stan. "Eh, is she purring?" he whispered. Stan shrugged. Hell if he knew. (All he knew was that the kid was humming a bit, like he did sometimes when he was half-asleep in the chair and Stan rubbed his fingers against this temples instead of on top of his head.) The two demon-kids both looked pretty relaxed, though.

Stan checked the time and huffed. "Hey, you kids better get to bed now. You’ve all got school again tomorrow." He glanced over at the younger twins. "You’ve _both_ finished all your homework an’ stuff, yeah?" Stan stressed, leveling a look at the two of them, both.

Lee rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Miz made sure I finished my homework," he grumbled. "She’s more pushy than Ma…"

"Yeah? Well, be glad _she_ was the one pushin’ and not _me_ ," Stan told his younger self, to a short groan from Lee. He didn’t get any more backtalk from either Lee or Sixer, as they both stood up and headed down below-decks, though. He and Ford got to their own feet, and Stan sent the kid a glance. (...Yeah, okay. Kid got the message too. Good.) He headed to the hatch and down the ladder after Ford himself.

"Mm," said Bill, taking his time at the ‘getting to bed’. He didn’t exactly poke MizBill to get her attention, but he did stop what he was doing that was making her purr-hum along with his own humming. "Should maybe go back to one human-ish form or another for the sleeping. Easier," he told her, opening his arms up a bit (in preparation to accommodate a larger form if she did it on the spot).

MizBill blinked her eye open. "Okay." She shifted back into Miz, appearing in Bill’s lap already in her pajamas (just an oversized t-shirt, with shorts).

"You want to stay female for now? Or male?" Bill asked her directly, rubbing at one eye a bit tiredly, as he looked down at her.

"Female for now, I’ll be male tomorrow at school." Miz yawned.

Bill nodded. Then he glanced down and added, "Breast-resizing?" (He wasn’t teasing, just asking out of what he himself would classify as an emotion of ‘concern’.)

Miz pouted. "I don’t mind them for short amounts of time, they’re fun to touch. But having them that big all day is heavy."

"Yes," Bill agreed, "Heavy-heavy. ...You can change them back-and-forth now yourself, yes? You Saw how I did it?" he asked her quite seriously, slowly pulling away from her and getting to his feet, walking casually over to the side of the deck where the sandcastle was. (Stan had not quite banished the two demon-kids to the sandcastle the next morning, after Bill had woken up; he’d coached it as the much better option for the two of them instead of the blankets below-decks, while the rest of them had sleeping bags, though. Mostly, Stan had just not wanted to have to worry about the twins sneaking up onto deck and maybe getting into trouble with the thing, if he didn’t have the two demon-kids using it and having a reason to want to lock it all down.)

Miz nodded. "Yup. I should be able to do age shifts myself based on what you’ve shown me, will need to practice them to get them to look right. But I can go back and forth between this--" she gestured at her current child-self, "--and the larger form easily now." Now, all the in between were another story, if she ever wanted to make herself look like she was aging normally like a human, it would be a pain to have to make each in between stage, but she knew HOW to do it now.

Bill nodded and smiled, proud that his little sister was such a fast learner! He patted her head gently as they stopped at the (enlargened) sandcastle entrance on the deck. "Good job," he told her. Miz beamed up at him, making Bill feel a little warm ~~(...happy?)~~ inside.

Miz crawled into the sand castle and set about building another ‘nest’ out of pillows and blankets. Bill crawled in shortly after her, set the ‘lock’ that Stanley had seemed to want, and then waited patiently for Miz to finish what she was doing.) Once Miz shuffled around and fluffed the pillows just right, she settled down and sighed. "Good night brother, I love you." She yawned as she snuggled into her nest.

"I love you, too," Bill told her with a tired smile, as he spider-crawled his way over the pillows and blankets, to settle down at her back, back-to-back again as they usually did these days.

Miz hummed quietly as she wiggled to press against Bill. She was quickly growing used to this, sleeping with her brother. Knowing he was there. Knowing she wasn’t alone.

Bill relaxed completely as he felt his little sister at his back. She was there, he knew where she was; she was safe ~~(with him)~~ , and everything was...

And Bill fell asleep just that quickly, lying there, mid-thought.

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: MizBill has been trying to stay in one form just to confuse people less, but they're happiest with switching things up
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  :)
> 
> ...In case anybody was wondering, it's a lot easier for most humans to empathize with other humans than species like insects or bugs or birds, or even dolphins and chimpanzees. Because biology. So one could extrapolate that it would probably also be true that it's likely a lot easier for most aliens (of a certain type, say, a being of pure energy?) to empathize with other aliens of the same type (e.g., other beings of pure energy) far more easily than with (non-energy lifeform) species like insects or bugs or birds, or even dolphins and chimpanzees. ...or humans. Because "biology". (Or the cycling-wavelength-energy-makeup equivalent thereof.) _For reasons._
> 
> ;)


	15. Chapter 84: I will take take offerings in the form of bent forks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> A long needed talk and the 2nd day at school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 95 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/45310930). It was first posted on Jun 3, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\-------

When Stan went above deck, the first one awake, he wasn’t surprised to see Miz (in her child form) already cooking something on the frying pan over the camping stove, humming to herself. The door of the sandcastle was not only open wide, but had been ‘enbiggened’, allowing Stan to see inside where Bill was lying among some pillows and blankets near the entrance. Miz herself was seated close to the sandcastle, in clear view for Bill to see. The kid looked asleep though.

"Morning," Miz greeted without looking up from whatever she was making. Stan grunted out a, "Mornin’ Miz," back to her as he walked over, kind of half-curious to see what she was up to. "This is for Bill," she hummed out as she pointed at the frying pan, and Stan looked into the pan to see what exactly she was making for her brother.

It was a pile of vegetables.

Yep. That was definitely a thing that the kid would eat, right there. No mushrooms or anythin’ else in sight; just water and veggies. Stan glanced up at Miz.

"Hey, dragon-lady," Stan said, "Got somethin’ to ask ya, yeah?" He waited until she looked up at him before he continued. "If you want to go off cookin’ stuff for the kid whenever, that’s fine. But at least let me pay for the goods you’re buyin’ to use to make it all, yeah?"

Miz frowned at him a little. "But I can just make everything from sand," Miz said. "You don’t have to pay for anything!" She wagged her tail; she liked being able to help! She was even saving Stan some money this way!

"Yeah, I know you can, kid," Stan told her, sitting down in front of her for the moment. "But that ain’t really the point." At her confused look, he said, "Look, doin’ this sand-stuff tires you out, and then you’ve gotta eat a lot more. The kid don’t like that, and I ain’t so sure that that’s a great thing for ya, too. Besides," Stan said, sweetening the pot, "If you get the veggies from the supermarket with my money, then every time you go over there, you get to see more veggies that are a little different from each other, right?"

Miz thought about it. "Oh." Her tail wiggled a little as she frowned. But then she tilted her head at him. "...Why do you really want me to not do it?"

Stan gave out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Because you’re kinda undermining me with the kid, here," he told her flat-out. "I’m supposed to be giving him food, clothing, shelter, and schooling. If you’re doin’ it for me, and I ain’t takin’ care of you completely -- which I ain’t doin’ yet, for him," because she was the kid’s family, "-- then I ain’t holdin’ up my end of things."

Miz blinked. "Ooooooooh…" she said in understanding. "So you want to be the dad?"

Stan snorted. Hell, no! "No, kid. I want to keep my promise to the kid. It’s one thing if you go off doin’ it once in awhile," Stan said. "But it’s a whole ‘nother thing if I ain’t coverin’ you as part of it; not completely." Stan shrugged. "The way the kid thinks, if I’m not feedin’ you enough to cover what you’re usin’ up making that food that you can cook for him, I’m not actually helping him, or you, out. --And I ain’t so sure that you workin’ yourself into half-starving yourself every single day is such a great thing there, either," Stan told her next. The kid sure wasn’t all that sure about it; if anything, the kid was worried about that whole thing with her, still.

Miz nodded. "Okay. So I just do my thing _sometimes_ and you do your thing _more times_." That was fine. And if she really got hungry, or her powers started acting up because of too many things falling on one side or another for her ‘good’ vs ‘bad’ meter, she could go off and deal with that on her own.

"Yeah," Stan said. "If by ‘more times’ you mean lettin’ me cover you. And, y’know, maybe _try_ and lay off on all the weirdness-magic stuff a little more. When was the last time you did that, anyway?" he asked her. "Just, y’know, took it easy and didn’t use it all that much?" Because Stan was honestly wondering at this point… "Do you _gotta_ use it, or something?" He scratched at the side of his cheek. Seriously, she was so different on this stuff than the kid, that it was really making him wonder...

Miz rubbed her arms. "I feel itchy if I don’t. I’m pretty sure my powers and brother’s powers work somewhat differently from each other." Bill certainly didn’t seem to get restless and uncomfortable from energy build up.

"Itchy," Stan repeated with a frown. "Like… scratchy? Like you gotta scratch at yourself, or somethin’?"

Miz frowned. "Like I gotta tear myself open. Using up energy lessens the feeling. But then I get hungry, so it’s just a weird balance of being filled with energy without going over…"

Stan’s eyebrows went up. That sounded like… Oh hell, that _didn’t_ sound good.

Miz shrugged. "Getting unhappy makes the itching worse. But if I’m happy, it’s just a little bit of discomfort, and I use up my power with small things here and there often enough it’s not a problem."

The next words out of Stan’s mouth were, "You haven’t told the kid this, have you."

Miz sighed. "I have a lot of issues," she pointed out. "I know I do. But it’s… not that bad. I think some of this discomfort is because I can still remember being human and not having these feelings as a human, so this feels weird for me. Or maybe I’m translating it in some odd way through my perceptions of what these sensations are. Like, maybe the human part of me equates this buzzing of energy as an itch from inside me."

Stan let out a breath and rubbed a hand across his face. "Miz. Kid. Listen to me for a second, okay?" he told her. Miz gave him her full attention. "You need to talk to the kid about this," Stan told her. "I may not get _half_ of what the kid says sometimes," Stan explained, "But the kid? He’s all about ‘efficiency’ with what he’s doin’, but he also talks a lot about ‘balancing’ energy out," Stan let her know. "He ain’t real happy with how you keep getting yourself stuck in this cycle-thing with the eating." Stan frowned. "I don’t think the kid would be pushin’ you so hard on this stuff if he knew there was a reason you were doin’ it. And if you tell him about this ‘issue’ you’re having here, he can probably do somethin’ for you," Stan said. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "I dunno. Whatever whole translating problem you’re having, here. Didn’t he just help you with something like that last night?" With the tasting thing? Weren’t those kind of the same thing, feeling or not feeling something that was off from when she’d been human?

Miz looked even more uncomfortable now. She glanced back at Bill’s sleeping form. "Well, the other part of it… is because this isn’t my own Dimensional Set. So it costs more energy to do stuff, and I’m still adjusting to the difference, and probably overestimating how much I’m using or generating."

"Yeah," Stan said, "But that just means it’s only gonna keep gettin’ worse if you keep on doin’ the same thing here, ain’t it? That’s just gonna get you into trouble," he pointed out to her. "Maybe you don’t think this stuff is all that big of a problem, but the kid sure does, and I ain’t so sure that he’s wrong." Stan frowned at her a little bit. "Maybe make up a list for us, yeah?" At her odd look, Stan said, "Y’know. Of all the stuff that ain’t so great that you don’t like. Stuff you wish wasn’t a thing? --Kid’s practically screaming to be your fairy god-triangle or somethin’, here," Stan said with half a rueful smile at her. "Seems to make him happy when he can help you out, and you seem happier, too." It sure as hell made the kid more manageable; kid was a lot easier to handle when he was relaxed -- Miz, too.

Miz nodded. "I guess, I got used to the discomfort, so doing stuff to fix it just didn’t occur to me…"

Stan nodded at her. "Yeah, I kinda got that. Not so sure the kid has, yet." Otherwise, Stan would bet that the kid would’ve asked her -- if not outright grilled her -- on anything and everything that made her ‘uncomfortable’ by now. "Might as well get the kid to help you with this stuff, since he’s wanting to do it," Stan shrugged.

Miz then frowned at Stan. "Aren’t you like that with your back pains?" she asked skeptically.

"Huh?" Stan said, a bit thrown by the change in subject.

Miz huffed. "You’re in pain all the time, and we can help, me, brother or even that Stanford. But you don’t want us to help you fix it."

Stan pulled a bit of a frowny-face and looked away from Miz for a minute. "Look, Miz--" he began.

Miz’s expression was _very_ skeptical.

"Hey, I ain’t bein’ a hypocrite here," Stan complained at her. "It’s one thing to be makin’ things hurt less for a little while, so I can’t feel whatever. But that ain’t actually fixing anything. --The kid might help you find a way to make things feel like they itch less? But he ain’t gonna leave it at that," Stan told her. "Kid ain’t stupid. If that ‘itching’ of yours means that you’re actually injured or something there, that somethin’ worse is wrong? Kid’ll want to fix _that_ , not just make you stop feeling it." Stan looked pretty grumpy as he said next, "It ain’t the same thing with me. I’m gettin’ old. I go doin’ something stupid, I’d _better_ feel it in the morning, or I’ll just keep goin’ on makin’ things worse."

"Cells can be repaired. You can be old and NOT in pain. It’s EASY." Miz pouted. Her friends were still living creatures, they were old, but they weren’t AGED. There was a difference!

"I’m old, I’m wearin’ out," Stan told her. "This is normal. Don’t make any sense tryin’ to fix it. You’ll never end up stopping." Stan scratched at his cheek. "I ain’t some kinda well-tuned machine here." Not anymore. "You can’t just go off ‘fixin’ my back, and everything’s fine." He let out a sigh. "That’s like…" he frowned, searching for a way to put it. "...The whole broom thing. Wearin’ a broom out after usin’ it too long. You go off and replace that broomstick head with stainless steel brushes? And the stick handle part’s still made of wood. _That’s_ just askin’ to break, when you try to go off doin’ stuff that head can handle, but the rest of it can’t." (Because if his back felt better, Stan knew he’d probably end up doing something stupid, and hurting an arm or leg instead, pulling muscles and who knew what else. He wasn’t seventeen anymore.)

"So then that handle breaks," Stan told her, "And then you gotta go off replacin’ that, too? And then you’ve got a whole new broomstick, there," Stan complained. "Kid goes off tryin to ‘fix’ me?" Stan added, "He’ll want to do it ‘right’ the ‘first time’, probably," and Stan wasn’t so sure about that one, let alone the kid’s idea of ‘fixing’ anything at all. Let alone _him_. (And who the hell knew _what_ Ford would think of that… not that Ford was any better, with all his 99-year lightbulbs and food pills and junk.)

Miz thought about it. "Well, I think he just wants to keep you," she pointed out, not noticing Stan’s slight grimace at her choice of words.

"Uh…" Stan wasn’t sure what to say to that, other than... "Not on a mantlepiece somewhere," Stan put out there (after a good long pause at what he should or shouldn’t say). At least, the kid _better_ not be. "I ain’t lookin’ to be turned into gold. Or stone." Stan remembered that throne of human statues on the TV during that Weirdmageddon mess. And how Ford had been left perched there in all his ‘golden glory’ there on that armrest, right on top of it.

"Naw, nothing like that." Miz scoffed. "He likes you being you. Alive and aware and able to go about being you."

Well, that just made Stan feel uncomfortable. "Yeah, sure. But for how long," Stan huffed out, half-joking, because people usually got tired of him pretty quick. Stan _still_ didn’t really get that about the triangle; hell, he was half-expecting the kid to outgrow him, eventually, once he got the kid some better standards.

Miz gave Stan a smile. But she didn’t say anything.

...And that had Stan looking at her. "What?" Stan said grumpily.

"He likes you." Miz said simply. "He doesn’t want to lose you, or the Agreement."

"What, not ever?" Stan said with a huff, but he really only meant it tongue-in-cheek. Because hell, that was "Kind of the whole point of the thing, yeah?" -- holding it for the kids, and Ford, so that they didn’t have to worry about the triangle bein’ all, y’know, demon-y on them -- but...

...then Stan remembered what-all the kid (and the dragon lady) had said about bringing people back to life, the rolling-back-time thing; the whole nine yards.

_’You’re mine. You want to be mine!’_

There hadn’t been any limits there. Not for time, not for distance; no, nothing. And Stan _was_ prepared to stick around forever if he had to, to keep his family safe from him, sure, but...

...he hadn’t thought about the ‘making them younger again’ thing past the kids getting too old, growing up away from home, if they’d had to end up staying _here_ too long. He hadn’t really thought about the kid maybe doing that to Ford… or to him. Not beyond getting them back to the way they’d been when they might’ve tried to escape him _now_. Not to... make him any healthier that he was already -- but, hell, ‘healthy’ at his age? He’d have to be ten years younger than he already was, to...

...to look the same age as Ford was now. Stan blinked. Because that was...

_Could_ the kid could make him the same age as Ford again? Or... even _younger?_

Oh, hell. Wasn't that something Miz had said she’d done to _her_ friends?

And the triangle demons were learning from each other. They listened to each other. So even if the kid hadn’t thought of that _before_ he and the dragon-lady had ‘adopted’ each other...

Stan stared off into the distance as all this really dawned on him. ...And he really wasn’t all that sure about any of it. (Getting younger? --Aches and pains and dentures be damned, he’d _earned_ his old age, _and_ his retirement, damnit. He wouldn’t want to go through all _that_ again… not **any** of it. _Hell_ , no.)

Miz was raising an eyebrow at Stan before going back to her cooking. "I’ll tell brother I’m having trouble with balancing my energies," she conceded to him. "I know he worries, I like knowing he cares. But I feel kinda bad about making him worry all the same. Like how sometimes one would want to keep their issues to themselves, because one wouldn’t want to upset the people around them, I guess."

"Only issues I keep to myself are my comic books under my bed," Stan told her gruffly, but he got what she was trying to poke at a bit, there -- he was old, not slow. "There's stuff I don’t want you talkin’ about to the kids because it would hurt ‘em," he stressed to her, "But your brother ain’t the same way. Even if it does… make him ‘hurt’ a little bit about something goin’ on with you, I’m pretty sure ‘hurt’ on the kid is just another kind of ‘angry’." Stan shrugged. "He’ll go after the problem, and side-step the pain. --Probably hurt worse if you go on and _don’t_ go telling him, once he finds out later," Stan put out there. "Just hit him all-at-once later, when he figures it out later. --‘Cause you know he will _eventually_ , and then he’ll be all ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ and junk with you, yeah?" Stan said. "You don’t want to be doing _that_ to him, now, do ya?" Stan asked her with a bit of a smile on his face, as he reached out and patted her on the head.

"I don’t…" Miz mumbled, but... "It’ll just take forever!" she huffed. "I’ve got several billion years’ worth of issues! It’d take a lifetime just to even talk about it all!" Heck, she wasn’t even sure what all of it was anymore.

"Kid’s a couple hundred billion years older than you," Stan pointed out to her, leaning back again. "Plans on living forever. What’s a lifetime or two, when you’re talkin’ infinity? You’ve got time, right? The both of you?" Even Stan figured he could handle that kind of math. "If you’ve really gotta bounce to another dimension for awhile to talk... " Stan frowned a little. "I ain’t so sure about having the kid go off on his own, spend a year or two just talking with you and then bouncing back to us just five minutes from when he left," the kid was big on ‘five minutes’ for some reason; Stan would’ve thought the kid would go for three, "But if you two need some time? We can work somethin’ out." At least, Stan figured they could. (Might take awhile, though.)

Miz looked surprised at that. "You’d let him go? Like… off on his own?" And the idea of bringing brother home with her was just so TEMPTING. She had to push down her urge to just snatch Bill up and take him. Keep him forever and ever...

"I don’t want him goin’ off and getting himself killed," Stan told her firmly. " _Or_ gettin’ into fights he can’t win, and pulling them back to the rest of us, maybe getting the kids killed on top of that. --Ford don’t like the idea of him runnin’ around at all, but I just don’t like it unsupervised. Kid listens to me; we’ve talked about this before," Stan told her, "And so far he’s been lettin’ me talk him out of the stupid stuff. But if I’m not with him…" Stan sighed, "Right now, that just goes right out the window. ...I don’t know. If I can figure somethin’ out for him to touch base with me, or somethin’? Then I’ll figure something out with Ford. But that a whole ‘nother thing there, that we’re gonna have to figure out for the agreement," Stan told her. "Boundaries. When to run. When not to. How to keep himself outta trouble that he really can’t handle. I don’t like the idea of somebody not havin’ his back," Stan told her, for more reason than one, "And, uh, no offense, but you’ve, y’know. ‘Got issues’," Stan told her. "I ain’t so sure the two of you can handle things all by yourselves. --Hell, you had enough trouble tellin’ Sixer ‘no’, right here and now, last night, and he’s practically a pushover," Stan pointed out. "And if I wasn’t here, kid would probably just would’ve gone off torching him without a second thought, for pissing you off even a little." And Stan wasn’t about to have the kid start falling back into old bad habits again -- not if _he_ could help it. That’d just make things harder for _him_ , later.

Miz nodded. "Fair enough. I’m fine on my own, but that’s mostly because I don’t really care when bad things happen to me. But brother would be upset. And if I got hurt, I wouldn’t be there to help him if anything else happened."

Stan nodded. "And the kid ain’t too good at thinking up other options when it comes to you, sometimes," Stan put out there, too. "You know, the kid didn’t even think of the whole Door thing with you and the portal getting back, yeah? That wasn’t just him putting on a thing for Ford," Stan told her. "He really couldn’t even think of it." Not yet. "Kid’s got blind spots. He ain’t used to thinking this way, with you, here. --I don’t want the kid freezing up if he goes off someplace with you, and I ain’t there to snap him out of it." Stan frowned. "That means ‘planning’ for him, here, while I’m around to help him out with that stuff. We’ll need to talk things out, so he don’t get blindsided later," if it was even going to be a thing at all.

...And Stan wasn’t putting it past either of them that it _was_ going to be a thing. He had a feeling that the two of them were going to end up wanting to go haring off on their own, sooner or later -- just like they had after the niblings when they’d all first arrived in this dimension, here. They hadn’t waited two seconds for him and Ford to get their bearings; they’d just gone rushing off without them both. And _that_ had been a big-ass blinking red warning sign, right there. (So he figured he’d _better_ put something in place with them first, before they were already away in a completely different dimension than the rest of them, and in the middle of deciding whether to come back or not on their own. Because then? The kid just might end up changing his mind about the agreement and everything else while he and his kid-sister were away from them, talking about who-knew-what to hell-knew-who.)

Miz thought about the ‘touching base with him’ idea for a moment or two, planning ahead, and then made a decision. "I’ll modify my Com to be able to call your phone… if you have a cell phone I can modify? I can connect with Bill’s through my blog, but there’s a time lag…"

"Sure." Stan reached in his back pocket and pulled out his cellphone, then handed it over. "Be careful with it," he told her. "The kid did something to it, so that I can get at some weird laggy blog of his that he’s been writing to on that thing, too. Just in case. --I ain’t real sure about what he did to it," Stan told her, as he took it from him. "Something about making it ‘unique’ so things could get ‘beamed’ back and forth to the thing. You screw that ‘uniqueness’ thing up, the beaming thing stops -- whatever it is he set up can’t find it," he related to her, not quite word-for-word from what the kid had told him.

"Transdimensional adapter." Miz mumbled as she turned the phone around in her hands. This _wasn’t_ like her own Com. Whatever her brother had done to it didn’t seem to have changed the phone itself much. She scanned through the changes Bill _had_ made. Increased amplitude, signal strength, the battery was being bypassed right then and the charge was coming from… huh. He hadn’t actually gotten rid of the power use, he’d just set it all up to act like it was always plugged into the wall. He had something rejuvenating the battery itself intermittently, too. And then he’d also... this was really good work actually. Bill had worked with what was there, and he hadn’t actually made that many changes to the base hardware or software at all. Whatever was getting beamed in was pretty much using the same hardware -- the antenna was even still original; Miz was going to either have to change that to make the adapter work, or create her own and… "I’ll add my Com ID number. Save it in your contacts. You can show it to Brother later so he can put it in his too. There’ll still be some lag, it just happens, but we can text." Stan nodded at her, as she thought over all this.

Miz looked over this setup one more time, and then decided to go her brother’s route; she grabbed a chunk of air and sand particles and made a small external adapter with a USB connector on it, thinking that it could ‘plug-and-play’ into the charge port and let the phone connect to things that way. That way, the transdimensional adapter was almost identical to the one that she’d set up for herself but separate (with hers, she’d integrated it into her own Com completely). Now she’d just need to set up an app and a driver in the smartphone O/S that would let the rest of the smartphone recognize it, and… okay, maybe she should really make an actual adapter board for the USB part, so the USB interface could talk to the adapter instead of having to connect to the alien hardware _directly_. Doing a direct connection between the smartphone and the alien tech would risk the external adapter maybe frying the phone if the voltages went a _little_ too high on that end (because they kind of tended to do that sometimes with this adapter model), and... um...

...how did she do that, exactly? Miz blinked, then Flickered, looking for information on how to actually program this USB-adapter-part thing (using a human programming language, even!). Uuuuuh she was getting bored just linking all the codes together. This is why she normally left the manual programming work up to Hectorgon, it was so boooooring~ but she powered through the input and pressed the Call button to see if it worked. Her Com buzzed. "Cool. It works."

Stan took his phone back with a lopsided smile, looking the screen over. "Thanks, kid." He figured giving him a way to call her (when the kid was probably with her) was as good of a first step as any. He slid the phone back into a pocket, and Miz went back to her cooking. Stan (for his part) turned to the crate next to him, looking for the breakfast goods he’d need to cook for the human contingent on-board the boat, but he still watched Miz with half-an-eye as she cooked.

Miz mashed some strawberries into a pulp and added those to the pan as well. It sizzled and hissed, the juices being cooked out as the water was extracted from the fruit to seep into the veggies and boil around them. She placed a cover over the pan to let it steam cook on top of the dry roasting from earlier.

"...You are gonna make up that list for the two of us, right?" Stan reminded her, just in case. She seemed to bounce between things a bit more than the kid, and she didn’t always seem to come back to them on her own like the kid always did.

"Yeah, list of everything wrong with me, got it." Miz shrugged.

"Hey, none of that," Stan chided her, looking over at her. "Things of stuff that’s uncomfortable, or worse, that you don’t like. Never said ‘everything wrong with you’, or whatever."

Miz nodded, pulling out a notebook from her school bag to begin writing while she waited for the food to finish cooking. "Sorry, just… I get down on myself a lot…"

Yeah, Stan had kinda noticed. "Maybe add that one to the list," Stan said. "Some of this stuff could be a therapist thing for later, maybe." Stan sighed. "...I’m thinkin’ the kids took you to the market yesterday?" Stan asked next to try and change the topic to something a little lighter now, because the last thing he needed was a depressed demon on his hands. And hey, those certainly looked like the fruits and veggies he was used to seein’ at the store whenever he went. "What all did you find to look at over there? Anything good?"

Miz nodded, brightening up a little bit. "I got lettuce, kale, spinach, corn, cucumbers…" and she continued naming off everything she had scanned while Stan shoved himself over a little more, to really be able to dig around in the nearby cooler to get out the rest of the stuff he was going to need to make breakfast for everyone else, once Miz was done cooking. He just let her ramble on, with half an ear on what she was sayin’; she wasn’t hurtin’ nobody. "...paprika, basil, cinnamon, pesto…"

Stan pulled out the pancake mix. Should work fine for breakfast. "...white vinegar, brown sugar, vanilla…" Stan was probably going to wake up the kid to have that talk soon, before everyone else woke up. "...mozzarella, feta, swiss, parmesan…" What Stan wasn’t as sure about was whether he should try and tell the kid to put up one of those filters to keep his kid sister from listening in on the whole thing, or not.

"--Hey, Miz?" Stan interrupted, because he’d just realized something in all of Miz’s rambling. "There a reason you didn’t say ‘peppers’ or ‘pepper’ or anything?" Because she hadn’t, not the actual fruit, and not the spice neither; she’d mentioned ‘lemon pepper spice’ kind of randomly, but nothing else involving ‘pepper’. Stan had really only noticed because she had said ‘salt’ at one point, but hadn’t followed it up with ‘pepper’ next like anybody else would. But the kid liked pepper, so leaving that out specifically had had Stan paying attention, wondering when she’d finally get around to saying ‘pepper’ as part of her spices-aisle list. ...Except she hadn’t; she’d gotten past listing off spices, and when she’d gotten to the fruits, that had made Stan realize when she hadn’t mentioned peppers then, either.

Miz winced and looked… guilty. "I don’t like peppers," she said bashfully. Stan couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter -- because, heh, that was kind of funny, almost.

"But it’s one of those healthy veggies or somethin’, right?" Stan couldn’t help but tease.

Miz whined. "But they taste gross~ they’re all… green tasting…" She waved her arms around, struggling to find the words to explain why peppers were bad. Stan just let out a laugh again.

"But what if the kid likes ‘em? Or your friends?" Stan teased. "He doesn’t like salt or sugar, but he _does_ like pepper." It was one of the few things the kid ever added to his burnt-to-hell-and-back toast, when he ate it. "And maybe your friends might like the veggie kind. --Thought you liked knowin’ stuff," like the kid did. "Just in case?" he grinned at her, then gave her a wink, and he let out another good-natured chuckle as she straight up _pouted_ at him for it. "I’ll scan some next time I go to the store…" she mumbled, and Stan let out another chuckle, and patted her on the head again. She really was tryin’ to be a good kid for her brother and her friends.

Then Stan looked away from her and over, as the noise outside finally had the kid stirring a little inside the sandcastle, himself. "-ic, mrrrr. mmrmM?" The kid rolled over -- from his side onto his back and then back again -- and blinked blearily. He rotated his head around oddly, pushing against the floor with the side of his head, and... his eyes sharpened almost immediately as his gaze fell on Miz. --And then the kid relaxed again, slowly going almost limp in place. Huh.

Stan watched as Miz turned towards her brother and waved. "Morning big brother~" she chirped out. She turned back to the frying pan and stirred the vegetables around a little more before she seemed satisfied. "I made you breakfast," she told him, pulling a bowl out of nowhere that Stan could see, to scoop the roasted vegetables into.

Stan noted that even with the limits of no added salt or butter and whatever, Miz’s vegetable mix actually looked kinda not all that bad. The veggies were all a little black around the edges, but not that ‘really badly burnt’ black like the kid always did with his toast; it just looked to Stan like the things had been cooked pretty thoroughly. (Miz had roasted them quite professionally, actually.) If anybody asked Stan, he would eat it, but he wasn’t completely sure that the kid himself would. The stuff smelled kinda sweet almost, and ‘no added sugar’ and most sugary kinds of things were pretty solidly on the kid’s ‘no’ list. (Stan was pretty sure honey was on the ‘no’ list, too, with the faces the kid had made over it before.) As Stan examined the bowl more closely, trying to figure out if Miz had accidentally messed up and added any sugar to the mix or not.

"I used the natural water and juices inside the strawberries to boil the veggies in, so they have a bit of flavor to them and aren’t burnt to a crisp despite the high temperature and longer cooking time," Miz told Bill, as he spider-crawled his way out of the sandcastle; she sounded incredibly proud of herself and her cooking feats. (Yeah, okay. Stan figured that might explain it, then.)

Bill, for his part, smiled at her and patted her on top of her head. "Thanks sis." Bill tilted his head at her. "Have YOU eaten yet?"

Miz nodded. "A seagull tried to steal some food earlier so I ate it." Stan did a double-take before letting out a sigh and getting back to mixing his pancake batter. Miz said she didn’t like to eat ‘people’, so Stan was hoping he wouldn’t have to ask for clarification on the topic of… yeah, no. He’d better just ask her, "Uh, dragon-lady. If a human ever tries stealin’ food from you, you ain’t gonna eat them for it, right?"

To Stan’s relief, Miz just huffed. "I won’t eat them, but I would be pretty unhappy. Might scold them for it. But if they were hungry and didn’t have their own food or any way to get their own food, I’d share."

Stan nodded, and said, "Yeah. Sounds like a plan. Think I’d rather get a scolding if I accidentally grabbed the wrong fish outta the cooler after fishing, if you came back with your own catch, too," he told her, to try and set her thinking about ‘accidents’ a little bit, too. Then Stan turned to the kid -- who was sitting down, examining the bowl that his sister had given him (staring at it, then doing something at his wrist?) before grabbing a fork and starting to eat it (with no complaints, but not exactly exclaiming over the taste there, either; not that the kid had ever done that, that Stan had seen).

...Yeah, he was gonna have to do this with the both of them, wasn’t he. Stan let out a sigh. Hell, last thing he needed was the kid thinking Stan was trying to keep secrets from each of them, or telling the two of them different things.

"Kid, it’s later," Stan started off with, "And we need to talk." Once he saw he had the kid’’s attention, he said, "What was that whole ‘helping’ thing with you and the teach about?"

Miz looked over at her brother curiously.

Bill looked up at Stanley. "He was interesting, and he wanted to know. It wasn’t going to be a waste of time to try and tell him anything, and beings like him are fun. _They_ actually LISTEN to me. _Properly_. --I like to help them learn," Bill said next, before shoving another forkful of veggies into his mouth and chewing.

Miz looked back and forth between the two men before she Flickered to see what they were talking about. She stilled. Oh. "Oops…" She suddenly realized that their art teacher was probably doing something similar to what had happened with their physics teacher and Bill...

"...’Oops’?" Stan said next, moving from staring at the kid like he’d never seen him before, to looking over at Miz with a frown. "What ‘oops’." He glanced between the two demons. "You seen something like this before, Miz?" Stan tried, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Miz ducked her head in guilt. "I think I might have done something similar to brother… but with the art teacher…" She checked quickly, Flickering to see how that poor woman was doing… oh, she was sleeping in her office… covered in charcoal dust… ah… at least she DID seem to have gotten some food and sleep? Though that was more because she had some snacks in her office and then she passed out...

"We _are_ both very inspiring!" Bill said, quite happily, before he took another bite.

Stan ran a hand over his face and stifled a groan. ...Okay. Okay. So this was apparently a ‘thing’. With the _both_ of them. ...Thanks, Ford. _Great_ warning there. Center of your world and everything, doing everything he wants because now that’s whatever you want to do, hell.

...Damnit, what _exactly_ had Ford said? Hell, it had only been a few weeks ago. His memory wasn’t _that_ bad. They’d been in the kitchen, he’d been about ready to fall asleep in his chair, and Ford had said… he’d said...

_"He makes you feel like you can do more, **be** more. It’s an addictive feeling._

...Oh. Oh _shit_.

_"I’m almost THERE!" -- "I need to finish!"_ Holy shit. _"Bill is **addictive**."_

Stan looked out, and away, out across the beach, and he felt a chill go down his spine. Because Ford **had** literally straight-up _told_ him. His brother had told him _weeks_ ago, and he hadn’t heard--

_You’ll **want** to ‘work with him’ more. Want to spend more time with him. Want to do more, for him."_

\--Like the teach had wanted to just keep going, and going, and going until he dropped?

_"You’re almost there." -- "I can’t! I can’t just STOP--"_

Goddamnit.

_"And before you know it, he’ll be the driving force in your life, in everything that you do. He’ll be the one directing what you’re doing. You likely won’t even realize it at first._

...and Ford had been so _adamant_ about it.

And that teacher hadn’t realized what he was doing to himself.

...And Stan hadn’t _understood_ **any** of it.

Hell, did Ford even _blame_ the triangle demon for any of it, like he should? ‘It’s what Bill is’ didn’t sound all that different than...

_"Because Bill is… **Bill**. And so much more than you are, or ever will be."--_

Stan grimaced. That one had stuck in his brain for awhile. He’d thought his brother was saying something almost backhanded to _him_ about it all, talking shit about him without meaning to... but now?

_"He’s been doing very well for a human."_

And Ford had _flinched_ at that. The kid had said that, and Ford hadn’t looked surprised. He hadn’t looked angry. He’d hadn’t looked anything. He’d _flinched_. Not said anything. Not even looked at all like he really wanted to protest it. Just. _flinched_.

...His brother had _flinched_ , because he’d heard it before.

And Stan didn’t want to even _begin_ to think about how many times _that_ had taken, how many times Ford had heard that one, for it to become _more_ than ‘too many’ times to hear. For it to become so many times that his brother didn’t even think about _trying_ to say something about it to the triangle demon anymore.

And Stan had listened to the kid long enough to know what the kid considered a compliment, just from his tone of voice. What the kid said, when he thought he was complimenting you. And that had been the _best_ of anything he’d ever heard out of the kid so far. And that had been when the kid was _trying_ to be ‘nice’.

(...And when the kid _hadn’t_ really been trying to be ‘nice’ to Ford anymore?)

Stan glared out at the coastline, and then the ocean beyond it.

_"It will feel **good** , that you are getting along so well. He will **make** it feel good. He will **make** you feel **good**."_

...That wasn’t just some nerdy scientist talking about his ‘partner’. --That was a _drug addict_ talking about his _dealer_. One who you _had_ to keep coming back to (or else…)

Oh, and Stan would just bet that the triangle had been _happy_ to keep ‘fixing up’ his brother, now, hadn’t he. To keep him dumb and happy. (Glassy-eyed and desperate and staring, like that teach had been.) To keep him going. ~~To drive him to exhaustion, to paranoia, from desperate right over the cliff into desperation--~~ To get that portal done...

...back then...

...and then Ford had ‘woken up’. And become at least a little _‘immune’_? ~~(He hadn’t looked any better than the teach coming out of that classroom, though, just a different kind of bad. Stan had stayed awake long enough to make sure that his brother had and would _stay_ asleep, last night. Because his brother had never been a very good liar. He _wasn’t_ \--)~~ And then...

_**"Everything you know will be wrong."** \-- "He will **enjoy** seeing your panic, and your despair. He will try and twist you up, and tear you down, and make you hurt, and laugh at you all the while. And then, after he’s left you raw and bleeding and wishing that you’d never existed in the first place, then and only then… **Then** it will start to get **worse**."_

His brother had built up a _tolerance_ to Bill, more or less. And eventually, that drug of his hadn’t worked anymore. Ford had (eventually, _finally_ ) come to his senses, and come down off of his feverish, fever-dream dream-demon high. And he’d dropped down low. _Real_ low. Real as in, reality-had-up-and-hit-him-in-the- _face_ -finally, low.

Ford had dropped from the stars to the basement bottom-floor, all in one go, and when he’d gone down, he’d hit rock bottom _hard_. --And then he’d had _withdrawal symptoms_ next, making everything just _that much worse_. Pain, and paranoia, and blood and bleeding ~~all over that first-floor bathroom, even swipes of the stuff in random crazy places down in the basement, on the chair backs, and desks, and parts of the _walls_~~ , and worse. ...Except the kid wasn’t just some chemical ~~that Ford could’ve made for himself~~ ; he’d been Ford’s dealer, too, his one and only source of _whatever_ Ford had _thought_ he’d needed, and-- ~~the demon had _laughed_ at his brother. Ford had said he’d _laughed at him_ \--~~

...and now?

Now, would the demon _maybe_ give Ford yet another ‘fix’ of his again, if only Ford would just _play along_ with him (again), toe the new (old) line that he’d set... have him break and cross every last line of his own that he’d ever had… and do _exactly what Bill wanted_ , in order to...

_"Leave him alone! **Take me instead!**_ "

~~His brother had been scared to death. He’d looked desperate, and _scared to death of--_~~

Goddamnit. Goddamnit, Ford. What had his brother thought Stan was going to think of him? That it was _his fault?_ \--It wasn’t Ford’s fault. Stan wasn’t stupid. Stan had _worked_ for the mob, and some of the drug cartels, south of the border; he had _seen_ how the worst of them handled their business. How they got new ‘customers’. --Hell, how they handled their worst _rivals_. All they had to do was shoot them up _just once_ , ~~get a couple of guys and hold them down, tie them up and~~ give them _just one hit_ of the worst of the worst-stuff, and...

The first hit was always ~~and only~~ the ~~only~~ one that was... ‘free’.

_"I told him enough to get him started." -- "I was helping him learn."_

...And everything that came after?

Punching the kid off of the side of the boat _wasn’t_ going to fix this, though. Stan knew that.

~~(But damn if it wouldn’t make him feel a hell of a lot better, though.)~~

~~(The kid deserved far worse for this than just one punch.)~~

_"How many times do you want me to kill him for it?" -- "He needs to die and stay dead."_

...And the very next thing Stan had talked about after that had been giving the kid an ‘out’. (How the hell had Ford not straight up just murdered him on the spot for that one, Stan didn’t know.)

Ford had (actually, somehow) managed to get himself _clean_ \-- as clean as he _could_ get himself, with the demon not freaking ever _really_ leaving him alone in the thirty years since -- and then what had Stan gone and done?

He’d refused to do the one thing that Ford thought would kill the demon dead and get rid of him for good. ~~And yeah, Stan was _sure_ that it wouldn’t work, that they needed to find another way, but _Ford _thought different--__~~

____

__

Instead, Stan had gone off and tried his damndest to have the triangle demon _live in the same house with them_ , instead.

...And Ford had lost his shit, stopped sleeping, just about stopped eating, and had ended up spending all his time in the basement, trying to figure out _another_ way to get rid of the demon, instead. _Of course he had._

~~(Because Stan wouldn’t even let him _try_ to flush the drugs down the toilet, let alone throw them out with the rest of the trash, and hope to whatever god was listening out there but refusing to do a damn thing about anything that it all didn’t go off and away, just to _boomerang back_ on them all again later. ...Y’know, like _last time_ , with the statue in the woods, and the kid the way he was now.)~~

And now…

~~...They couldn’t get rid of the demon, now. Not now. The kid wasn’t going anywhere; he simply didn’t want to anymore, now that he had _reasons_ to stay. Reasons that Stan had given him. And Stan _still_ had all the same reasons for wanting to _keep_ the kid, too, for _wanting_ the kid to get along with the rest of them, and--~~

\--Goddamnit, Ford. He wasn’t _that kind_ of flipping genius, some kind of _mind-reader_ here, to have been able to have read _that_ much _that far_ in-between the lines. He’d been missing the entire goddamn script, here! (A hell of a lot more than just two journals’ worth.) ~~\--What the hell was he supposed to do, now?~~

Stan pulled in a breath, and he let it out slowly. And then he did it again. He was fuming, and in-general still (and completely) incensed. And he knew it. ~~And he didn’t really _want_ to calm down, was the real problem here. What he _really_ wanted to do was to haul off and just punch the kid in the face, just as hard as he could, agreement and everything else be _damned_. Even though he knew _damn well_ what would happen _next_ if he--~~

And as Stan slowly tried to breathe and calm himself down and get himself back away from and off of that ledge, Miz was rolling around on the deck as she worried about what she’d just realized she’d accidentally done to her art teacher at school.

Miz ended up stopping in place on her belly, arms and legs all splayed out, and whined, "I didn’t mean to! --I’m gonna go talk to her today." She let out a tired huff. "At least she isn’t as bad off as Mr. Harman got. More of a ‘found a new obsession’ thing, instead of a ‘the epiphany of my life and reaching enlightenment’ thing." ( _‘Focus, Stanley,’_ Stan told himself. He had to manage the demons. He had to. For Ford. And the kids.)

Miz groaned, rolled over again, then pushed herself up and leaned back against the railing. "Is this a human thing? None of the aliens I’ve met have gotten so… _into_ the stuff I’ve shown them?" she asked to no one in particular, head tilted back and staring at the sky. "Well I guess there was that one guy who was kinda obsessed with wanting to touch me, but that’s something entirely different..."

Then she jolted up. "Didn’t Sixer want to touch me too? What the heck!?" She groaned and slumped over. "What did I _do?_ " she whined.

Stan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, then slowly lowered his hand and reopened his eyes to stare at the dragon-lady.

...Well, as ~~murderously~~ angry as he was with the kid for doin’ _whatever_ he’d done to his brother ~~and he’d better damn well not try any of it with him ever again, or _so help him_ \--~~, at least _Miz_ realized she’d screwed up somehow and actually seemed _sorry_ about it.

...Hell, she was, wasn’t she. She seemed actually surprised (and worried) about whatever she’d done to the art teacher. (He didn’t know what was up with the whole ‘people wanting to touch her’ thing coming up there, though; that seemed more like it was something that would hurt her more than hurting others.)

Bill blinked at her. "You talked to them?" Bill said next. "Good ideas stick. Some ideas stick better with certain species than with others. Usually, it’s tied to the biological inputs for how they usually see and perceive things and learn," Bill told her, finishing up with his eating (edible, but more sugary than he generally found pleasing-in-taste enough to ‘like’); he set the bowl and fork aside. "You used to be human, so maybe human-inspiration is easier for you?" Bill tried next. "What thought-axes and living-priorities were you centering your discussions around? --You need to be careful about the directionality of the underpinnings to make sure that they flow straight down the pathways properly, instead of getting lost in the neuronal weeds," he told her. "Side-tracks make most beings lose straight-focus. You need to make it as easy as possible for them to keep their eyes on the prize on the horizon, unless they’re really asking you for a long-term challenge."

"Well, I mainly tried to give people tips on how to do better what they’re already doing." ("That’s the horizon," Bill interjected, nodding.) "Humans listened." ("They usually do!") "I taught a few tribes how to make fire. And I do have worshippers… is that bad?" ("No!") "I didn’t think having worshippers was bad… none of them got as weirdly obsessed as Mr. Harman though," Miz pointed out quickly.

Then a look of realization came across Miz’s face. "Wait. Are the fans for my space idol persona a bad thing? They ARE obsessed, kinda unhealthily so, but humans are like that with idols too. And I’m not the only space idol out there. Isn’t that just what happens when you have fans?"

"--Worship is _fine_ ," Bill said. "Worship is different! --Though sometimes humans do end up mixing the two," Bill said, but then he got an odd expression on his face. "...Rarely," Bill added after a moment. "It happens, but it’s rare for some. Most. --The _smart_ ones usually don’t worship anything but pure knowledge," Bill told her. "Beings and demons like us are too concrete a concept for proper worship by them, usually."

Stan looked back and forth between the two demon-kids. He was feeling pretty damn lost by this point. (And still pretty damn angry with the kid, fists clenched at his sides where he was sitting.) --All he’d really gotten out of this so far? Was that ‘inspiration’ and ‘enlightenment’ were probably the right words for the two specific things that he needed to shut the kid down on _hard_ , right now, post-haste -- ‘addiction’ and ‘contagious’.

And yeah, Stan knew about the Miz being ‘worshipped’ thing already, kind of; she’d mentioned it offhand before. But this ‘space idol’ thing? " _What_ space idol thing?" Stan asked, trying to push it all down. (Which he could do. Hell, why _wouldn’t_ he be able to do this? He was a professional con-man. He could do this…)

Miz shifted into Jan, pouting. "I’m a professional singer. Sort of. I get paid to hold music concerts where I sing and dance." He waved his arms around. "I have FANS. Like, those crazy types of fans who scream and faint if I so much as look at them. I’m sure you’ve seen how Mabel acts around her boy bands?" Jan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "It’s crazy how fans get. But I have bodyguards, they keep the crazies from climbing on stage or assaulting me in my dressing room…" He shook his head. "That’s not the point," Jan looked at Stan, "Is THAT sort of thing a bad thing? It’s not the same as what happened yesterday? But I’m not sure what is acceptable ‘obsession’ or not?"

"Obsession?" said the kid who had been messing around inside his brother’s head for _thirty-some years_ \--

Stan couldn’t do this.

"--I need twenty minutes, kid," Stan growled out, as he shoved himself to his feet. "Stay here; _don’t_ do anything stupid." And then Stan glared down at the kid. "And don’t say a goddamn word to Ford while I’m away. _Ever_. --Until I tell you otherwise," Stan had to add, because of the kid’s stupid problem with _any_ ‘hard no’s. ~~But hell. ‘Telling the kid otherwise?’ Like _that_ was gonna happen ever, with the way the kid kept-- ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

Stan clenched his jaw, and clenched and unclenched his fists, and stopped himself _right there_. The agreement was a thing. He wanted Ford and the kids to stay safe. ~~(He could make the triangle demon actually listen to him, _and he’d **better** listen--_)~~

Stan turned and went over to the rope ladder, tossed it over the side roughly, and then he climbed his way down off of the deck and down onto the sand.

And Stan started stomping his way across the beach. ~~(Damn if he didn’t want to punch the fuck out of something right about now.)~~

Jan blinked. "I think Stan’s angry." Though he wasn't quite sure why? Something about Ford… and punching things?

"...Yes," said Bill, watching Stanley move off. He frowned. He didn’t like that Stanley was apparently _angry_ (with him?) about the fact that he was _inspiring_ other people (who were not him? Or that Stanford? --Well, maybe not that Stanford, if Stanley didn’t want him talking about certain things to that Stanford while Stanley wasn't there to hear them...) -- _jealous_ , much?

The four-armed humanoid sighed. Well, Jan’s fans didn’t seem like they were going through the same thing as what his brother had done to Mr. Harman. That being... nothing, really. Bill had simply given him some ideas for a few cool concepts. Like, the equation for opening his very own viewing portal, in a way that Mr. Harman could have built himself without weirdness or magic, and then on to the workings of the invisible suit that Mr. Harman had seemed... even more interested in than that?… which had led to _how_ the suit had worked… which had led to _why_ the suit had worked… which was based on the fact that the universe was a hologram, and… --okay, yeah, maybe THAT had been the thing that would have broken him? Jan hummed in thought. The knowledge that the world around him wasn’t… well, it wasn’t like the world wasn’t _real_ , just that it wasn’t as… real as people maybe thought it was, in the way that they thought it was?

"I think Stan is mad that Mr. Harman got so invested in learning that he neglected his health…" Jan frowned, thinking through what else he’d picked up from Stan’s racing thoughts and then translating them into a way that he thought Bill would understand better. "And… how, maybe, you got that Stanford to neglect his health back when you worked together?" That was the most he could really ‘get’ from what Stan seemed to be thinking. "So he’s mad at you for making them so distracted that they ended up harming themselves through neglect?"

"I wasn’t _distracting_ them!" Bill complained. "I was--"

And Bill was cut off abruptly as Ford climbed and half-dragged and clambered his way up out of the hatch, stumbling forward--

\--and quite literally almost _tackled_ Bill to the deck, wrapping his arms around him and shuddering in place as he practically collapsed _right down on top of him_.

Jan looked over and blinked. "Um… are you okay?" he asked.

Bill let out a garble of half-strangled sound, starting to shove at that Stanford… until he realized that _that_ was just making the grabbing-him _that much worse_. ...And that it wasn’t _actually_ an attack.

Ford let out a coughing sound, shuddering as he did so. And another sort of coughing-gasping sound.

Rrgh. --Not an attack. It was just--!! _Stupid._ Bill gritted his teeth and finally managed to twist around in place. He got a single hand up and out, and ran it over the back of that Stanford’s head, closing his eyes and ramping up his own internal amplitude as he did so, opening his mouth and vocalizing his _hummmmmm_.

And then Ford _really_ collapsed. His shuddering almost immediately subsided; he (finally) pulled air into his lungs properly in one hard, long gasp, and then began breathing (and continuing to breathe in) like he’d never breathed in air before, almost.

\--In and then out again, finally. And then in and out. And in and out. And...

(...still not letting go of Bill, yet.)

"Worst. Timing. _Ever._ " Bill gritted out, in an overlay over his own modulated vocalized _hum_ , putting up with it all for now… --But he _DIDN’T_ have to LIKE it!! NO, HE DID NOT!!!

Jan got up to walk over. "What the heck?" He knelt down to examine Ford. (Ford did not seem to notice this, at first.) Then Jan carefully gripped the larger man and pulled him up and off his brother. (Ford flailed and fought him for a moment -- before seeming to wake up at least a little, starting to really get his bearings -- while Bill let out a breath and stopped humming aloud, letting himself cycle everything down once again.)

"What was that about?" Jan wondered aloud as he started to move Ford over to place him back down against the railings.

\--And Ford yanked himself out of Jan’s hold, shoving himself away from him, eyes wide.

Jan turned to Bill. "Oh wait, Stan said you’re not supposed to talk until he gets back," he reminded his brother sheepishly.

" _No-he-didn’t_ , and I. DON’T. CARE!!!" Bill said, slowly pushing himself upright again. He was _very_ unhappy at the ‘abuse’ he’d just received! (And that wasn’t what Stan had said anyway! --Bill wasn’t going to STOP at just ONE ‘goddamn word’ -- he had _several_ that he wanted to communicate to that Stanford, and not a ONE of them had been ‘damned’ by that _stupid lizard!_ \--Not that it mattered; stupid lizard couldn’t kick him out, anyway! Stanley’s worries on _that_ front were _completely unfounded!_ HA!)

(That said…)

Bill turned towards that Stanford and said, directly, pointing right at him, "YOU. _STOP_ HAVING **NIGHTMARES** WHEN _I’M NOT IN THEM!!_ " Bill proclaimed out at him angrily. "It’s RUDE!!!" It had been bad enough when Sixer had been doing it when he had been _able_ to jump into his Dreamscape and take over for them. --That Stanford _NEVER_ managed to dream him up RIGHT!!

"I-- I--" Ford looked something of a wreck just then, hair and glasses all askew, hand up and grasping the side of his head. "You _were--_ "

"--I was UP _HERE_ and AWAKE!" Bill snapped back at him angrily.

Jan facepalmed. "I don’t think he’s doing that on purpose." He muttered, "Heck, I had a dream involving a Bill who wasn’t me or you. He was joining the Avengers and Captain America was taking him grocery shopping when they got ambushed by HYDRA agents…" As he rambled, he turned towards Ford and looked him over. "Are you okay?" he asked Ford again. Seeing Ford so pathetic made him feel bad. Hard to be mad at someone who looked so lost and frantic. Like a sad and freaked-out owl.

Ford was swaying in place. He still had one hand up at the side of his head, and his other hand up at his throat. His eyes snapped over to Jan briefly before going back to Bill. He still looked more than a little panicked, but the original panic and desperation was turning into a panic and desperation of a somewhat different ‘flavor’ now, instead.

Jan frowned. He was pretty sure that Stan didn’t want Bill talking to Ford. But brother wouldn’t like to be told to shut up, and really, no one liked being told that.

So Jan looked around for some other excuse to try and keep Bill from speaking. Jan picked up the notebook he’d written some of his ‘issues’ down on and held it out to Bill. "Hey, ah, Stan asked me to write down some stuff that might be giving me trouble. Do you wanna go back in the sand castle and read it over with me, so we can see about how to address them?" Jan wasn’t really looking forward to this discussion, but if it might distract Bill...

"Not yet," Bill said tersely, getting up and dropping down in front of that Stanford in a crouch. (Ford flinched back a bit from Bill, then seemed to brace himself at least slightly against the impending ‘assault’, as he continued to try to get his breathing under control.)

" _What do you need_ ," Bill demanded out of that Stanford, staring him right in the eyes.

And Ford bristled.

"I-- don’t _want_ \--" Ford began, his panic starting to edge into the beginnings of a mix of anger.

"--Not _want!_ NEED!" Bill snapped back at him, which had Ford flinching and snapping his own mouth shut. "Shooting Star and Pine Tree want you physically and mentally ‘fine’!" Bill said next, "For the _agreement!_ " Bill practically snarled out at him next. "What do you NEED?" Ford kept his mouth shut. "More sleep? Dreams-- no. Nightmares-- _nightmares_. -- _More_ nightmares. -- _Less_ nightmares," Bill guessed at in a fairly rapid clip, watching his suit’s overlay in his field of view, watching the readouts he was getting from the built-in sensors that were picking up on Sixer’s ‘visible’ externally-readable brain waves for… "-- _No_ nightmares. ...No nightmares. _Fine._ \--You sleep, arms around me," Bill said, like it effectively closed the discussion, as Sixer himself turned pale.

"I am _not_ sleeping inside that dimensional-pocket of space--" Ford began.

"-- _DON’T ARGUE WITH ME,_ " Bill said. "I never said ‘sleeping inside the sandcastle’! I don’t trust you in there with Miz!" Bill said next, sitting back on his heels.

"Wait, brother," Jan pointed out. "I can bring the blankets out here." He waved a hand to float the bedding out onto the deck. Jan tried to give Ford a reassuring smile. "Just breathe and try to calm down okay?" He told him gently. This form’s voice coming out calm and soothing.

...Which for some reason had Ford shuddering like it was grating along every last nerve and drawing blood. ~~(The last time that he’d heard a demon talk like _that_ , he’d been in the back of a nearby cage, and then that demon had--)~~ And he looked utterly miserable for some reason that Jan couldn't grasp, gripping at his torso and bending inwards on himself, like he wanted to disappear straight down into the deck.

Jan frowned. Why did everything he try to do to help, just make things worse? Why was _everything_ he did always wrong? Why was he always such a stupid fucking failure-- one of his hands was gripping at his arm, an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

"Breathing is the problem," Bill told his sister, sitting back and pulling his legs in cross-legged. He was still looking straight-at his Sixer, the idiot. "You had that ‘drowning in your own coughed-up insides-rotting blackness’ dream again, didn’t you," Bill said almost clinically, in descending ‘you idiot’ tones.

Ford lifted his head abruptly and stared at Bill like he’d never seen him before.

" _Again?!?_ " was what came out of Ford’s mouth in sheer disbelief, and _that_ had Bill glaring at him and practically hissing out, "Just because _YOU_ don’t remember every last one of your dreams, _doesn’t mean that I **DON’T**_."

Ford stared at Bill, breathing shakily and still shivering slightly in place. Bill glared at him right back.

"-- _What else_ ," Bill snapped out at Ford next. "You said I was there? --And you made it up the ladder." Bill seemed to be calming down a bit, though he was still clearly very fixated on his Zodiac still. "That’s nonstandard." Bill narrowed his eyes at him. "That wasn’t just a collapse-and-melt progression." (Ford shuddered slightly and looked even more sick.) "What. _happened._ "

Ford kept his mouth shut, his eyes going a little dark.

"--Are you _really_ going to make me _GUESS?_ " Bill demanded out of him next, " **REALLY?!** " his eyes going sharp and even angrier.

"...Go to hell," Ford said quietly, gritting his teeth. He slowly pulled in his knees towards his chest, and glared at Bill over them.

Jan bit his lip. "Um, brother? Maybe… give him some space to calm down on his own?" The mess of thoughts he was hearing -- what little he could hear from Ford through the metal plate in his head -- were a mess. So maybe, getting Bill away from him would help? Whatever nightmare he’d gotten DID involve some mental image of Bill Cipher. And… some kind of dual-thoughts of ‘stop’ and ‘don’t stop’ or something? Either way, it was fucked up and maybe getting Ford some time to himself would help?

_...though Jan wasn’t sure why he even bothered to try, it’s not like anything he did ever ended well, and people always ended up angrier at him no matter what he tried to do to help them…_

"--He doesn’t ‘calm down on his own’," Bill scoffed, still glaring at said ‘him’, because that was half the problem right now -- Bill didn’t WANT to be ‘helping’ him just then -- especially not after what he’d said about… -- but the agreement _REQUIRED_ it, and...

Bill turned away from that Stanford and towards Jan, to explain to his sister that, "He only ever--"

And then Bill blinked and stopped when he saw his sister’s expression. And Bill sat up straight. His sister looked… distressed? Why? What happened? Why was s/he unhappy?

Jan was gripping his arms tightly, knuckles pale. "U-um… I… I think I ne-need a hug…" He whimpered. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and tried not to feel so awful, but he couldn’t. Stan was angry, Ford was upset, and if Stan came back to find Ford like this… There would be even more angry yelling. And Jan HATED angry yelling! It ALWAYS made him/her feel--

Time Baby was always angry yelling and it just--

Bill shifted in place uneasily when Jan began shuddering, as he looked over at and watched his sister, where he sat. (And Ford stared.)

And then Bill got up abruptly, and took a few steps over… and dropped down just as abruptly next to Jan. And stopped (though he hardly looked settled, as he settled down in place next to her/him). And then he looked even _more_ uncertain, shifting in place again. (Ford kept on staring.) And then Bill saw that his sister was _crying_ , now. Tears were escaping from his closed eyes, and...

Bill let out a distressed _click-clack_ -chirp-ing sort of sound, and his arms and hands came up almost immediately, then stopped again, hovering near his cheeks. His eyes moved back and forth quickly, as he tried to assess--

Bill’s fingers twitched ever-so-slightly. ...And then he moved his hands forward all-at-once, in a smooth motion, to come to rest up against Jan’s cheeks, right below his eyes.

"Ah…" Bill said, sounding almost a little bit nervous. "Leaking tears. …Defective vessel?" he tried, almost hopefully, despite the fact that he was (unfortunately) fairly sure that it wasn’t just _THAT_ sort of problem.

Jan sniffled. "I’m sorry, I’m just…" He leaned forward to bury his face against Bill’s shoulder. (Bill let out a bit of a startled click-chirp, but remained stationary, staying in place.) "I just… want some quiet for a bit, please?" He wanted to stop thinking about how much of a fuck up he was. Having to write them down earlier was bad enough, and realizing that he’d accidentally messed up that nice art teacher was worse, but trying to help keep the peace, trying to help Ford, and just being unable to, was too much. He just wanted people to stop being upset. He wanted to stop _making_ people upset. But he just couldn’t!

Bill slowly brought his hands up, in not-quite-smooth (yet not quite stop-motion) fits and starts, to wrap around his sister’s shoulders. A hug. His sister had said he wanted a hug, yes? And quiet ‘for a bit’? (--How long was ‘a bit’? Should he cast a muffling-sound spell? Except _that Stanford_ needed-- UGH.)

Jan relaxed into Bill’s hold, breathing wetly and shrank back into Miz. It was easier as Miz. She clutched onto Bill’s shirt and not-quite sobbed. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…"

..." _Sorry?_ " Bill echoed, confused. But… his sister hadn’t done anything wrong? Bill looked down at her, then around and about and just about everything, because he wasn’t sure at all what to do in order to fix this, let alone what was _causing_ this. --How was he supposed to explode what was making his sister sad if he didn’t know what to turn his very destructive and righteous (even by _Sixer’s_ standards) anger on! WHAT was he supposed to DO, to make things BETTER for--?!

...Then Bill realized he was looking at Sixer, and immediately turned his head away from him abruptly.

Ford stared at Bill, and at the other demon. And at what Bill was doing just then.

(And how Bill was reacting to the distress he’d just been presented with, here and now.)

And Ford took in a shallow breath (as deeply as he could just then) and managed to ask, quite lowly, of Bill, "...Why did I come up to the deck to you?"

(He never would have expected that _Bill_ \--)

~~(...Had those dreams back then, so very long ago, _actually_ been…?)~~

Bill clenched his jaw. He pulled in a breath. Let it out.

Ford swallowed. "Bill?"

"--Quiet for a bit," Bill said next, sounding strained to Ford’s ears. "Five minutes."

Ford stared at the dream demon incredulously, and nearly told Bill off for it. ...But then he remembered what Stan had said out in the hallway the night before, when... And how Bill had stopped talking then. For just about five minutes.

(...Stan had said something about Bill ‘mirroring’ them, hadn’t he? So what would happen if he didn’t...)

(...but what would happen if he _did?_ )

Ford stared at Bill for another long moment.

And then Ford slowly closed his mouth and just watched the two demons. (Quite frankly, he wasn’t up for yet another argument with Bill, just then. He felt a little dizzy, almost, and more than a little sick. But attempting to concentrate on something outside himself was… well, it was far better than _dwelling on_ \--)

Miz was letting out shuddering breaths herself now, as she allowed her own feelings to play out, converting them slowly into energy instead as she managed to calm down.

She breathed and held onto Bill, feeling his heart beating under her hand where she was gripping his shirt. Beat, beat, beat. Slow and steady. It wasn’t quite the same as Xanthar’s ‘Calm’ but it helped a little.

She breathed and relaxed. And she felt drained, even as her energy buzzed beneath her skin. She still didn’t know how this worked. She’d always had these odd paradoxical issues. But at least she was feeling… not better, but calmer now.

She wiped her eyes, slowly pulling away from Bill, though she kept one hand on his shirt.

"...sorry…" Miz repeated. "I just… needed a bit of time." She rubbed her eyes.

"How long is ‘a bit of time’?" Bill said, still looking a bit strained. "For future reference?" He hadn’t been entirely sure about the ‘five minutes’ covering it. Or that Stanford actually managing to be able to stay quiet for that long, even if Sixer hadn’t inexplicably _wanted_ to be a PROBLEM to Bill outright -- like that Stanford usually was.

Miz sighed, sitting up. "Until I stop crying, though, I guess, I can just tell you when I’m doing better. The duration might vary…" She felt a little embarrassed for breaking down over something so stupid.

Bill froze in place for a moment at the ‘until I stop crying’.

"Mm," said Bill. "Telling me… is good." Not having a known time duration would make it more difficult to demand a ‘silence’ out of that Stanford, though. He… wasn’t actually certain why he hadn’t gotten just a larger argument out of that Stanford for it? Or at least the usual hard ‘no’... (Bill frowned a little at this.)

Miz straightened up and glanced over at Ford. "Um, you can ask your question now, if you want?" she asked timidly, hoping that this wouldn’t just set Ford off again.

Ford twitched, and he almost snapped at her… but he held it down. The _very_ last thing he needed right now was the other demon beginning to (pretend to?) cry again; they’d be at this all day.

"Sorry I interrupted you two…" Miz said, looking miserable.

...Ford just couldn’t take this right now. He couldn’t… The demon was acting like an actual _person_ , and... Ford closed his eyes for a moment, on the verge of the beginnings of a headache. He put his head down on his knees.

"...Bill?" Ford said slowly. His breathing was somewhat better, but his chest was aching to the point that it almost hurt, _right there_ , and he still felt like he was on the verge of ~~_something_ in his chest cracking open, and starting to cough up _that_~~ \--

"--- _Why_ did you come to me?" Bill restated tersely. "I don’t know. --I usually come to _you_ ," Bill said, eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Ford a long side-eyed look. "I used to."

(He’d _used to_.) Ford tried to remember what breathing was _supposed_ to feel like. "Why."

"--Because _you’re not supposed to have any nightmares that I don’t give you_ , that’s why!" Bill snapped out at him, over his sister’s head. "You _always_ get them wrong," Bill said, sounding aggrieved, as though he were some maligned party in all of this.

Ford snorted, and shook in place a little as he quickly lifted a hand to cover his mouth, feeling somewhat hysterical as he felt incredulous laughter building up in his throat. ...And then bubbling up (or making its way down?) inside his chest. Because the thought was just… ludicrous. Simply, completely, and utterly ridiculous. Because Bill _didn’t_ just believe that he owned ‘every thought he’d ever had in his head’, oh no. Bill wasn’t just content with that. No, Bill felt… that he _owned_ his dreams?! -- no, his _nightmares?_ \-- as well?! Every last one of them?

And Miz repeated, "I don’t think he’s doing that on purpose…" as she slid down again to lay her head in Bill’s lap, feeling tired.

"Oh, little sister of mine," Bill said, as he lowered his hands and patted her head gently, "You have NO IDEA how contrary and stubborn that Stanford is." And Bill sounded completely disgusted with him about that.

And that was just… the last little bit too much.

Ford started to laugh.

He curled up, and in on himself, and then he sort of collapsed over sideways, and he just laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed.

He laughed, and he laughed, until his head felt more light than anything, and his chest felt completely weak and almost paper-thin on him.

And by the time he’d finished with all of his laughing, he was flat on his back, staring up at the bright blue sky, and he hadn’t even realized how bright it was outside, up here, that the sun was shining so brightly like this. He hadn’t even realized it, when he’d first come up and out of the hold; not until just now, and...

...for some reason, it just wasn’t so very hard for him to breathe anymore. His breath was weak, and his chest was empty, and his head was light as if filled with helium, or perhaps even pure _hydrogen_ instead, and… Ford felt like… everything had just drained out of him somehow, at some point during all that laughter, _with_ the laughter perhaps, and there was nothing at all left in him anymore. Not an emptiness; just a… _blankness_ , almost. An almost-flat sort of null...

"...You done?" Ford heard Bill say to him in peevish tones.

"Oh, quite possibly not..." Ford breathed out, because with Bill apparently planning on living _forever_ , when would he ever be _done?_ And yet… for some reason, it didn’t quite feel so immensely unmanageable for some reason anymore, for no reason that Ford could possibly think of.

Ford stared at the sky, and the lightheadedness he’d been feeling slowly fading into something almost manageable, as he breathed in and out, and time slowly progressed forward on without him.

"...I wouldn’t put it past me," Ford added after awhile -- quite reasonably all-in-all, he thought. It was, at least, as truthful as he could be on the matter, at this moment, in this place and time, within this dimension, and...

Ford slowly closed his eyes, and he breathed in the proper air mix that members of his species had evolved to breathe as their standard environmental baseline standard.

And it felt good, to breathe it all in. 78% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, and less than 1% trace elements, with variable amounts of water vapor skewing the mix; it probably close to 1% here, being as close as they were to the ocean...

And Miz calmed fully, seeing that Stanford wasn't a broken mess anymore. Or at the very least, that he was feeling better. She sighed, snuggling into Bill's lap.

"...I don’t think I’ve laughed like that in months," Ford said next, slowly moving a hand to his forehead; and he was feeling a bit too tingly all over and throughout his extremities to really call what he was feeling just then, at the thought of that, ‘stunned’. (Because the last time he’d laughed like that, had been when…)

Bill just stared at that Stanford, then rolled his eyes. Miz sighed. "Do you think I should go to the school early to apologize to miss… um… I forgot her name…" She really hoped she could fix whatever she'd done wrong with that woman. She had been nice.

Ford turned his head slightly, and opened his eyes to look over at the younger demon. "Apologize for what?" He was feeling rather (stuck in) an emotional neutral at the moment, as he not-quite demanded to know what the demon he didn’t know quite so well was talking about.

Miz winced. "I messed up. Like I always do. And I accidentally hurt someone. And I just realized that I had done so. And it made me feel really upset at myself."

"She liked your drawing. You didn’t hurt her," Bill told Miz, frowning. "She was _very_ happy with it."

Miz shook her head. Brother didn't understand. "I know. But I still hurt her. Not physically, and not quite emotionally, but I hurt her. In a way that Mr. Harman was hurt."

"You didn’t erase the sketch," Bill said, thinking she’d meant how Mr. Harman was going to be ‘hurt’ -- feeling _attacked_ \-- by seeing the erased chalkboards, if he hadn’t woken up and seen them already!

Miz shook her head. "I can't explain how it works, only that I had done that to her…"

"...Oh, _wonderful_ ," Ford said rather tonelessly. "There’s two of you." He turned his head towards the sky again, and raised an arm to drop it over his face, hiding his eyes (and eyeglasses) behind it.

"I didn't do it on purpose." Miz protested.

"Neither does Bill, generally," Ford tossed out to the endless black that his vision had become. That wasn’t quite true, of course -- Bill _was_ doing what he did _on purpose_ , he never did anything _without_ purpose -- but… Ford was rather too tired to argue the nuances of the problem of what Bill _was_ and _did_ , with either of them, just then.

(And, quite frankly, Ford didn’t really care what Bill _meant_ to do. He knew what most demons wanted. ~~That was more than enough; he _didn’t_ need the terrifying _specifics_ of…~~ And what Bill _did_ do was bad enough as it was...)

~~(Ford didn’t **want** to know what Bill would be like, if _breaking people_ became the _point_ , the be-all and end-all of _what Bill wanted_ \--)~~

"And I'm gonna try to fix it." Miz winced. "But I don't know if maybe I'd just make things worse, because I always ma-make things worse…" and dammit if she wasn't making herself upset again. Miz breathed and tried to not go down that line of thought.

"I am the worst; I make things worse," Bill offered up to her. "You are doing the right thing?" (Ford let out a tired sigh at this. ...Now, he _knew_ he had a headache going.)

"I don't _want_ to make things worse, though." Miz said softly.

"...That’s because you still look up to the stupid lizard," Bill said after a moment. "Yes?" (Ford frowned to himself. Demons didn’t _look up to_ the Axolotl. Not in anything other than the most literal sense. And yet Bill was acting as though the other demon thought...)

Miz pouted. "Dad isn't…" she paused. It wasn't just because Ax was someone she 'looked up to', she just wanted...

"It isn’t… what?" Bill asked her.

Miz sighed. "What if I want to be good? For myself? Not for dad's sake?" (Ford suppressed a snort. The demon couldn’t be serious, and Bill could not _possibly_ be falling for this…)

"Well, little sis, THAT is your problem right there," Bill told her quite seriously (which had Ford mentally sitting up and taking notice -- and not just in order to be able to warn Stan about who-knew-what that the demons might be planning on doing later, that they were talking about right in front of him). "The stupid lizard is ‘good’ and ‘makes things better’. But it is stupid and makes everything in existence in STUPID ways so that NOTHING WORKS RIGHT. --So we should be ‘bad’ and ‘make things worse’ instead," he told her simply, "And BREAK all the rules that THAT stupid thing got ALL WRONG." (...Ah. Yes. Classic Bill. Opposing the Axolotl -- the greatest force of good in existence -- with every erg of demonic energy at his disposal. Blindly fighting against that god-like being -- the writer of the rules that had made all of existence even _possible_ to begin with -- by trying to destroy everything instead, to turn all of existence back into a sea of pure chaos and madness, _just because he could_.)

Miz sighed. "Doesn’t have to be the opposite. It's not black and white. You don't like your Ax's 'good', but you don’t have to be 'bad', you can just make your own type of 'good'." She paused. "I'm still trying to figure out my own type of good. It's not like dad's at all." (Ford was certain that this demon was going to worsen his burgeoning headache even further, before all was said and done. She was far too good at pretending to be human, sometimes…)

Bill blinked down at her.

"Miz," Bill said to her quite seriously. "What do you think I MEAN when I said ‘bad’." He moved his forehead down, quite close to her own, and told her, with a smile, "I _don’t_ perform to anyone else’s ‘type’."

Ford blinked his eyes open.

Miz blinked up at her brother. "A bad of going around doing your own thing and hurting other people? Even unintentionally?" She paused. "I don't like hurting people. Not unless they've done something that I feel deserves it." She clarified. "Like how I hurt Miss...Talia by accident." Right, that was her name.

"I didn’t hurt that teacher," Bill said to her, frowning as he caught the thread of what she was getting at, because she’d brought up Mr. Harman’s ‘being hurt’ by him before.

"Yes, you did," Ford muttered out, pulling the arm over his face down to his chest and looking over tiredly at Bill. (He probably shouldn’t be trying to ‘play along’ here, but certain things simply _couldn’t_ remain unchallenged, and…) "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Paradigm shifts are _supposed_ to be revolutionary, Sixer," Bill said peevishly. " _You_ don’t know what _YOU’RE_ talking about. --He would have been _BETTER_ " Bill insisted. (...’Would have been’. Ford blinked. That was… ~~interesting~~ different.)

"And now?" Ford said quietly.

"’Now’." Bill looked away from him, and he looked annoyed. "Now I don’t know _what_ he’s going to be. --Not with Stanley taking over and listening to _you_ instead of _me_ ," Bill ended on, looking over at Ford with a long not-so-happy-with-him stare. Ford frowned at him back. (Did Bill really not understand…? --Yes, Ford knew what he’d said to Stan. But at some level, Ford would have thought that Bill...)

Miz sighed. Bill didn't get it. "Mr. Harman was not doing well. He was tired. And hungry. He was neglecting his health and might have gotten more hostile and frantic if he didn't stop to rest." And then she added, because Bill wouldn't understand why he was to blame for this, "--and he sort of did that to himself by wanting to reach his conclusion. But you started him on that train of thought…"

"So?" Bill said. "If he wanted to stop, then he should have stopped. _I_ wasn’t making him continue, to keep going and going and going." ("...Wait," Ford said.)

Miz sighed. "I don't know how to explain it." She said again. "But he was hurt. And Miss Talia was hurt."

Ford was glancing between the two demons now, as he slowly pushed himself up, until he was sitting half-upright. "Bill. You weren’t rushing him?" That didn’t make any sense at all. Bill _always_ \--

Bill rolled his eyes. "No. Why would I? --I was just helping him!" He was frustrated that everyone -- including his sister -- was saying that ‘teaching’ that science teacher was a bad thing! He wasn’t stupid! He’d done this sort of thing PLENTY of times in the past! --He knew what he was doing! Just because _that Stanford_ didn’t agree with him ever, _didn’t_ mean that--

Miz sighed. "I know you were just trying to help…" or at least, have fun.

Ford stared. "You… you weren’t rushing him…" he repeated, in disbelief. (Had Bill… learned how to lie effectively at some point. ...But, no. No. He would swear that Bill wasn’t lying to him just then.) "Then… how did… he get like that?"

Bill made an annoyed sound. "He was _listening_ to me!" he told that Stanford. "You know, that thing that _you_ used to almost-do?" he added peevishly. (Ford pulled in a short hard breath.) "He was fine! --So he was a little tired," Bill complained. "That’s what happens to fleshy beings when they really _work_ at something! He could have stopped for a breather! I wouldn’t have stopped him! --He did it to himself!" Bill objected, yet again.

"You made him _feel_ like he couldn’t stop!" Ford told him, because Bill always, _always_ did this--

"NO, I DIDN’T!" Bill objected yet again, even more hotly this time.

Ford gritted his teeth and _glared_ at the dream demon -- who had, in fact, done that exactly that, that very _thing_ , to _him_ as well -- and...

"--How about you agree to disagree?" Miz groaned, not wanting to deal with this. But then she saw the way the two of them were glaring at each other and decided to give up a bit, to just let the two talk this out between themselves… She was just gonna try and feel better after her latest breakdown instead of getting involved this time. (Nobody ever listened to her, anyway.) So she closed her eyes and snuggled down into Bill's lap. Maybe she should Look around for Stan. Someone had to make breakfast for the kids and Ford wasn't gonna trust her to do it.

She blinked her eyes open and shivered as she caught Sight of him. He was on the beach, almost to the boat, and the look he had on his face was--

Angry. Very, very angry.

The younger twins were coming up the hatch now, blinking into the sunlight. Miz lifted her head. Ford didn't trust her to make his food, but she could still make breakfast for them. (And it would get her a bit away from the yelling.) "Morning~" she chirped out quickly, as she just as quickly rolled off Bill's lap and crawled over to the ingredients that Stan had been setting up earlier.

Stan had heard the kid’s voice carrying across the beach, and his brother was up on deck with the triangle demon, and _so help him--_

Stan didn’t even wait. He stomped right up to the boat, went straight up the rope ladder, and didn’t stop until he had the kid dragged up off of his feet, practically dangling from his hands ~~and oh, Stan wanted to shake him until he rattled~~ as Stan yelled, right in the damn demon’s face -- " _WHAT DID I TELL YOU!!_ "

And the demon had the sheer audacity to look _shocked_ at him.

Miz piped up, "I told you Stan didn't want you to talk until he got back."

"WHaT?" the demon said, twitching his head on his neck around and down to his sister, as he tried to grab onto Stan’s wrists. "That’s not--" The demon-kid looked up at Stan’s face again. "That’s _not_ \--" And the demon must’ve read something in his face, because he half-kicked out, half got his feet out and under him, gripping onto him more tightly, and-- now the idiot triangle was looking at _him_ all angry?! "--That’s NOT what you said!" the demon had the audacity to tell him, straight to his face.

"I told you not to talk to him!!" Stan yelled out at the demon, giving him half-a-shake roughly.

"No!" the demon objected back. "You said-- Stay here. I stayed here! --Don’t do anything stupid -- and I didn’t!" Stan gritted his teeth, and bunched his shoulders. "Don’t say a goddamn word to Ford while you’re away -- no AXOLOTL-damned words while you were 'away', not even one!"

"You know DAMN well what I meant, _kid_ ," Stan gritted out at the demon, pulling him in even closer. Because so help him, if he did something to his brother while he was away--

The demon shook his head at him slightly, not looking away from, him and then started looking angry all over again. "You said-- you--!" The demon pulled in a breath, and yelled out, "If you WANTED me to ‘not talk to that Stanford’, you should have SAID ‘Don’t talk to that Stanford’!!" And then the stupid demon had the audacity to say, "It doesn’t matter anyway," Stan pulled in a breath in outrage, as the demon had the further audacity to follow up _that_ statement with, "Because _I would have had to talk to that Stanford to keep the agreement_ \--"

"--LIKE HELL!!" Stan bellowed out at him.

Miz sighed, leaning on Lee, who was staring wide-eyed at what was happening right now. "So, what do you two want for breakfast? There's pancake mix here." The younger twins didn’t look all that hungry, more of a distressed sort of worry as they glanced between the demon and the adult-Stanley. "I should get you two some orange juice. That'll be good for you…" Miz said, mostly to herself, as she looked around for some of the stuff she got while they'd been at the grocery store yesterday, it would have been rude to go in and look at everything without buying anything after all.

"--because he--!" Bill said next, then stopped abruptly as he felt arms encircle him from behind.

Stan stared.

Miz busied herself with getting the oranges out and looking for something to use for juicing them.

"...Ford," Stan said lowly. "What the hell are you doing." Because his brother was standing at the demon’s back, with his arms wrapped around his shoulders and chest, and he didn’t look all that great, but he look like he wasn’t about to back down on something. (Oh, hell. Ford. What the hell had the demon done to him while he’d been away--)

"I need you to let go of him, Stanley," Ford said slowly, quietly. He looked a bit pale. (The demon was looking down and around with a ‘what-what-what’ look on his face. ...So the demon-kid hadn’t been expecting this.)

Stan stared at his brother, because what the hell...

Stan had to take a moment. (Had the demon gotten to his brother? Was Ford ‘addicted’ to him or something again? What the hell--)

"Ford," Stan said, slowly and carefully, barely keeping his anger under control ~~because if this was Bill’s doing, then so help him~~ as he asked his brother, "Are you telling me to let the demon off the hook, here?"

Ford stared at him.

"What?" said Ford. And Stan’s brother stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

Stan opened his mouth slightly. And then closed it again as a lightbulb seemed to go off in his brother’s head.

"--No!" Ford said abruptly (but his grip on the demon tightened as he said it, Stan saw it; shit). "No, I--" Ford looked… his brother seemed to _fight_ with himself for a moment before he opened his mouth--

"--Sixer would’ve gotten worse," Bill interjected, and Stan saw his brother flinch again ~~damn the demon~~. And the demon looked angry as he said, "--I _listened_ to him. And I _responded_ to him. He needs to know that I hear and listen to him." And then the kid practically bared his teeth at him as he all-but-hissed out, "I’m NOT like that stupid LIZARD that always WATCHES and never TALKS to anyone. _I_ \--"

Ford raised his left hand and covered Bill’s mouth. (And, Stan didn’t get it, but the demon looked startled -- not angry like he would’ve thought -- and actually stopped talking for a second.)

"I…" Ford swallowed. "Stan, I needed him to talk to me." Stan stared, as Ford glanced away from him. His brother was having trouble meeting his eyes. "I… wasn’t feeling…. well," his brother told him. "Bill…" Ford paused, "Bill did…" and he closed his eyes slightly and looked like he was in almost physical pain as he said, "...the right thing. This _one_ time."

...Ford looked almost ill. Stan felt lost, and more than a little worried at what the demon had done to his brother _this_ time.

"Ford, what the hell did the triangle do to you while I was away," Stan said lowly. (He felt the kid squirm slightly as he lowered him down a bit, lowering his arms and loosening the grip he had on the demon’s shirt; he felt the kid squirm again as he moved one hand from his wrist to Ford’s wrist instead -- on the hand at his mouth. In his peripheral vision, he saw the kid tug at it, and Ford’s hand not move an inch. ...Kid looked frustrated. ~~But he also didn’t try and make a sound.~~ )

"Ford had a nightmare." Miz spoke up. "He came up and threw himself on top of Bill." Might as well _try_ to explain what happened.

Ford looked away, looked guilty.

"Ford…" Stan said slowly. Because… (the hell...)

"I… wasn’t entirely awake," Ford said quietly, almost under his breath. (His grip around the kid tightened a little more. Stan saw Bill’s face twitch, up by his left eye.) "And…" Ford swallowed again. "I couldn’t breathe."

"Ford," Stan said quietly. "If this is a thing like the science teacher--" then he needed to tell him _now_ \--

"No," his brother told him firmly, looking no less guilty for whatever reason. (Maybe for needing the kid for anything at all.) "No. That’s not--"

Stan closed his eyes. Damn his brother sometimes.

\--and his brother looked surprised as Stan reopened his eyes, opened his fists completely, and took one solid step back from the both of them. (Kid looked surprised, too.)

"Kid," Stan said (and oh, he was gonna enjoy _this_ …) "You damn well should’ve known what I meant when I told you, _and your sister knew and told you that too_ ," he added, as the kid looked incensed. "Ford’s sure you sayin’ something was ‘the right thing’?" Stan added, giving Ford a look that almost had his own brother flinching. (...almost. Except then Ford started looking stubborn instead. Well, _fine_. Go ahead and _undermine_ him with the kid here when he was tryin’ to look out for him, would he?) "Fine. --You _still_ didn’t get what I was tellin’ you," Stan said to the demon-kid, "So you don’t get a penalty," heh, so gonna enjoy this one, "You get a _learnin’_ -lesson, instead," Stan told the kid almost evilly.

And Stan grinned at the _both_ of them.

They were both staring at him, a bit wide-eyed. (Heh. Damn well should be, putting him through this--)

"You--" Stan pointed at Bill, "Want to go helpin’ my brother out now with shit like this, huh? That’s fine," Stan said, way way too casually (and he got an internal grin at the look the kid got for that one). "But hey, you’d better get _a bit more **practice** in_." Bill was looking at him like he had no clue what a living hell his life was about to be for the next half-hour or so.

Then Stan looked up at his brother.

"Ford," Stan said almost jovially. "You want to go helpin’ the kid out when he gets in trouble?" he said almost leadingly (oh yeah, his brother could just _deal_ with this one; wasn’t like Stan wasn’t gonna stay out on deck the whole time for this one). "Fine. You get to help out with his penalty, too!" And while the two of them, both demon and brother, were puzzling the hell out of that one, Stan just followed that right up ever-so-smoothly with, "Ford, you are gonna sit down _right_ where you are standing along with the kid, and hug him until I’ve finished getting me and the twins some breakfast. --Kid, you are going to _let him do it_."

Ford and the kid stared at him for one long moment.

And then they both got looks of disbelief (Ford) and horror (for what passed for ‘horror’ for the kid). (...Probably because Ford grasped the kid more tightly in reflexive ‘I need a shield between this and my twin’ here, and got a little preview taste of what he’d be subjected to for the next half-hour, minimum, because Stan was gonna take his sweet time cooking up those pancakes and eating his own damn breakfast, no matter how fast the twins decided to get down to it.)

...And it didn’t take Stan but a minute to get Ford sitting cross-legged (where he’d been standing) with the kid in his lap (squeezed pretty tightly actually), and Stan was practically whistling to himself as Ford looked like he wanted to literally be _anywhere_ else, doing any _thing_ else but what he was doing. And Bill? Had his fists clenched in his lap and looked about as happy as a wet cat; the demon-kid kept making angry noises occasionally (from under the hand Ford still had over his mouth, Stan’s ‘concession’ to Ford not grasping -- read: ‘grabbing’ -- Bill _twice_ as hard with twice as many arms, just and ‘only’ the _one_ ) and glaring out at the world in angry offense. The kid was even twitching _hard_ every couple of seconds in sheer irritation at all the _pressure_ that he was being subjected to, sitting in Ford’s lap, with his back against Ford’s chest, and that arm across his midsection, up to one shoulder.

They both looked _incredibly_ pissed off. (Yeah. That’d teach ‘em.)

(Kid was lucky he was having him do it here. Stan was being ‘nice’ -- he could’ve had Mabel do it once they were all back. ...And oh, Stan was _saving_ that little ‘thought-gem’ for later…)

Stan grinned to himself as he flipped the next pancake on the campstove in front of him, as the twins exchanged glances and waited (somewhat patiently) for him to finish the pancake stack for them all, and as he did so, he hummed a few bars under his breath of the ‘Stan wrong’ song. ...Only he mentally swapped out the lyrics as he went for something a _little_ bit different...

Miz was making odd sounds and blushing as she looked at everywhere EXCEPT at her brother in Ford’s lap. She did nearly explode the orange from how hard she was squeezing it though. When Stan raised an eyebrow and gave her a ‘what’s goin’ on?’ look, Miz mumbled something about… boats?

Eh, whatever. ...Stan figured, as he finished up the pancakes, and very obviously _took. His. Own. **Sweet**. Time._ at eating them, even shooing the twins down to get changed while he kept right one taking one single bite. after another. and then chewing...

Well. Stan figured that, y’know, if his brother _wasn’t_ ‘over’ and ‘immune’ to the demon _before_ now? That Ford really _wouldn’t_ want to get anywhere _near_ the demon again after this one. (Or, at least, he’d damn well remember that Stan could make him do something _real_ damn uncomfortable like this, and that _being around and that close to the kid was actually **a thing that he did not like**_.)

And hey, if Ford actually ‘needed’ the kid for something like this again? ~~(Trouble _breathing?_ The hell? What did Ford mean--?!)~~ Well, the kid wouldn’t be able to claim that Ford grabbing him half-asleep was anything like as bad as what Stan had the two of them doing right now. --So the demon had better not object to doing something in the future that might actually (not that Stan completely believed it, but) _help his brother out_.

And, y’know, ask for clarification right then if there was something he maybe could’ve, y’know, _misconstrued_...

Especially when the kid’s own sister warned the kid about it. Kid oughta be _conservative_ about this shit. And listen to the used-to-be-human demon, when she actually gave him warnings about ‘human things’. --And then do the most-careful thing, up until he got clarification from Stan. _All of which he’d been over with, with the kid before._

Miz very deliberately did NOT say ‘I told you so.’ to her brother afterward. (Besides, she kinda already had.) She DID however, hand him one of her pillows if he needed to vent his frustration, while he stomped right past her into the sandcastle ( _to get away from that Stanford!! RRRARGH!!! **STUPID ENGLISH LANGUAGE!!!** STUPID STANLEY! NOT! SAYING! WHAT HE **ACTUALLY!!** WANTED!!!_) and change into his own school clothes for the day. What a good sister she was.

\-----

Lee was getting an odd feeling when he, Sixer, and the demons went to school the next day. Everyone was whispering and pointing at them, as they were walking down the hallway.

...And no, it _wasn’t_ because the older thems were with them.

Lee groaned. Great. GREAT. They were the talk of the school _again._ And in Lee’s experience, _that_ was a thing that **never** ended well, for either his or his brother’s reputation.

\--He really, REALLY hoped this wasn’t going to be a thing where they got heckled by the other kids again, just like when they were younger. Lee had worked _really_ hard to raise his social standing from ‘brother of that six fingered weirdo’ to ‘oh hey, that funny joke-cracking guy on the boxing team’ (... and his brother’s reputation from ‘that six fingered weirdo’ to ‘your pretty run-of-the-mill nerd with, oh yeah, the hands’).

Miz, who had changed back into Xin for the day (but put up a perception filter to still look like her ‘older Miz’ form), didn’t seem to notice the commotion around them as he chatted with Sixer about how to build life from scratch as they walked down the hallway together. "--nd it’s really all about the proteins. Nothing happens without them. Like, DNA is pretty much just a recipe list for all the proteins needed to create something."

Lee glanced back at the older Stan who was glaring at Bill, because apparently Bill had done something to Mr. Harman yesterday in detention? Lee didn’t really get it but they were going to go and talk to Mr. Harman before class while Xin went to homeroom with him and Sixer.

The older ‘Sixer’ tried to put up a (just verbal!) fight on letting Xin walk off with them alone -- because scary demon-dragon lady eats _people_ sometimes? -- but the older _him_ just glared him down and said that if Xin ate the two of them, that she would have failed in her mission to make sure they attended every class and would graduate high school eventually. Because they apparently couldn’t, y’know, do that _dead_ and eaten.

Seriously, Lee wasn’t so sure about his older self today. All that yelling earlier had been kinda scary. Though that punishment-thing had definitely, _definitely_ been effective. (...He just couldn’t see how he’d managed to make his brother go along with it, though. Because the Sixer _he_ knew would _never_ put up with _him_ telling him what to do like that--)

"Come on, kid," Stan grumbled out as he steered Bill off down another hallway. (They’d been intercepted by a student runner almost at the entrance of the school -- the teach had been _looking_ for them. --Well, _Bill_ , anyway. So they knew what room to go to: the room they’d found the teacher in yesterday afternoon. Stan _already_ wasn’t looking forward to this one, and Ford was already looking twelve different kinds of tense.)

Xin waved at his brother. "See you soon. We have Physics first period today anyway," the dragon said cheerfully. Bill made a disgruntled noise as he followed Stan away, Ford following.

Ford… did not feel like his usual self today. He was not striding down the hallways with his brother; he was trailing behind him somewhat. (And he hadn’t particularly _liked_ being pulled into that whole ‘hugging’ as a ‘punishment’-lesson nonsense that Stan had done. --Not _least_ of which because if Stan was _trying_ to get Bill to actually _like_ the sensation of being touched or otherwise able to withstand at least three layers of clothing’s worth of pressure -- as he had communicated to him before -- then that was _hardly_ the way to go about doing it!)

The older Stan, meanwhile, marched down the halls like he had a reason to be there (and, y’know, not just because he did, actually, have a reason to be there). (...Because apparently the kid couldn’t even talk with nerd-teachers properly, either. Hell. --And Stan knew if he didn’t figure this out, here and now, the kid was gonna be the worst kind of mess back home, at the town high school. So he’d better figure it out right now.)

"That science teacher still in that classroom we yanked him out of yesterday?" Stan asked of Bill. (Hey, the kid had seemed to know what was going on with people and things farther away than just a couple feet. Kid had been able to track his sister when she’d been doing her ‘floating around, messing with other kids’ lives’ thing a couple days ago while they’d been waiting for Ford, outside the science fair; so Stan figured the kid could find other people at the school that were maybe even closer than that, too.)

"Yes," Bill said tersely, with a quick glare tossed Ford’s way for some reason. (It didn’t escape Stan’s notice that the kid was also ‘marching’ down the hallways like he owned them, though it looked more like a leisurely ‘ownership’ sort of thing on the kid... even though the demon-kid was actually moving at a pretty fast clip to keep up with him. Stan hated it a bit, that he had to hand that one to the kid -- the whole ‘beating up the bully’ thing really had worked for him, from the looks and the wide berth the students were giving the kid -- and the lack of getting suspended for the shit the kid had pulled just meant that the kid _did_ know how to assess the situation and balance things out a bit when he needed to.) 

(...Which was, yet again, going to make it that much harder for Stan to convince him that picking a fight and handing out a serious shock-and-awe smackdown to somebody was _not_ the best way to go around making a reputation for yourself.)

"No ‘enlightening’ or ‘inspiring’ anybody without my say-so," Stan said firmly, as they came up on the door to the classroom the teacher was supposed to be waiting on the other side of. "You talk it out with me first, out of earshot of anybody else but you and me. --If that means tossing one of those filters up so I can talk to you, you do it. Understand?" Stan said to the demon who was _supposed_ to be giving him all the help that he could possibly want for this thing that was going on here. Because… "I don’t want _any_ of this shit falling back on the twins you’re supposed to be helping me help out, here. --That includes their teachers not being able to teach ‘em anymore," Stan made clear, sending the demon-kid a glare of his own.

...Bill blinked at him.

Stan got the feeling that the demon still didn’t get it. At least his sister did, though s/he didn’t seem to know how to explain it to her brother in insane-triangle-speak. S/he seemed kinda frustrated about that. Stan almost felt like he could relate; he hadn't been able to explain it to the kid yet, either.

Ford grimaced as they came to a stop right outside of the door to the advanced study room. ...And then it finally occurred to him why he was dragging his feet a bit on this. Why he felt so… off.

It all tied back to not wanting Stan to know what he’d been like, _yes_ , but...

Ford _also_ didn’t like being reminded of the nightmarish nature of what he had seen, and run into, time after time after time, over and over again, in those dimensions where Bill Cipher reigned supreme. He didn’t like being reminded of what happened _every. Single. Time._ that Bill had been _paying attention_ to him, and decided that _someone else_ that he knew… or that was around him… or that was even in the _general vicinity_ of him… could _use_ a little _’enlightenment’_ , and then he’d--

...No. No, that was a bit facetious, and not at the root of it at all, really. Ford didn’t want to see Mr. Harman again, because... he didn’t like being reminded of what he himself had been like. Because Mr. Harman was someone he’d admired. Someone he’d wanted to be like, too. Because the teacher had been--

...and Mr. Harman had reacted far, _far_ more similarly to him than anyone else Ford had seen Bill ‘inspire’ before, and… Ford had _never_ seen it from the outside-in with another human before. And it was so much more… accurate. So much _closer_ than...

...and what would it mean, if Stan couldn’t help him, any more than Ford could?

Because if that teacher was back in the same classroom as the night before...

Ford pulled in a breath.

He watched as Stan raised his hand, turned the doorknob, and opened the door...

\--and was practically _rushed_ almost-immediately by the teacher, who literally _grabbed_ Stan by the arms and--

\--dragged him inside! Ford rushed in after them, to hear the teacher screaming at Stan--

" _\--Did you know?!?!?_ " Mr. Harman shrieked out, practically shaking Stan by the upper arms -- or _trying_ to, but the teacher wasn’t that strong, and Stan was far too solidly built for anyone to be able to manage _that_ with him, easily, besides.

"--I erased it," Ford said quickly, to see the teacher’s feverish gaze land on him, next.

" _You--_ " Mr. Harman let go of Stan and--

\--Ford didn’t have a chance to move out of the way. He only saw the hands that were damn near grasping _claws_ rake the air less than a centimeter away from his glasses, as Stan dragged him back.

The teacher was shrieking insults and curses at him, the boards were half-covered with equations again ~~(were they the same ones as the night before? some of them looked to be written almost in Bill's own handwriting--)~~ , and Stan was having trouble keeping him from attacking--

\--and Bill got right up in the teacher’s face, grabbing him by the wrists and staring straight into his eyes.

The teacher quieted as he recognized Bill.

Ford’s stomach plummeted.

And then Bill said, "Did you eat and sleep last night."

Ford stared.

"...No?"

He heard Stan let out a breath.

"That’s a problem," Stan said next, from behind the teacher’s back. (Stan had his arms wrapped up around his shoulders from below. Bill was still holding the teacher by the wrists.) "Why didn’t you do that?"

"I-- I _couldn’t_ ," Mr. Harman said, eyes flicking around, between the chalkboards, across and back and forth to barely alight on anything in the room for more than a second of time. "I-- I was _going_ to," he said next.

"Why didn’t you?" Stan repeated evenly, as Bill continued to… try and catch the teacher’s gaze in his own? He was... moving his head around, like he was trying to intercept it--

"I-- I came back to copy everything down," the teacher said next, in the previous day’s old rumpled and slept-in looking clothing. "I was going to go home with it, work on it there, and-- _and_ \--"

Ford felt ill. The man sounded about to cry at the last; his head was hanging low, facing the ground.

"You’ve got class in a couple minutes," Ford heard Stan say next, to his utter disbelief -- because there was _no way_ that this man would be capable of teaching any kind of class in this state--!

"I-- it’s--" The teacher shook his head from side to side, looking desperate. "I _need_ to finish--"

"You’ve got class," Stan repeated. "Your students need you."

"It’s-- I--" the teacher began.

...And then Ford saw it.

The _tipping_ point.

Mr. Harman was a very good teacher. He cared about his students very much.

But there was a limit to that. And Mr. Harman loved science, too. He taught science because he loved it.

And in a battle like this, given a choice between _science_ and _his students_...

Ford saw that tipping point. And he saw which way Mr. Harman began to tilt and overbalance.

"--The students can wait," Ford said in a rush, trying desperately to forestall the inevitable, ~~because--~~. "The--" He stopped at the look Stan gave him. (What…)

"Did you go home at all last night," Stan said next, and Ford got a _very_ bad feeling.

Mentally, Stan was grumbling _'The fuck, Ford?!'_ It wasn’t like he wasn’t _paying attention_ to this shit. He’d seen the guy get stuck there, and start to go the wrong way.

Mr. Harman shook his head.

"Okay," said Stan. "Why not? You’ve got your wife and kid waiting for you there, yeah?"

The man shuddered, eyes going wide as he realized, right. How could he have forgotten--

\--but the _science_. The _meaning_ of it all. It was so _important_.

"I-I wanted--" He let out a sob. "I _needed_ \--"

\--and he’d been home late before. And his science, it was _so_ important. His wife understood when he needed to finish his work for the students -- surely, Suzie would understand this. She knew that he needed his space sometimes, to work on these sorts of things, too. And he’d--

Ford looked on in horror, as he saw the man twist in place, in Stan’s hold.

"Your family needs you, too. Don’t they?" was what Stan said next, and--

Ford saw it next. That horrible, horrifying thing...

The _breaking_ point. Mr. Harman had reached it. Stan had pushed him to it, with only a few simple words.

Oh, it was telling. How his brother just didn’t _understand_...

"Why can’t you do both?" Stan said next, and Ford saw the teacher, the husband, the man, stop sliding and seem to wobble, to orbit that ledge, spinning dizzily in place.

"I _can’t_ ," the man breathed out next, and tears were dripping from his eyes, and he was sobbing as he said, "I can’t, but I _can_ , but I can’t-- I _can’t_ \--"

"Why can’t you?" Stan said next, and Ford had to stifle a shudder. Stan didn’t understand.

"I can't do _both_ \--" the man said next, shuddering in Stan’s arms. "I _can’t_ \--"

" _Why not_ ," Stan insisted-- _angrily_.

"I--"

" _Why not_ ," Stan insisted again.

"--I _don’t have the **time!!**_ " Mr. Harman wailed out, then started fighting against Stan’s grip.

\--and Bill wrenched the man's arms straight-down by the wrists, got chest-to-chest and _nose-to-nose_ with him, and said, " **TIME ISN’T A PROBLEM.** "

Mr. Harman stopped moving entirely.

So did Stan. ...So did Ford.

Ford knew -- he just _knew_ \-- that his brother realized when they’d _both_ heard Bill say that last.

And Ford shivered when he realized that Bill _had_ been listening to him, back on the boat, when he’d complained, objected, _insisted_ , that Bill had been rushing him, had to have been _rushing_ the man--

\-- and Bill had _objected right back_ , insisting that he hadn’t done that. ...Not _on purpose_ \--

"Time… isn’t a... _problem?_ " Mr. Harman said weakly, starting to slowly go limp in Stan’s grasp.

"Time isn’t a problem, yes," Bill repeated, looking the teacher directly in the eyes.

There was a pause, a moment in time during which the only thing Ford could hear in the room was their breathing.

"...I don’t _understand_ ," the teacher said next, and he sounded so _plaintive_... and _lost_...

"I can make time not a problem," Bill said next, before looking up at Stan. "It’s fine."

Stan stared.

"...He doesn’t have to rush," Bill said next, and… Ford realized with a start that it was a _question_ , directed at _Stan_ , and...

"But… But _how?_ " the teacher asked next, ~~like a supplicant asking for--~~ and Ford felt his hackles rise ~~because _that_ was the _next thing_ that went wrong~~...

Bill was still looking over at Stan. "I can control time," he said simply ~~which just had Ford fighting down a shudder, because in the Fearamid--~~. Stan was staring back at Bill intensely, in a way that wasn’t exactly leaving Ford feeling any better about--

Mr. Harman looked very confused, and also awed. "Y-you can--" He glanced back over his shoulder at Stan briefly, then at Ford, his brows scrunched in thought as his gaze finally LOOKED at the two men. ...And then he glanced down and spotted Ford’s fingers, and his eyes went wide. "You’re from--"

\---

Ford couldn’t believe he’d been forced to be a part of this. He also worried about how the younger him was doing, left alone with the other demon...

...twelve hours later in time.

He couldn’t believe that Stan had talked Bill into a nonlinear time loop. (...Well, no, actually, that was perhaps the single most believable thing about what had happened along their own personal timelines over the last few hours -- Stan talking people ~~who should really know better~~ into doing incredibly stupid and dangerous things. --Par for the course, really; at least, Ford should have realized that it would be, for Stan, after Stan had _also_ managed to have convinced every last one of them _not to go after and kill--_ )

Ford forced himself to take a breath in, and let it out again.

He not quite glared at Bill’s slumbering form, on the floor of the basement of Mr. Harman’s house.

And then he glanced over at Stan, who was sitting on the couch next to him, arm around him, leaning up against him… and now fast asleep, if the measure and depth of his breathing was any indication.

Ford could barely manage to believe that they’d actually been able to just walk out of the school without being spotted. (Bill’s ‘perception filters’ were far more dangerous than he’d realized; the students had simply moved around them all as if they were in their own little separate bubble in space, but even the _other_ demon _with an All-Seeing Eye_ hadn’t seemed to notice--)

~~(-- _or had she_ \--)~~

And somehow, Stan had managed to keep them all on an even keel. And managed to convince Bill to-- (Ford shook his head. --How Stan could _possibly_ think that _teaching Bill to **lie** better_ would _not_ be a _very_ short garden path towards getting them all in the very **worst** sort of trouble, was _completely beyond_ him.) And then Bill had gotten them to the teacher’s house without any of them being spotted, and then _moved them backwards through time_ without incident. (Because _of course_ Bill could manage time travel without moving them between dimensions, or anything else, simply **on a whim**. Without any preparation. _Of course_ he could. Because apparently ‘time tape’ was 'the _stupid_ way to do it’.)

...Oh, and apparently _emotional stress_ was a thing with Bill Cipher, now. This was his life.

Ford sent a tired glare over at the slumbering demon on the floor, curled up in the corner of the basement opposite them, and ~~after wishing he was literally _ANYWHERE_ but where and when he was~~ then turned that tired glare upwards at the dimly-lit ceiling above him.

And, eventually, he fell asleep, too.

\---

After the older twins left, Lee was more worried about their surroundings and was keeping an ear out on just what people were saying about them, as the three of them continued to travel down the hallway towards their homeroom class.

_"So their father disowned them? Just because the freak’s science project exploded?" "I was there, it just started smoking and screaming or something!" "Damn, I almost feel kinda bad for them. Can’t believe they got disowned just for that." "Well, I heard that after they got thrown out, those new girls found them and get this, they’re living with them!" "Really? That hot babe and her crazy psycho sister?" "I think the younger one likes them, ugh, what a slut, a twin on each arm?" "Pfth! Like YOU wouldn’t trade places in an instant, a boy on each arm?" "Damn, you think they’re ALL fucking?" "Lucky bastards." "So the Pines lucked out, getting found by those two and taken in, huh?"_

Lee tried very hard not to gag or blush at the stuff he heard. --Aaaaaaaaaah! Their lives were ruined!

He glimpsed Carla at her locker. Lee tried to stifle a wince and was about to turn away from her, not wanting to see her in the arms of Thistle Downe, but then he blinked and realized that she _wasn’t_ with her new boyfriend. The guy was nowhere in sight. ...In fact, she was staring at him, with a kinda weird strained expression on her face. She looked almost… angry?

When she realized Lee was looking at her, though, she flicked her hair back over her shoulder, looking aloof, and let out a huff at him as she turned away and hurried off to class, books in hand.

Lee frowned. What was _that_ about? (Sure, he'd driven the guy’s van off a cliff that one time -- but hey, it hadn't even been that high up! --It had only flipped twice! Nobody had any proof that he’d been the one to do it, either! And it wasn't like the girlfriend-stealing jerk had been **in** it at the time…)

Lee felt someone take his hand. Lee glanced over to see Xin giving him a worried look.

"Don't think about it too hard." Xin said gently. "I think she's more mad at your brother than she is at you. Unless I'm misunderstanding something at least." Xin frowned, his eye brows coming together in thought.

Lee still thought it was a little weird that he saw a handsome young man while everyone apparently still saw that sexy bombshell form. It was even weirder because he could still see Miz's female teenage form sometimes too, when he glanced out of the corner of his eyes at them. ...Not, y’know, a terrible kind of weird or nothin’, just… not something he was used to. (Kinda made his eyes itch a little, even without his glasses on. Not that he _had_ any, after he’d broken his last pair. Woulda messed up the ‘jock’ image he had going. Not like anybody thought of him as anything other than the ‘sweaty twin’ otherwise...)

Still, he let the dragon pull him away to homeroom, where Lee held back a groan because the kids were whispering _there_ , too. ...Aw, hell. Did EVERYONE know that Sixer and him were disowned by their Pa just because that damn science fair project broke?!

Meanwhile, Xin was grinning to himself. Operation: Spread The Word was a success! So everyone knew about the broken science project now. And everyone knew that because it broke, little Stanford was disowned (with the specifics of HOW he was thrown out ranging from tossed out on his ass, to Filbrick beating him with his belt first THEN throwing him out). He’d been hoping that news would have made Carla feel guilty, but it didn’t seem to be happening. Still, next step was to spread the word that someone had sabotaged Ford’s project (which was already a rumor, he just needed to confirm it). And then the teachers would get upset at that news. And then all he had to do was let slip just WHO had done it, and little Carla would be in SO much trouble!

...Xin thought it was a good plan. He saw Mary and waved. Speaking of the next part of his plan…

"Morning~" Xin said cheerfully. He turned to the twins. "Can I go sit with my new friend?" Sixer shrugged, not seeing the problem. Lee... just eyed the nearest openable window (hmm, he’d have to keep an Eye on him, make sure he didn’t try and make a break for it… --Well, he had his telekinetic weirdness powers if he tried! He could just float him right back to his seat! HAHA! Weirdness powers, for the win!)

No objections raised, Xin made his merry way to the back where Mary was (HA!) and slid into a desk beside her. "So, I noticed that the whole school knows the story by now." Xin said cheerfully. Mary stiffened. "Sorry! I only told Katie because she’s my best friend but--"

Xin silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips. "Shhh~ it’s fine." He grinned. "But if you do tell people about what happened, you should at least get the full story first." He grinned internally as Mary’s eyebrows went up and her friend said, "You mean that’s not all of it?"

Xin looked around. Most of the kids were huddled in their own little groups, a few were glancing over at the Stans, some at him and some at his brother. Xin lowered his voice into a conspiratory whisper, "Little Stanford’s project exploded right? Did you know, it was sabotaged the night before?" Mary’s eyes were wide. "No. Way." she whispered back.

"Yes way!" Xin nodded seriously. "Someone snuck into the gymnasium the night before and messed with it." Mary gasped appropriately to the gossip. "How do you know?" she asked. Xin looked around again before leaning in. "The screws had been loosened. Someone had opened it up and didn’t put them back in correctly."

Mary frowned. "So someone messed with it, and… their dad threw them out? That’s horrible!" She hadn’t realized that their dad was like that...

"I know right?" Xin nodded. "I have a few suspects for who did it… but I’m gonna need proof. That’s the hard part. But I will say it is someone at this school." And then, just to clarify, "It’s not any of us here in this room," Xin moved his arms to gesture around them. Didn’t want the rumor mill thinking it could be little Stan who'd dunnit or something.

Mary nodded at her, then sat back abruptly as Mrs. Kimberly came in.

Their homeroom teacher looked around, then gave Miz a brief look before reading off the notices for the day. She also took attendance, glancing at the rest of the class to check if they were here. She frowned again as she realized that Bill was missing, but Miz raised her hand and told her that Bill was in a parent-teacher meeting with Mr. Harman because of the detention from last night.

Mrs. Kimberly nodded and relaxed a bit when the Pines twins confirmed Miz’s words. Alright, then. (She let out a sigh. Apparently the girl had managed to get the detention she’d wanted after all. She’d really thought John was smarter than that, but…) She wasn’t all that sure how to feel about the new girls. In just one day they had become the talk of the school. And with all the odd rumors circulating... Her frown grew slightly as she realized that she actually hadn't seen her friend yet this morning, which was odd for him. --John Harman was known even by the students for his punctuality and preparedness, yet she hadn’t even seen his lunch in the fridge in the teacher’s lounge that morning, when she’d added her own to the bunch; she’d thought he must be out sick that day. But he was apparently _somewhere_ in the school for some parent-teacher meeting before class?

She wasn’t sure what it all meant, but she just wanted a quiet day. ...At least the new girl didn’t seem to be causing trouble during homeroom, without her sister here with her. The younger sister even looked like she was making a new friend.

Mrs. Kimberly glanced over at the two boys next. She HAD heard the specifics of several of the rumors that were making the rounds among the students -- particularly the one about the Pines twins being disowned by their father. ...Well, she and the rest of the teachers had gotten the paperwork for the two new students, and she’d finally had a chance to look it over. ...And it wasn’t just for the two new students; there had been a paperwork change for the twins as well. --The twins HAD gotten their guardianship transferred over to another person, and had a change in address processed for each of them; it was the same person who was listed as the new girls’ guardian, in fact. She wasn’t sure what it all meant, but those poor boys really had been… well, Mrs. Kimberly didn’t really know much about their homelife situation, but...

...if even a _quarter_ of what she’d heard so far from the rumor mill was true? Those poor boys. And it was all over Stanford’s broken science project? Why? --She had half a mind to make a trip to the Pines' household and have a talk with their father, but it seemed like they had someone else in the family looking after them for the time being; at least their relatives were taking over somewhat on this. ...And she should probably just leave it all alone and let them do it. Her husband had always told her she was a busy-body, wanting to interfere with her students’ lives. They weren’t children anymore; they were teenagers. But the idea of those boys being thrown out to the streets was just awful.

...She should probably ask for her _own_ ‘parent’-teacher conference with their current guardian, though. Just to be apprised of the situation from the horse’s mouth, as it were, rather than a single page of official documentation and the students’ rumor mill, which was notoriously counter-factual at times. ...Why, she could remember the last time the students had been riled up over something _this_ badly, and half her students had been absolutely _convinced_ that--

The bell rang and she shook herself out of her own internal musings, as the students began getting up from their seats. As the Pines twins walked past her, Mrs. Kimberly couldn’t help but give them a gentle, "If you boys need any help, or wish to talk, my office is always open." (And she could sent a request direct to their guardian through the school’s official mail. No need to worry either of the Pines twins over her wanting to speak with their relative so soon after the change in their living situation.)

Lee gave her a surprised blink but turned away and nodded, a little embarrassed.

Xin waved goodbye to Mary and walked back over to his group. "We have Physics first!" Xin said aloud, to remind himself of the schedule. "I wonder if Mr. Harman is doing better? I still need to find Miss Talia and see if she's okay."

As they walked to class, Xin was looking around, checking on spread of the latest addition of the rumors. It was going well. People were already gossiping about the supposed saboteur. Would this make Carla nervous? They saw her walking past them down the hall. She was glaring before turning away and continuing on.

Actually, now that he thought of it… Xin turned to Sixer as they walked to the Physics classroom and asked, "So what did you do to your brother's girlfriend to make her so mad at you?" Because there was some jealousy there, of Carla being overlooked academically by their teachers in favor of little Ford, which he'd Seen. But, there was something else that had happened that Xin wasn't sure he fully understood.

"Carla?" Sixer looked caught off-guard, confused at the sudden question. Lee narrowed his eyes and stared. "--What’re you talkin’ about?" he asked Xin, glancing over at his brother. "What’s he talkin’ about?" Lee said a good bit less suspiciously to his brother.

For his part, Sixer shrugged. "I’m not sure? I don’t think I’ve really talked to Carla all that much." He adjusted his glasses, then looked over to Xin, almost as if he was waiting for a better question, one which he could answer.

...So he didn’t know either? Or was Sixer unwilling to talk about it? Xin pouted but let it go for now. Fine. He would just need to investigate this himself. Because sure, Carla had been upset at Lee and Sixer, but even if the broken project was just an act of careful sabotage for revenge, the fact that she didn’t seem all that upset that Sixer had been disowned was… worrying. Was she really THAT mad? Why? Lee had always been nice to her. Sixer… was very good at hurting people’s feelings since he had the social awareness of a spoon and pretty much managed to offend people constantly… but what had he done that was so bad that Carla wouldn’t care if he was thrown out to the streets?

They were approaching the Physics classroom. Xin Flickered to check his schedule, and suddenly realized that since they didn’t have Art today, he wouldn’t get to talk to Miss Talia -- but he really needed to. She was missing her first period class right now! He Saw it!

"Uh, hold my stuff, I’ll be right back. --Tell Mr. Harman that I had to go to the bathroom or something," Xin told Lee hurriedly as he handed his backpack over and turned to run down the hallway.

Lee watched him go. ...Huh. What was _that_ all about?

\--Better question: could he get away with leaving the school to try and find a second job while she was away?

The backpack in his hand rumbled and the zipper opened and moved like a mouth, "Don’t even think about it mister!" the backpack squeaked out at him.

Lee stared down at the backpack, that had just talked in the dragon-lady’s girl-dragon voice to him. And kinda looked about ready to eat him if he tried anything on it-- him-- _her(??)_ \-- uh...

"Yes, ma’am," Lee said, and Lee twitched as he walked down the hallway with his brother (who was _taking notes_ on "this latest weird occurrence…" in his notebook -- yeah, great help there, bro, thanks a lot...) towards their physics classroom. Okay, so Xin could bring his backpack to life too?!

Lee shuddered and held the backpack out at arm's length, as far away from himself as possible.

...And then handed it over to Sixer, who, on the other hand, was very much interested in this new development and was making excited grabby hands at the backpack, now that he’d finished writing his initial findings and observations down. (‘Freedom!’ thought Lee, with a boatload of relief.)

\---

Xin found Miss Talia in her office, where she'd been all of yesterday night and this morning. He knocked on the door but she didn't respond so he let himself in (unlocking it via a flick of the wrist) -- hey, she didn't say he couldn't. Besides, this was an emergency. "Miss Talia?" he asked softly.

The woman was staring at the charcoal sketch. She had hung it on her wall and was seated right in front of it, blinking her eyes to watch the drawings move. Xin walked over and tapped her shoulder. "Miss Talia?" She didn't look away from the picture. Xin frowned. "You need to stop." He turned the teacher’s chair around, away from the charcoal drawing--

\--and the woman _shook_. "No, wait--!"

"Nope, you need to take a break." Xin told her firmly, rolling her chair even farther away and planting himself between her and the picture. "Ma'am, I appreciate that you enjoy my work, but you have a class you're supposed to be teaching."

"Self study. I-I left a note!" Miss Talia said, struggling to try and see around Xin.

The dragon sighed. "That's incredibly irresponsible." He took her face in his hands to move her away from the sketch once more. "Hey. Look at me, talk to me. What's going on with you right now?"

It took a bit, but Xin finally got Miss Talia to look away from the picture. "It’s amazing. How…" The woman reached out to grip onto Xin’s shirt. "The alien thing is true, right?! But… no matter how much I watch them, I can’t figure out what you did! T-there’s no technology on it o-or anything!"

Xin sighed. "Because I didn’t use technology. I used Weirdness." At the blank look he got from the woman, the dragon tried to explain. "It’s like… I sent my intentions and thoughts into the paper. I wanted to make cute little people who could walk around and live in this space, like, I was making a story in my head, a story for the drawing…"

Miss Talia was listening intently. Xin felt a bit strange at trying to talk about this with her; he’d never really tried to explain to anyone how his powers worked before, they just… did. Sure, he knew WHAT he was doing, pulling things together, clicking and stacking things for any physical changes and what-not. Heck, the animated drawing was simply the charcoal he’d placed down being moved around the paper according to the ‘idea’ he’d set down while drawing it. He’d had thoughts of ‘Maybe I could draw it over here instead!’ or ‘What if I had drawn it like this?’ and the paper he’d added the effect to simply took the thoughts of the people watching and rearranged the drawing accordingly. Of course, Xin had set the effect to be somewhat autonomous, so the little people had the barest measure of Will, so that they could move around according to what _they_ felt like doing, too. ...And even leave the paper they were on, but that would result in a much bigger loss of the charcoal that gave them form and they would eventually fade away even more quickly.

"...so it’s like I just…" Xin waved a hand, unsure how to say it.

Miss Talia spoke up, "You just brought your drawing to life, because you believed that it was alive." Xin paused. Well, that was simplifying it, but she wasn’t quite wrong. Miss Talia continued, "As an artist, I’ve always sought to make things that seem alive, not because it looks realistic, but because it would be something that made people sit up and take notice."

The woman chuckled. Only a little hysterically. "You know that saying? About how an image seems to pop out from the canvas, how something is drawn with such passion that it comes to life?" The woman moved to see the drawing and this time Xin let her. Miss Talia was smiling softly as she lightly placed a finger on the skull. "It’s not JUST that these drawings move. It’s… it’s everything else here as well."

The art teacher trailed her finger along the image, so lightly she didn’t even smear the charcoal even the tiniest bit. "I’ve given my students a still life drawing assignment many times. They simply look at what there is to see and draw what they see. But you didn’t just draw what was there." She smiled. "You looked at that deer skull and you saw a house. A place where the little people you drew could live in." She moved her finger to the bird cage. "And here is a little jungle gym they can play on." The woman closed her eyes and laughed lightly. "Watching the people move around is miraculous and amazing, but it’s this underlying intent of your drawing that has so enraptured me."

The art teacher finally turned away from the picture to gaze at Xin. "You didn’t just draw a still life and then add magical people to it, you looked at the objects and you made a _story_." Miss Talia’s eyes gleamed. "It took me a while to understand this. I was so distracted by the people. But they’re not the point of this drawing. They’re not what’s important." The woman seemed to sag in place. "The true beauty of this is how you took something straight forward like a simple drawing of random objects, and turned it into a narrative." She patted the corner of the paper. "Those tiny people? They’re simply playing out the narrative you’ve drawn into the picture. And…" The woman smiled so brightly that Xin was sure she’d be gushing ‘Happiness’ if his headband was off.

"...and that’s beautiful." The woman sighed. "I’ve never had someone do that with any of my still life assignments. They just do the assignment as stated; they simply draw what they see, but they never tried to make it something more." She shook her head, "No, I haven’t even tried to get them to do this, never even thought about it myself." She smiled. "But that’s something I’m going to do now. You’ve opened my eyes to a new way of looking at art. Of _teaching_ art! How every drawing can be a story, no matter how simple or complex."

Miss Talia laughed. "I’ve been doing art for years and never thought about this!" She sounded a little hysterical. "What have I been doing all these years?" She was grinning even as she started sobbing.

Xin winced. "Um… are you alright?" She watched as Miss Talia wiped her eyes, smearing some charcoal dust across her cheeks. "I’m fine, I just… can’t believe I never tried to teach this to children. I feel like a failure as a teacher."

Xin gently wiped the tears from the woman’s face. "Well, it’s not your fault?" he said awkwardly. "And now you know? So you can do that now?" He tried to cheer her up. The woman laughed again.

"Sure. Yes. Right. Anyway, oh… it… feels… nice to finally get this off my chest…" The woman scrubbed at her face with a sleeve. "Oh I’m a mess." She turned back to the drawing.

"I want to watch them forever." Miss Talia said simply. Xin’s response was, "You shouldn’t."

"Right. Right." Miss Talia closed her eyes and turned away from the picture. "I've been… acting kinda crazy haven't I?" she asked quietly, of the girl that she was seeing in front of her.

Xin shrugged. "Everyone's a little crazy, artists are more so, since our _thing_ is about making real the things that only exist in our heads…" Xin shrugged. "But you just need to remember to pay attention to the stuff happening outside your head too." He continued gently cleaning the tears and dust smears away from the woman's face. "Like taking care of yourself, and doing the things you need to."

"...Like teach my class?" Miss Talia laughed. Xin nodded. "Yup. That." He figured this was the best he was gonna be able clean her up. He patted the woman's shoulder. "So, you can keep the drawing, just… don't live for it. There's plenty of stuff out here in the real world too, you know?"

...he felt somewhat hypocritical saying this, considering he would retreat into his own head whenever reality got too hard to handle. Whenever he just couldn't deal with it anymore and wanted to lose himself in his own fantasies or stories. But that wasn't right. Retreating to his happy place with anime and videogames were fun, but he couldn't do that forever.

Reality still existed. He still had his responsibilities.

...and maybe that was okay. Responsibilities weren't something he could run away from forever.

Miss Talia seemed more or less alright now, if a little tired. Xin waved goodbye to her as he headed back to Physics. He felt… better. Like a knot of guilt had been loosened. He’d hurt miss Talia, but she was going to get better. Still, Xin had told her not to feed the drawing anymore.

He made it back to the Physics classroom to see that Bill and Mr. Harman had ‘rejoined the party’ as it were. They weren’t talking with each other, so he figured they must have finished their discussion if they’d had one; they probably had. Xin didn't feel like Looking for it at the moment and simply slid into an open seat near the twins.

Sixer glanced at him, as he played slightly with the zipper on Xin's bookbag. "What were you off doing?" he asked of him.

Xin shrugged. "Settling something that was bothering me."

Xin made a quick glance around. Well, everyone seemed alright. And Mr. Harman looked… okay? Well, better than he was before, at least. Xin took his backpack from Sixer and got his notebook out. "Did I miss anything?"

"No," said Sixer. "Class was just about to--"

Bill grabbed Lee by the shoulder and pulled him over. He sat down next to Xin roughly, and dragged Lee down into a seat next to him.

"Uhhhh," said Lee, as Bill let go of him. The teacher didn’t look so hot, but the demon didn’t look so hot, either.

Bill dropped his arms down onto the desk, dropped his chin down on top of _that_ \--

\--and then turned his head sideways and looked away from them all, seemingly at nothing in particular.

Xin looked at his brother quizzically. "Sleepy?" the dragon asked.

"Tired," Bill corrected her, closing his eyes.

"Rest, I’ll watch over you." Xin told him.

"Mm," said Bill. (He wasn’t too worried. They both had their bodysuits on, with all their associated and included protections. He’d helped Xin-as-Miz with making his-her own, down in the hold a few days ago!)

(...What Bill _didn’t_ and hadn’t thought of yet, really, was the possibility of needing to not just defend against but also temporarily _hide_ from other ‘Bill Cipher’s, though. He just wasn’t used to taking that into account, yet -- especially not with the barrier around the Shack as a set-and-forget-it thing that he had already become used to having as a catch-all to fall back on. And he certainly wasn’t going to do it _now_ , not when he was already tired…)

And then Mr. Harman (looking a bit more harried than usual, not having his usual less-than-hurried prep time before class) cleared his throat and started his normal sort of lecture for the day.

Xin made sure there were protections up (just the way that big brother had showed him!) and also made a mental note to make Bill an especially nutritious lunch today. Once _he_ was sure Bill would be safe if he fell asleep here, Xin turned to the front of the class and tried to pay attention to the lesson. It was basic. Wasn’t bad. 

\---

Xin ‘attacked’ the food in the cafeteria again that afternoon. Nobody complained.

\---

Bill seemed to be operating at lower-than-low energy that day. He didn’t even try for a detention slip in any of their classes. He didn’t _quite_ fall asleep in physics class, but... Xin sent him a slightly fretful glance as they made their way to their next class. How much energy had Bill been using? Wasn’t he having more trouble getting more? Xin was glad that at least he was getting Bill to eat more; it really worried Xin, how tired Bill seemed.

They made it through the rest of the day largely without incident.

(Lee figured that their not having gym class that day helped. ...And, y’know, Crampelter being **nowhere** in sight, which he absolutely was _not_ gonna think about that hard at all, nope, not even a little...)

\---

Lee had never been so happy to have a school day end. Even worse, he hadn’t been able to get away from the demons _this_ day, either. --But hey! At least he was free now!

"So, homework!" he heard Xin say next, brightly.

Sixer perked up and adjusted his glasses.

Lee _groaned_.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  Mizuuma: Wooo! Made it on time!
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  ^_^;;;;
> 
> ...This is where I first started to trip up schedule-wise. Frankly, I was surprised I managed to last this long on a weekly posting schedule with Miz. There are some scenes in future chapters that ended up getting posted as later flashbacks because I couldn't complete them on-time, and Miz liked posting 30K-40K per week. ...Admittedly, by the end of things, we were posting closer to 5K-15K per week instead, because I couldn't keep up the writing+editing pace with how things started picking up with work for me, and then both her and me. A lot of short interludes by Mizuuma were the result.
> 
> (Frankly, I think her readers liked the interludes much better than our collab/crossover chapters anyway, so… win-win?)
> 
> ...I honestly don't know how Mizuuma managed to be so patient with me throughout, let alone during the last several chappys at the end of the arc, instead of straight-up tracking me down IRL and proceeding to strangle me for starting to nearly vanish on her over most weeks until Saturday/Sunday towards the end there, haha. ^_^;;;;; ...Well, other than her being a saint and super-patient?
> 
> (...Hey, I was tired. Fanficcing is fun, crossovers are even better, but this is the first time I'd ever tried to commit to a weekly posting schedule. I found out rather quickly that my mind just Does Not Like Doing That With Me so well.)


	16. Chapter 85: And that’s why I need your help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> A silly idea, but it's not THAT silly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original AN:  
> A/N: Sorry for the short chapter this week. Jo was busy and couldn't write her segment about what they did with Mr. Harman and since it tied into an future scene, we had to cut the chapter here so that people wouldn't get confused when characters reference things that no one knows about.
> 
> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 96 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/45538927). It was first posted on Jun 10, 2019.

\-----

It was Sixer who brought it up first, thinking about the way the older Stan and Ford had ‘controlled’ Bill, dealing out ‘penalties’ and ordering him around. (Of course, Sixer was severely misunderstanding the whole situation, but regardless, it was he who had come up with the idea after he finished his homework.)

\--The older versions of himself and his brother were some kind of monster hunting, demon tamers, right? So, wouldn’t it be cool to start early?

At least, that _was_ the plan, until Miz had somehow overheard Sixer’s conversation with Lee about the subject.

"You are NOT going out to hunt down the Jersey Devil… again." Miz huffed, hands on her hips at the ridiculous suggestion that Sixer had proposed after he’d finished his homework after school that day. After all, Stan had asked her to keep an eye on the boys. --Sure, he'd meant to have her make sure they didn't skip school, but she thought that keeping them out of trouble would be part of it. Also, she was older than them! So she had already mentally categorized them as ‘little cousins' ~~almost like little brothers but not quite~~ and she was going to be a responsible 表姐 cousin/sister (and damn why wasn't there a word for this in English?) and not let them get themselves killed.

"Aww…" the boys whined. "But we could catch it and become famous monster hunters!" Sixer wheedled. Their older selves hunted cryptids, so why couldn't they just… start early?

Miz blinked at this. She tilted her head to the side in thought, and Lee crossed his fingers behind his back, please, please, please! (He was just as excited about the idea as his twin, because being famous? That could get him all the girls! --Sign him up!)

"Well… if you just want to catch something so you can call the press and make yourselves famous…" Miz started to say, making Sixer light up in excited anticipation, "... there's a cryptid right here." And then she pointed at herself.

The twins stared at her, blinking slowly before they finally caught on to what she meant.

Lee twitched. He looked over at his twin, who was looking at her even more skeptically that Lee was, but… yeah, with the look his twin was giving him, Sixer _wasn't_ gonna be the one to say it, was he. Lee sighed.

"Uh… no offense, but you…" Lee looked her up and down; she was currently in her ‘mature’ form (apparently she’d wanted to play with her boobs, which was kinda hot, but Lee wasn't going to say that out loud), and dressed in a loose, long-sleeved oversized t-shirt. No pants. (Because Miz apparently didn't like to wear pants when she was in her ‘relaxing’ clothes.) "...you _look_ like a human," Lee pointed out truthfully. Nobody was gonna be impressed by them ‘catching’ her. He could toss her over one shoulder, easy!

(...Well, okay. Maybe everybody else and their dog at his _high school_ would be impressed, because if they were gonna ‘catch’ _her_ , they’d have to survive _Bill_ to actually get away with it first! But…)

Miz looked down at herself and shrugged. Before Lee could explain why it was a problem when she looked human (among other things…), Miz's body began to twist. Sixer's jaw dropped as Miz grew larger and larger, golden scales spreading across her skin like a rippling of sand in the wind.

The two stared, wide-eyed, when Miz stood up on all fours, large triangular head with a single eye staring down at them on the end of a long, serpentine neck.

"T-that's so COOOL!!!" Sixer squealed, already running up and reaching for her.

"--Sixer!" Lee cried as he reached out, trying to pull him back. Because holy shit it really _was_ a DEMON DRAGON and her mouth was large enough to swallow him whole if she--!

\--and she was _purring_ loudly as Sixer pet her neck...

...and, uh, looking really happy at getting pet like that, with the way she sort of flopped over there…

Lee stared.

Miz carefully settled herself onto the deck of the boat; the older versions of them were off somewhere -- doing _something_ , Lee didn't remember what -- so it was just them hanging out on the boat after school. (Bill was napping on top of the roof of the new ‘cabin’ the older twins had finished making that day, though they hadn’t finished outfitting it yet. He hadn’t seemed any less wiped by the end of the day; Lee had no idea what could’ve happened with talking with Mr. Harman to have the demon _that tired_ afterwards, but he wasn't gonna ask _the demon_ about it. Bill was kinda touchy about stuff sometimes.)

Miz rumbled out, "Normally, I'd be mad that you didn't ask before touching me…" (Lee tensed at her words, glancing up at the cabin.) Her head twisted around to watch Sixer as the teenager marveled over her golden brick-like scales. "But you're just so cute I'll forgive you this once." She shook her head, black tendrils wiggling around her head like a living mane. "But you should always ask for permission before laying your hands on someone in such a way." (Yeah, maybe they could just get away with not telling Bill that Sixer had done that without asking, then. Right?)

"Right, sorry." Sixer blushed, but seemed more interested in pulling out his notebook to begin sketching her than continuing the petting she liked. Miz rumbled, nuzzling Sixer's hair with her snout. Preening him gently. Damn these teenagers for setting off all her maternal instincts! She purred again when the teenager continued running his hand down her flank. That felt good!

Lee was slowly relaxing as he saw that Bill wasn't showing his face looking all angry, and Miz was calm and… grooming his brother's hair?! Miz was rubbing the sides of her face along Sixer’s hair, combing it back.

Lee stared at the scene incredulously. Miz was relaxed on the deck of the boat, half-curled around Sixer where he was crouching as he stroked down her back. Lee bit his lip, then took a chance and walked in a little closer. (He stopped a good couple feet away, though.) "You're really big," he pointed out.

Miz purred. "My male form is even bigger," she told him. Her Xin form's full dragon body was large enough to take down spaceships after all. He was the size of a small jet.

Lee shivered. She could get even bigger?! And Sixer didn't seem at all afraid of being so close to the dragon as-is. Lee shook his head.

"So… what's the plan here?" Lee finally asked, because how were they supposed to catch her now?

Miz blinked and shook her head a little. "Well, on Friday, after we all get off school tomorrow, I'm gonna race over here! And then I’ll come up out of the ocean and scare a few beach goers. Then you and Sixer will run over and ‘capture’ me." Miz said cheerfully. "It's Thursday now so we can do this tomorrow."

Yeah, that didn't really answer his question. And... "Why tomorrow?" Lee asked, raising an eyebrow. That seemed kinda… rushed.

Miz scoffed. "So you'll have the whole weekend to ride out your fame train before the government sends people to pick me up to bring back to their labs for study." Miz shrugged in a full body rippling motion. "After which, I will escape from the incompetent government officials while you two will be hailed as town heroes and monster hunters!" Miz sounded delighted at the idea.

Yeah… there were _so_ many ways that could go wrong. First of which… "And what are you gonna do if you can't escape from the government?" Not even touching on what Bill was going to do when he found out his precious little sister was captured by a bunch of government mooks!

Miz managed to look offended. "I can escape just fine! And if all else fails, Bill will help." she giggled. "It'll be our first Con together!"

Lee let out a sigh. --Bill 'helping out' was _exactly_ what he was worried about! And Miz still hadn't told them… okay, maybe he should just ask straight out? "How're we supposed to capture you anyway? You're _huge!_ "

Miz lidded her eye at then and purred. "Well, that's something you aspiring monster hunters will have to figure out yourselves, now isn't it?" she said smugly.

Sixer grinned at the challenge and Lee laughed (a little more nervously than he wanted to, as he glanced back at the cabin on deck again). "Well then, let's prove we can rustle up a dragon!" Sixer exclaimed. Then they both squeaked when Miz picked them up, wrapping her tail around them and flying up and over the railings, to deposit them gently in the sand.

Miz grinned at them as the younger twins got their breath and bearings back. "You can practice. You're done with your homework right?" She wiggled.

"Of course!" Sixer frowned. "I always get my homework done first." Lee winced slightly and looked away, whistling innocently. Miz rolled her eye. She'd help Lee with his homework later. For now...

"Rawr~" she said playfully, wagging her tail back and forth like a whip in excitement behind her as she faced them, then stopped for a moment. "Oh. Rules! No binding circles and no grabbing my wrists," she stated.

"...This _is_ okay, right?" Lee asked glancing back up at the boat and the cabin atop it yet again. "You're not gonna bite _us_ or nothing, either, right? And your brother's gonna be fine with this?"

"Of course!" Miz said, so matter-of-factly that Lee decided to stop worrying about it, right there and then. "--Ready?"

The twins glanced at each other, then nodded…

\--and Lee immediately dashed forward and jumped onto her back, attempting to pull her down despite her size. Miz giggled and stomped around in the sand with him hanging off her back. She growled playfully and bucked, trying to dislodge the teenager.

"Whoa!" Lee laughed as he held on, grinning. This was like a rodeo, right? He whooped as Miz jumped and thrashed along the sand, giggling. Sixer laughed as he watched them... play(?).

Lee slid down her back a bit, but then got a better hold on Miz's tail away, grunting as his muscles flexed and he pulled at it, trying to pull her down. " _Whoa!_ " he cried as he was lifted up into the air. Lee held onto her tail as she dangled him above the sand. "Uhhhh… heh," he said, grinning and blushing slightly as she brought her head around to look at him where he dangled. Yeah, if she'd wanted to eat him, he'd be toast right now. --Must mean she liked him, since she didn’t!

"Hm, maybe you guys should use a net? Or try some sort of other method for taking me down?" Miz wondered. Lee was about to say something when Miz suddenly squeaked and crumpled to the ground, purring.

The tail dropped (-- "Woah!" --) and so did Lee. Lee stumbled to his feet and turned around to see... Sixer scratching along Miz's belly. (Yeah, his twin had looked at him like he'd had a plan that needed him doing some distracting for him, but Lee had thought that _that_ had meant… well, guess not.) The dragon was laying on her side, purring and twitching, and Sixer was grinning up a storm. "Looks like I've caught you," he said triumphantly.

Miz purred and whined "Nnnnno faaaaair!!!" Her legs kicked. Sixer laughed as Miz rolled onto her back, kicking her legs in the air and writhing in the sand.

The two were laughing as Lee stared. "Well... I guess we caught a dragon," he said awkwardly as he watched the two tumble around in the sand. It was almost… cute? So, wait, were demon dragons just giant cats or somethin', then? This was kinda like how their ma's cat acted, only, y'know, bigger…

Lee was watching this all kinda critically, when he nearly jumped out of his skin at the " _WHAT ARE YOU **DOING?!**_ " that the old-Ford was yelling out at them frantically.

Ford and Stan were making their way across the beach to them at a pretty fast clip. Ford had his hand down by his gun, twitching as he saw just how close the younger him was to those sharp claws and teeth, and he went pale. The man-eater was huge, easily large enough to snap up anyone in her jaws. (He hadn't been able to see her before, the first time she'd changed into a _large_ 'dragon', only in her smaller form on the deck with Mabel -- and if he _had_ seen _this_ sooner...) Stan's hand at his elbow was the only thing stopping him from outright shooting her now.

That, and how Miz was giggling with her mouth _closed_ where she was lying in the sand next to his younger self. Her belly was exposed and seemingly-vulnerable, but the instant she heard Ford's voice, she stiffened and rolled back to her feet, backing up, crouching down a bit, and… putting Sixer bodily between Ford and herself? Her pupil had shrunken from its wide openness back to a thin slit as she stared at him. (Ford's own eyes narrowed as well, as he took in the scene a little more fully, along with Lee's almost-guilty look.)

"Yeesh. What's with all the yelling..." they all heard muttered out from up on the deck, and they all stopped and looked up as Bill poked his head out over the side of the deck cabin above them. To Ford, it looked like the triangle demon was lying flat on his belly up there, and from the way he was blinking down at them from his (rather well-situated) vantage point (because _of course_ Bill would always opt for the highest of high ground, of course he would...), the triangle demon had clearly only just woken up and was still trying to get his bearings.

"Go back to sleep, kid," Stan called up to him. "I got this. It's fine." This led to another grumble and the head disappearing from view. Stan let out a sigh. "Ford, you maybe want to…?" Stan gestured up at the deck.

Ford grimaced -- he didn't really _want_ to 'babysit' Bill for his brother, but Stan clearly would be the one to do better managing this mess down in the sand. He still didn't trust the other demon with his brother, but Stan did seem far better at 'handling' her -- at least while she still seemed to be actually inclined to continue 'playing along' with Stan for the moment.

So Ford stiffly walked past Miz and climbed his way up the side of the boat and back up onto the deck, as requested. They saw him scale the ladder up to the top of the cabin up on deck next, and a few low grumbles back and forth that none of the other humans down in the sand could quite catch.

Stan sighed. He hoped that Ford could get the demon to go back to sleep without issue. Kid had been wiped before after the whole thing with the teach, even with the nap; waking up _now_ probably hadn’t made anything better, they hadn’t been away all that long. (...Hell, maybe the demon could convince his brother to fall asleep up there, while he was at it. Not that that was real likely at this point, even though Ford could probably use the nap himself. The longer 'day' had obviously been getting to him, with the way he'd been baging things out with that hammer and wood earlier that day...)

"So, what's happenin’ here?" Stan asked, turning away from the boat and looking at the rest of them with a raised eyebrow.

Sixer blushed a little. "We-well, um…" he stuttered. Lee didn't look any more likely to talk, neither. Stan frowned at the two of 'em both. --So, the two of 'em had been doin' somethin' that the _both_ of them knew they really shouldn't be doin', huh.

Miz raised her head and scoffed. "The kids wanted to capture a cryptid so they could kickstart their careers as professional monster hunters. So I thought it would be fun to let them pretend to catch me, get a bunch of fame and possibly money as they become known town heroes, then escape after the government sends people to try and take me back to their labs!" She grinned, revealing rows and rows of needle sharp teeth. "A con that doesn't hurt anyone!"

"Uh huh." Stan deadpanned. There were so many things wrong with that one… but hey, he was gonna start with the first things first, same way as he did with the kid. "So what was with all that wrestlin’ in the sand that was goin' on there?" Stan asked her wryly, crossing his arms.

Dragon-Miz ducked her head. "I used to play with my children like that back when they were young," she admitted. Heck, the twins had loved pulling on her arms and legs. They'd never set off her fear response while they'd been playing, probably because she trusted them wholeheartedly and couldn’t even conceive of them being a threat. Hard to fear someone that you’ve raised from birth after all.

Stan sighed. _Children_ , right. He didn't really respond to this; this had come up in bits and pieces when he'd been talkin' with the dragon-lady before. (He wondered if Ford was hearing this one, though. His brother hadn't really said anything when Miz had said she'd had a daughter with the whole PTSD thing, but…)

Lee and Sixer stared as well. "You're a mother?" Lee asked incredulously, because, yeah, he knew she was like a bazillion years old or whatever, but she acted like a _kid_ most of the time! He just couldn't see her as a… parent?

Miz giggled. "What? I don't look like I've raised four kids? Well, only one of them was actually mine; I co-parented with ‘Ronica for her twins and I adopted Quackers."

...Yeah. If Ford was hearin’ this, he was probably having some kind of silent apoplectic fit up there now, Stan figured. Because Miz wasn't just talkin' adoption or stealing, here. --Not if one of them was 'actually hers'. Hadn’t Ford said that demons just _couldn’t_ have kids of their own?

Miz made another ripple-shrug. "So," she turned back to Stan. "Can the twins capture me to present me as a scientific anomaly so they can gain fame and fortune and a cool reputation as monster hunters? It'll be useful to have a rep if little Sixer wants to be a paranormal researcher when he grows up?"

Stan raised an eyebrow. ...Right. "And how does _your brother_ feel about you being ‘captured’?" was Stan’s first question to her, because he seriously didn’t think that the kid would have been okay with any of what the demon dragon-lady had just said at all. She couldn’t have run any of this by him yet. And speaking of ‘problems’...

"--Miz, toss up a filter before you answer that for me, yeah? Just you and me hearin' this stuff for awhile," Stan said next. Once she’d done it (Miz flicked her tendrils and the air shimmered a little; the sound around them seemed a little quieter now), Miz nodded to him. Then and only then, Stan continued with, "Look, don’t you have an issue with being _bound_ an’ stuff?" The whole ‘wrists’ and getting dragged down to the ground PTSD thing, from the binding circles she’d talked about there? 

Miz’s dragon form wasn’t capable of most expressions but she still managed a pout. "But this isn’t binding. It’s playing. It’s different." Stan gave her a skeptical look, so Miz clarified with, "I already told them ‘no binding circle’ and ‘no grabbing my wrists’. So it’s gonna be fine."

Stan sighed. Welp, that was already probably more than the kid would be happy with her sharing, but she'd done right in telling the younger twins. Except… "And what if they grab your wrists by accident? Or if those government soldiers you're plannin' on having coming after you to take you away, go off and _they_ grab your wrists?" the old con man pointed out next.

Miz blinked and considered that. Then she looked down at her wrists and some sparkles of light flickered into being around them for a moment. "There. Now nothing can close around them." She wagged her tail. "So it’s not a problem!"

Stan sighed again. The hardest part about dealing with Miz was how impulsive she was. She’d go off and get an idea in her head, and then go through with it right away before thinking things through, even a little. The kid, at least, seemed to plan things out to the nines, however he could; there was practically a built-in delay there, with him. But with Miz…

"And what if those government soldiers try and stuff you inside a moving vehicle?" Stan asked her next, because there was no way that they were gonna be able to move her any other way; helicopter wouldn’t work, and neither would a boat. That left some kind of tractor-trailer or truck or something.

Miz blinked as she suddenly realized this. "Oh. I forgot about that…" She frowned. "I think it’s just cars, the normal kind that people drive around. I don’t have a problem with the larger vehicles, since they’re more likely to survive a crash…" She shivered a little.

Uh huh. Right. "They’ll be putting you in a cage," Stan told her. "Either inside a trailer, or out on a flatbed. ...Or on a hook-up trailer to the back of a truck," he added. "None of those are real safe. And if it’s one of those last two, there’ll be people rubbernecking from here to wherever. That means at least a few car crashes, probably."

Miz hung her head. "I didn’t think about that…"

"Yeah, I _know_ you didn’t think of that," Stan muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "That’s the whole problem. You didn’t think about nobody’s safety if everything went ‘right’, let alone if something went _wrong_." Stan frowned at her. "You definitely didn’t think about your _own_ safety again, either. --And that’s gonna tick off the kid, again," he told her, eyeing her and watching her wilt a bit under his gaze. "--Hell, you said that you panic and destroy things around you when you get bound." The only way he could see that ‘working’ was with a net, and then hog-tying her legs together, and maybe even her tail too. ~~(...Or just chopping that tail right off.)~~ "You really didn’t think of this before thinkin’ about letting the boys try to capture you?"

"No." Miz winced and looked down, the tendrils around her head drooping sadly. "I didn’t think of it," she said quietly. "I’m sorry. I… usually have one of my friends there to point out when I’m being dumb…" She slumped over into the sand. "I’m not really good at… thinking things through when I’m caught in the moment of a fun-sounding idea."

...Yeah, Stan was seeing that now. He sighed. "Kid, you _really_ gotta start thinking things through a hell of a lot more." He scratched his cheek. "Heck, how did you raise four kids when you're all not thinkin’ things through like this?" Being a guardian was one thing, but a parent? "Are you tellin’ me that your kids could see you freakin’ out or gettin’ hurt and not--" Stan cut himself off as he realized -- she’d brought up that ‘Quackers’ before. That had been the daughter that had jumped in and tried to help her with the binding-PTSD thing and gotten mindwiped or something, right?

Miz hung her head. "I was in my adult-mode mindset," she admitted. "And I DO still get breakdowns… but only when shit happens…"

Stan raised an eyebrow. Her what-mode _mindset_? The heck was this, now? "And what ‘mode’ are you in right now?" Stan took a wild-ass stab at.

Miz pawed at the sand sheepishly. "My child-mode?" With some parts of her Big-sister-mode coming through.

"Define ‘adult-mode’ and ‘child-mode’?" Stan tried. He hadn’t heard anything like this from the kid before, or Miz, and he might as well try and figure this out now, before it became a problem later. (Because, y'know, why wouldn't it, if it had her maybe almost getting herself grabbed in a way that'd have her killing people 'by accident’, saying ‘yes’ to things that she really shouldn’t be.)

Miz slumped. "Like… if I’m letting more or less of different parts of myself to be expressed? It’s a little hard to explain? I don’t really switch modes so much as I slide around between them?" She tilted her head. "The form I’m in tends to affect it, which I only realized recently. My triangle form shifts mindsets the most quickly."

Miz continued, "I think it was a sort of an unconscious thing at first, where when I'm trying to be a responsible adult I worry more about stuff. I get stressed but I'm more careful. Child-mode is more relaxed, I just focus on wanting to have fun or be pampered and don't let myself worry as much about life in general." She sighed. "It's easier to just… shift mindsets instead of getting stressed out." Miz frowned. "But you're right. I should have thought about their safety first. I'm sorry." She bowed her head at him.

"Yeah. Might want to think about what ‘mode’ you’re in when you’re makin’ decisions about stuff that means somebody’s gonna be physically touching you or anything, from now on, before you say anything to anybody who’s not me, yeah?" Stan told her. Miz nodded once, and Stan figured that was the best he was gonna get out of her on this for the moment. So he told her to take the filter down, waving a hand at it, and she did. 

Stan sighed. ...Well. This was a thing, huh. --Guess it made more sense that she _could_ maybe be 'more responsible’ sometimes, if she'd had to raise her younger sisters way back when, though. Stan sighed as he thought things through just a little bit more.

"Look, before you do whatever fun thing you think of, stop and think about any safety precautions you should set up first, too," he grumbled out at her. Might as well make it more general for the ‘fun’ stuff that Ford always complained to him about -- because apparently ‘demon fun’ was different than regular fun, right.

Miz nodded. She glanced down at herself and mumbled something to make more little sparkles dance along her skin before fading. Without prompting, she told Stan, "A shield against bullets, tranq darts, tasers and other such things that might be used to try and hurt or subdue me. As well as a barrier to block impacts, if they DO put me in a car, having that layer of protection helps with my peace of mind." Then she nuzzled Sixer and Lee and they sparkled for a second as well. "Protection from any harm from me," she said simply.

Stan sighed. Well, at least she was thinking some of the ‘safety’ things now, especially for the ‘goes right’ stuff. But... "Miz," Stan said in grumpy tones, giving her a _look_ , "You gotta remember to _ask_ first before you do spells, yeah?"

Miz blinked. "Oh, right. Forgot…" Stan was more than a little worried that Miz had _forgotten_ this; the _kid_ didn’t forget things. So what did that mean about anything that he told her? But, more importantly for right _now_...

"What do you mean, ‘protection from any harm from you’?" Stan asked her. Because that was broad as hell. _So_ broad it didn’t _mean_ anything to him.

Miz raised a hand and _slowly_ brought it down on Sixer as Stan watched; it stopped a foot above his head with a ‘plink’ sound as a colorful barrier shimmered into view briefly. Stan's eyebrows raised. It looked like a less powerful version of the voodoo barrier around the shack… like back when Bill had brought his fist down on it, trying to flatten the Shacktron.

"You… can protect people from yourself?" was what Stan ended up asking, instead of what he actually wanted to say. (He wasn’t that stupid.)

Miz shrugged and told him, "It's not perfect. It'll eventually break. But it would provide enough for a few minutes to get away from me." ...And that was the best Stan was gonna get, huh?

"How does this protection thing work?" Stan asked Miz next. He was _not_ gonna try to ‘penalty’ or ‘learning-lesson’ her on anything that he didn’t feel pushed to have to. He wasn’t sure he could get away with it, honestly, between the kid probably wanting to go down his throat for it, and Miz herself probably not being on board for any sort of thing like that. He didn’t really have much sway with her; all he really had was _her_ wanting to get along with them, for _Bill_ , and he had no idea how far that went. --Especially not for casting something she thought was _protective_ on the younger twins without asking; she was trying to help and Stan was pretty sure she didn't mean any harm. Penalizing her for _that_ would send the wrong message. He _would_ talk with her more about the whole ‘asking permissions thing’ later. But that could wait. Right now, getting more info out of her on this sort of thing was a _lot_ more important, because...

Miz wagged her tail. "If my powers or I do anything that might hurt them, like trying to hit them or set them on fire, the barrier goes up," she said cheerfully.

Stan frowned a little. "And if this barrier breaks?" he asked her. (Kid had talked about ‘recoil’ and a few other things to watch out for before -- that the kid had bragged about how he always handled them _’properly’_ \-- about spells going wrong or breaking; kid hadn’t said a _lot_ , but…)

Miz rolled her eye. "Setting up a Permanent protection from me isn't safe." (... _for her_. Yeah, Stan knew what she was getting at, there. Miz wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to give some kids the ability to do whatever they wanted to her without her being able to fight back. And she was right not to.) Miz laid down in the sand, legs tucked underneath her. "But this will give them time to get away if anything goes wrong."

Stan thought about that a bit. He briefly considered asking Miz to put that protection on the kids back home too; that might be good to have. But Ford would go ape shit at more things getting cast on the kids that he couldn’t tell what it was. And with the barrier around the Shack, every time they came inside any spell-stuff would just go kaput; they’d have to recast it every time… If they _were_ gonna do something like that, well.. Stan figured that he’d talk to Bill about it later. The kid might be able to set something up that did that whole passive-active thing, and Ford could tell if the kid was lying, even if he couldn’t tell with Miz...

...except the kids would probably just get that much more reckless about junk, and they’d _just_ ended up in this mess because of the kids going off and doing something stupid and reckless in the first place. And the kid (and Miz) might think that they’d be okay with ‘lashing out’ once in awhile, as long as they didn’t do it _bad_ enough to break the protection. --Yeah, no. Better to just have the kids be careful, both demon _and_ human.

Stan looked Miz over. She seemed pretty sorry about her oversight and all, so... and Stan sighed. "Well, just make sure all the safety precautions are in place before you do stuff," Stan told her. They could talk more about it in the attic again, once they were all back home. He could, y’know, _remind_ her again, if she needed it. Just in case. As a start. "Do you know _why_ you didn’t freak out yet this time, here? Maybe why you didn’t think of it before, even with the whole ‘mode’ thing?" Hey, don’t get him wrong, Stan was glad that she hadn’t lost it on the younger twins, but...

"...It’s less scary when I’m bigger than them," Miz admitted.

Stan blinked and thought about that. "...Yeah, okay," he could see how that might be a thing. So the dragon-lady felt better about the wrestling thing in her dragon form more than her little girl form. Made sense; she was large enough that she should be able to break free of anybody if they _did_ grab her. And holding her down? Probably was next to impossible like this; dragon-lady was built like a snake.

If she got injured, though… Stan looked over her tendrils critically. _That_ was probably the easiest thing to damage on her, and probably the most sensitive. He’d seen a lot of animals in his day -- and cryptids, too. He could see a weak spot when he saw one. Stan frowned.

"...Might be somethin’ to think about, next time somebody’s tryin’ to... get on your case there about something," Stan told her. "Just get bigger than them." Because if that helped her be ‘stronger’, literally physically stronger, and feel less scared, then maybe she’d be thinking more straight, and… y’know, have more of a chance at less of an ‘accident’.

Lee rubbed his arm. "Is what we were doing that dangerous?" Lee asked. (..while Sixer was absently petting Miz’s serpentine neck, not looking all that worried about his own safety, not realizing how dangerous it really was.)

Stan rubbed his face. "Well, yeah," Stan told them. "You weren’t thinkin’ things through. --You shouldn’t actually be trying to _fight_ each other," Stan told them, glowering at all three. "Look, how about you all tell me what your plan is for this whole, dragon hunting thing. What’s it all about?" He might as well tell them just how stupid their plan was. ...If they had an actual plan, he glowered at them a bit more, as they all looked at each other and didn’t start talking right away. Geez.

Hell, if they were tryin’ for ‘monster hunting fame’ and ‘possibly money’, like Miz had been chattering on about, the whole ‘catch a cryptid’ thing wasn’t a _bad_ idea, per se. But the whole ‘town heroes’ thing was pretty much out; Miz would have to go off destroying things for _that_ on to be on the menu. ‘Escaping the government’ was maybe a hit-or-miss, depending on how things went; Stan could see it working out either way, depending on how quickly the feds got wind of it actually being a thing.

But _whatever_ they did, they _definitely_ needed some refining before Stan would feel anything close to comfortable with letting them try and pull this off. And as for the kid… well, Stan would work with the three of ‘em _now_ , and get them to something that _maybe_ the kid would agree wasn’t going to be too dangerous for his little sister to take a starring role in.

Heck, if the younger Ford really wanted to go into studying monsters or aliens and shit when he grew up a little more… well, this would get Lee feeling more confident and interested in doing this stuff with him, maybe. Hell, if he’d been in a good position with the boat after high school and still on speaking terms with Ford, and his brother had asked him up to Gravity Falls to ‘study anomalies’ with him? He just might’ve turned him down flat; he wouldn’t have understood what his brother had actually _meant_. Because in weighing ‘boring science stuff’ against ‘actual treasure hunting and beach babes’? The middle of Oregon would _not_ have easily won out. Especially not after getting ditched by him for some college.

So, yeah. Seeing and talking about how this stuff all really went, the real versus the fake, would be good for them both. And for Lee in particular? He’d be able to get some experience with running a real con. Or parading around a ‘fake’ monster to earn money from gullible fools. Hell, it was almost cute. … _And_ it was gonna be a hell of a lot safer than what he’d heard about Dipper trying to pull off that time he’d left Mabel in charge of the Shack. Real monsters as exhibits, for the love of Paul Bunyan...

He was _definitely_ going to need to make sure Ford wasn’t around for this one, though. If Ford didn’t immediately start trying to shoot holes in the demon-dragon-lady for (what Stan was assuming was gonna be some pretty darn) realistic play-acting (given what they’d both already seen on the beach, and how good she was gonna be at this stuff after Stan got done giving her a few pointers...), well, his brother would probably have a stroke first.

\---

There was something off about Miz.

...Well, Stan already knew this, but seeing how much Miz seemed to enjoy acting like a… hell, call it what it was, acting like a large overgrown _pet_ , was kinda off-putting.

Stan looked on at Sixer, who had Miz’s large head in his lap, as he continued scratching around her antlers and tendrils, as the dragon _purred_ at him for it. ...Hell, Stan had only left them alone for a bit, to let them try at coming up at an actual first plan without him, while he went up on deck to check on Ford and the kid. And when he’d looked back down at them all, Stan had seen Sixer throwing a frisbee to Miz…

...and Miz had chased it down to bring back to him, wagging her tail. And then Stan had glanced over at the kid, wondering what the hell her brother must think of all this--

\--to see that the kid had looked _bemused_ by this, himself. Not worried, not thinking it was off in terms of behavior. He’d looked _amused_ , and been relaxed, almost like he’d thought that this might be… normal?

Stan had then turned to see his brother watching both the dragon-lady and the younger Ford warily, hand twitching near his gun in case the dragon tried to snap the teenager up as a quick meal. Lee was also watching them warily.

...Yeah, Stan could see how his brother might think that Miz wasn’t being all genuine in how she was acting towards the kids, like she might be ‘playing’ them instead of ‘playing _with_ ’ them all. --Because yeah, maybe some dads played ‘horsey’ with their two year olds, but they didn’t act like dogs or cats for their teenagers playing fetch.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Miz really _was_ acting a lot like their ma’s cat, in more ways than one. That tail-swishing wasn’t really a dog-wag, and she wasn’t acting all hyper like a dog with the fetch; if anything, it had looked like she’d been egging _Sixer_ on to do it, to throw the frisbee. And the whole purring ‘I own your lap’ thing was _definitely_ a cat thing. Stan remembered his Ma's cat would want to play ‘cards’, grabbing them up with her mouth and ‘handing’ them back straight to their laps after awhile, and she’d liked when they threw her dry cat food down the hall so she could chase and catch the pieces.

And when it came to the kid... okay, yeah, Stan had seen a few things with the kid that had seemed a little… well… --But he’d mostly shrugged it off before. The way the kid seemed to ‘own’ any chair he _deigned_ to sit in, how he ‘ _put up_ ’ with sharing Stan’s chair with him, in that kind of ‘yeah, I meant to do that, you moving my legs like that doesn’t mean anything’ way. How the kid fell asleep at the drop of a hat, almost. ...How the kid seemed to like sunning himself on one of the picnic tables or out on the roof, before falling asleep right there… and then pretending that he hadn’t fallen asleep, that he’d meant to just lie down there unmoving for several hours with his eyes closed, to have Mabel or Stan himself go off and wake him up.

The kid had never seemed animalistic about any of it, though. Mostly, he’d just seemed some kind of human. (...And maybe that shouldn’t been a warning sign. Kid wasn’t human; Stan knew that. So how did he pull it off?) --But the kid sure as hell didn’t go off _purring_ at anyone over anything. The kid didn’t _like_ getting touched; he _complained_ about it. Hell, the kid still had issues with Stan running his hands through his hair, even.

...at least when he was consciously paying attention to it. Stan had been able to calm him down a bit a time or two in the chair, when the kid had been too engrossed in that phone of his to really...

Stan frowned a little as he thought about all of this. Because so far, anything he’d seen with Miz had been mirrored, at least a little bit, with the kid. And maybe the kid didn’t purr, but the kid _did_ have his humming thing that he did sometimes.

If he thought of the kid more like a cat… he’d be some kinda spitting feral alley cat, maybe. Outdoors-y; never really spent a lot of time inside before. Maybe when they were really young once, but after getting tossed out and kicked that many times? And if you tried to adopt one of those nasty little buggers...

\--Which Ford had actually read him the riot act over, once already. (Weird that Ford had brought up the ‘cat’ thing himself before, though. Did that really mean something then, maybe?) ...The thing about feral cats though, was that it _wasn’t_ that they didn’t want you petting them; it was that they didn’t _trust_ you enough to let you do it.

And the kid had trust issues like nothing and nobody Stan had ever seen before. He _expected_ fights; he didn’t know what to _do_ with people just giving him stuff, not really. Because it had been so long since he’d had any kind of positive reinforcement… from...

(...Yeah, Stan wasn’t going there right now. He was still pretty damn mad about the whole ‘being addictive to his brother’ thing that he wasn’t too happy that his brother seemed bound and determined to try and shove under the rug, to just _let_ the kid get away with…)

Meanwhile, Miz was the house pet. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and way, way more friendly but... an abused one who’d gotten a new home, but still hadn’t really recovered from half the shit she’d gone through, way back when. She sought comfort, but still got scared of being confined and restrained -- and lashed out like a whirlwind of death and claws and really sharp teeth when she got set off the wrong way, apparently. Focused on food a lot because she’d gone hungry before, maybe; she’d said something about being starved as a child, right? (...Hell, she still starved off-and-on because of that ‘itching’ problem that sounded like that ‘suicidal cutting tearing open’ thing the kid had told him about, and Miz had talked about herself. If she hadn’t talked about that with the kid yet, he was bringing that list she was supposed to be writing up with the kid at dinner tonight.) She got really attached to the few people she trusted too, and... Stan didn’t finish that thought, it was starting to get weird in a really bad way.

(He _really_ needed to talk about all this with Ford in the basement, once they got back. He didn’t really get the whole demon thing, and he _needed_ to know if this whole thing was a part of that or not. He needed to know what to expect with them.)

The kid let out a huff next to him where he was lying on his side, watching his sister with the twins below, and settled a bit in place, as Stan tried running a hand through the kid's hair a little… differently... than he usually did. He watched the kid resituate himself a bit onto his belly, not really paying attention to Stan as he continued watching Miz, crossing his arms under his head and dropping his head down into the gap. Stan tried an even lighter stroking motion (kind of like what he’d done at the kid’s temples before, that he always saw the kid doing to himself, but on top of his head instead), and… the kid’s eyes drooped lower, and lower...

Ford looked over at him, watching him with a look Stan couldn’t quite read.

...He got the gist of the feeling that went with it, though, and yeah, he knew. He knew.

Back on the sand, Sixer had Miz curled around his lap, purring away like a little motor, and Sixer was looking well-pleased with himself.

"Well, I do think I have tamed the dragon," Sixer said, grinning at how easily he’d been able to subdue the large creature. If other cryptids were this easy, he’d be a very good monster hunter when he grew up. That… _was_ what the older version of him was, right?

Then Sixer frowned for a moment as he realized that, if that _was_ the case, then said dragon might have already been at least partially tamed by said older version of him.

Then again, if _that_ had been the case, that older version of him likely wouldn’t keep shouting and going for his gun every time the dragon seemed to do something questionable. Which likely meant that if either of them was the monster hunter and cryptid tamer of the bunch, then it would have to be...

Well. If Lee’s counterpart could do it, then _surely_ **he** could be even better at it, as well! This sort of thing involved careful planning, astute observation, and plenty of forethought, after all.

Crisis of ego and intelligence averted, Sixer scratched at Miz’s head (the dragon fully relaxed in his lap) and wondered what her antlers were made of. It looked like real gold. He reached out to caress the golden scales along her neck, which also looked like it might actually be gold. They didn’t seem to deform quite like pure gold did, but... he was sure that if his brother was less wary of the dragon, he’d be right here next to him trying to peel off one of these scales, just so he could check it over properly, and maybe run off with it. Actually...

Sixer carefully slid a nail in between the scales and wiggled, trying to see if the brick-like scales were removable.

Miz squeaked and thrashed, and the barrier flashed around Sixer as he yelped and scrambled back.

(Ford straightened and pulled his gun, nearly aiming it at the demon, before lowering it again, frowning, as his younger counterpart backed off even further and the demon _didn’t_ attempt to pursue. He reassessed what he was seeing...)

Miz shivered. "W-what the heck?!?!" She whined. She was scratching at the area where Sixer had touched. It felt so weird. She hissed as she wiggled around, flexing to get that uncomfortable feeling out. It didn’t quite… hurt, but it was...

(Ford frowned, lowering his gun even further. He’d seen that sort of behavior before, from animalistic cryptids; he knew what that implied.)

"Sorry, my fault. I should have asked first…" Sixer held up his hands.

Ford slowly relaxed, but he was no less upset by this whole situation as he holstered his gun. His younger counterpart should have known better than to do something like that to what was effectively a wild animal--

Ford blinked and shook himself mentally. No. He could _not_ let himself fall into this trap. _Looking_ like a cryptid did not make the demon a cryptid. It was… not necessarily an act, if the demon was bodily in a dragon-like form, but she was _intelligent_ , and...

Miz was pouting as she shook her long body out and slithered away from Sixer, looking quite annoyed.

Sixer frowned. "I said sorry!" he called after her. But Miz "Hmph!"ed and slithered off into the ocean, leaving him out on the beach and largely alone.

Lee laughed from where he was resting against the side of the boat, only half-working on the rest of his homework, because the other half of his attention had been on his twin and the demon-dragon while doing it. "You should know that you don’t touch a girl without asking, Sixer. You’re lucky you didn’t get slapped!" Or thwapped with that tail of hers.

Sixer sighed. "Why is she so upset? She didn’t mind when I was-- petting... her...?"

Sixer trailed off as Bill’s face slowly came into view, and he realized that the demon was floating upside-down from above right in front of him.

And he did _NOT_ look pleased.

"NO," said Bill, giving him a glare of doom.

Lee eyed the demon who looked about to do something a heck of a lot worse to his twin if he didn’t get the point, post-haste. "--Look, Sixer, if a girl says she don’t like it, then she don’t like it. Doesn’t matter what else she likes, or even if she liked it before. Don’t go trying to tell somebody otherwise, if they don’t like something. Right?" Lee said at the end, trying to catch the older demon’s attention.

"Stop means STOP. No means NO. _DON’T_ try to tell my sister WHAT TO THINK," the older demon said next, getting right up in Sixer’s face.

"Yessir," Sixer said next, not even blinking as the demon scrutinized his further with a glare.

"Kid," they heard the older Stan call out from above, "Do I need to come down there and discipline that one for ya?"

Both twins blinked.

"...No," Bill said finally, floating back an inch, then two (while still upside down). The twins breathed sighs of relief, as the demon’s frown changed a little. "Not yet," the demon intoned next, which had both twins freezing in place again. "Wait for Miz to come back; see what _she_ says and wants."

And with that, Bill floated upwards, rotating in place, slowly making his way back to the top of the cabin, where the two older twins were still.

Crisis averted (for the moment), Lee sat back and watched the dragon swim around in the ocean, trying to gauge her mood. And the next time he saw her surface, like a larger and more deadly dolphin, she leapt out from the water, a large fish clamped in her jaws…

"Don’t piss off a girl, 'specially not when the girl in question can swallow you whole in one bite," Lee told his twin under his breath.

"If she doesn't chew, I would get to see how deep her stomach is…" Sixer mumbled. Lee stared at him. The hell?

"--No. Don't you even dare," Lee deadpanned. Lee watch warily as Miz dragged her kill back to shore (a bit farther away from them than she’d really needed to) and started ripping at it, biting off large chunks. There was a wet sort of chewing sound and it seemed like Miz was more irritated than they thought as she savagely tore another strip of meat off the fish. The fish was completely limp; Lee hoped it was dead (it was), it was just a fish, but watching something being eviscerated like that made him feel... Lee winced. She really _was_ angry.

Sixer slowly approached her as she approached the end of her meal. (...And Stan made his way down off of the boat, knowing the younger version of his twin was probably going to just stick his foot in his mouth over this all over again.) "I really am sorry," Sixer said gently. "I won't do that without asking again." Miz's eye turned to glare at him before she went back to tearing the fish apart.

"Do you even know why I'm mad?" Miz asked as she chewed on a chunk of fish meat, and Stan approached Sixer’s side.

Sixer thought about it. "Because I touched you in a way you didn't like?"

"Because you betrayed my trust." Miz hissed. "That _hurt_. You decided to jam your finger in me without asking, even after I told you I don't like having foreign objects that aren’t food inside me."

Sixer winced. "I didn't put my finger in you--" (Lee made a choking sound), "--I was prying at your scales…" Sixer trailed off when Miz, Lee, and Stan gave him identical glares.

"So you were tryin' to tear off a piece of her skin?" Stan said simply. "Without askin' or warning her first. Wow. What a _gentleman_ ," Stan drawled out dryly, in pure old-man fashion, and Sixer flushed and looked down at his lap. (Even Ford was staring at his younger self like the kid was crazy. He hadn’t heard his younger self, but he’d certainly heard _Stan_. Had he _really_ not understood what he was doing wrong? Ford was _certain_ that he’d been more cognizant than that in high school! He _never_ would have-- he never...)

(He never would have done that. But this other-him _had_. And _Stan_ was acting like this all was _expected_ somehow--)

(Ford felt sick.)

Miz didn’t say anything, she just went back to taking out her irritation on the fish. ...And that was also a problem -- Stan didn't want her killing an animal every time she got angry. It would set a bad precedent, and get her into bad habits. Killing fish for food was one thing, but killing them because she was mad was something Stan needed to stop right _now_.

~~(...and it _also_ reminded Stan of his ma’s cat, with one of those much-abused squeaky toys, when _she’d_ gotten pissed off over not enough water in the water bowl. Damn.) ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

"Hey Miz? Can I talk to you for a sec? Without the others listening in?" Stan asked. Miz nodded as she lifted her tail and waved it around. A little shimmering appeared around them. Stan noticed by now that the shimmer was for their sake, so that they could see when she was doing her magic or weirdness or whatever it was she was doing. Stan sighed as he sat down in the sand with her.

"Kid, you okay?" Stan started out with, looking her over, because first things first. "I mean _really?_ " He didn’t want her just shrugging stuff off if she’d actually gotten hurt. By this point, he got that she didn’t like rocking the boat when she realized she was doing it, and she’d said herself more than once that she wasn’t used to caring all that much about getting hurt herself. Kid was still getting used to thinking of his sister; Stan didn’t doubt she was still getting used to the idea of the kid not liking her hurting, either.

(It was probably better that the kid was staying up on deck, on the cabin for this one, but Stan didn’t doubt that the kid just might not realize that she _might_ have been hurt and might need him right now.)

Miz’s tendrils flared out before slowly relaxing and she sighed. "Not hurt physically. Emotionally, I’m… better than I was before. Still unhappy." She clawed at the sand. "I trusted him to touch me. And then he just--"

Stan winced. "Yeah… Sixer’s an idiot," he said lamely, rubbing the back of his neck. "Glad you ain’t hurt physically, at least." Emotionally? He remembered the ‘massage’ thing she’d talked about (she’d trusted someone to touch her physically then, and they’d betrayed her then, too…). "Hate to say it, but you’re probably better off with _Ford_ tryin’ to pet you than Sixer. Pretty sure he learned better at some point, y’know, _later_ ," Stan told her. Then he told her, a little more seriously, "Lee’s definitely better, if you can stand the jokes," he told her with a slight smile. "Your brother’s the best bet of the bunch."

Miz nodded, still looking upset, biting off another piece of the fish, violently.

Stan waited a beat, then sighed and got on to the next thing. "Kid, I know you're mad. But you shouldn't kill things while you're mad, just because you’re mad," Stan told her bluntly.

Miz huffed. "You sound like dad," she almost whined.

Stan gave her a look. "Well, is he wrong?" he asked her. At the look he got from her… "Yeah, you know it's not good to do this." Which was… a thing. Her lizard dad actually talked to her, right. Which was different than the lizard here, that the kid kept complaining about to hell and back, mostly because it apparently never talked to anyone -- except maybe the kid just the one time, when the kid wanted it to talk to him _more_ , if what Stan was picking up from all the kids complaints was to be understood.

Miz sighed, slumping in place. "I'm just… really unhappy with him," she said. "And I kinda needed to tear something apart. I know it's not good, but I'm just so mad." Though it seemed like she wasn't all that mad anymore, Stan thought she looked more weary than anything else.

"Kid, I get that," Stan said to her. "You told him ‘stop’ by gettin’ away from him, you made it real clear that you didn’t like what he did without hurting him or anybody else, and when he acted like even more of a jerk, you turned around and walked away. That was good; you did the right thing there," he told her. "It’s just the last part that you’ve still gotta work on a little bit, right?"

Miz nodded sadly. "I know, I’m sorry. Should probably use a pillow or something…" She glanced down at her claws.

"Yeah," Stan agreed. "Like your brother, yeah?" Stan frowned a little. "Hey, talk to me, what's wrong?" Stan asked. Because it was clear that there was something else there that was bothering her.

Miz trailed a claw through the sand unhappily for a bit before she answered. "Why is he such a jerk? Why can't I find a Stanford who _isn't_ a jerk?" she muttered. "What if MY Stanford is a jerk?"

Stan blinked. "Uh, look, my brother ain't a jerk. Not really." Not anymore. "And that younger-him... well…" Stan frowned. "Look, he just don’t get people sometimes. Once he starts putting as much effort into people as he does books--"

"He's a jerk," Miz put out there bluntly. "Like, enough so that Carla doesn't feel _any_ guilt for what she did at all. And the other Stanfords I've seen are also jerks. Like Seb's brother was willing to kill Seb, his own triplet! And he even stated that Seb getting thrown out by their father was what he _deserved_! Like what the heck?! Who talks like that? Like they thought their teenage sibling being thrown out into the streets was what they _deserved_?!"

Stan felt like he’d just been run over with the Mystery Shack golf cart. Several times. He stared at Miz, because _that_ was a hell of a lot to unpack. Kill his _triplet?_ (Who was this Seb guy, again? Oh right, that guy Miz was with the last time she was here-- That didn’t help, really. Guy had looked nothing like them either time--) Then Stan winced at the ‘deserved’ thing, because that sounded almost like Ford’s ‘it’s better this way’ had on the beach, and-- "Wait, hang on, back up. _What_ was that about Carla?" What did his old ex breaking up with him have to do with Ford?

Miz stilled. "She's not a nice girl?" Miz said slowly. "I know you liked her and all but you're too _good_ for her. Now this isn't true in all dimensions, there are some Carlas who are actually really nice, yours just isn't one of them--"

"Don't try to distract me," Stan interrupted. "What. _The hell_. Does Carla _breaking up_ with me have to do with _Ford_." Because that had been all about that _other_ guy, not his brother. Hadn’t it?

...and Miz looked away. "Am I allowed to talk about this..." she seemed to mutter to herself. "I mean it's not like they'd ever figure it out on their own, dang bitch trashed it to destroy the evidence…" she ‘said’ quietly.

Stan was confused for a long moment, because what did trashing their relationship have to do with destroying evidence? Let alone _Ford?_ That didn’t make _any_ \--

...and then Stan took a step back, trying to figure out what _the hell_ she could _possibly_ be talking about…

And Stan finally put it together. And his jaw dropped.

"Are you tellin’ me that _Carla_ sabotaged Ford's project?!" Because… what the actual hell?!

Miz wiggled in the sand. "Uwu…" 

Stan felt almost dizzy at the thought. His ex had gotten revenge on him through… messing with his _brother?_ But that meant--

_"--they did this on purpose. To try and hurt him-- They wanted to hurt the BOTH of you.-- They already hurt Stan, hurting Ford is just them being EXTRA."_

Stan groaned into his hands. Because what even? How did… why did… how did that _even_ …

...If this was true, then it was still his fault, because Carla would have left his twin alone if he hadn’t...

...hadn’t _what?_ This **still** didn’t make one lick of sense! He’d never done _anything_ to Carla that should’ve had her… _plotting revenge_ to mess with his _twin_ like some two-bit villain in one of those old period dramas, one of those twirling mustache types. He’d never cheated on her, never stood her up, never done _anything_ to her, and then that hippie had come along and-- she’d made it clear that she was breaking up with him for that _other guy_ , that she thought _he_ was a loser by comparison. She’d been _real clear_ about all of that; Stan could still hear her words ringing in his ears. Her ‘revenge’ had been dumping him for not being good enough for her, apparently.

He glanced up at Miz. He hadn't wanted to know, and the kid had _said_ his sister was confused on things, and would just confuse things if he listened to her. Heck, the kid had wanted to see how Stan would fix this, himself, without any ‘help’ from his sister. And... Stan was already fixing it. He’d even told them all that finding the saboteur wasn't important.

Because it _wasn’t_ important. Because his brother’s science fair project--

No. No. He wasn’t getting into that right now.

"Miz," Stan said, after taking a deep breath. "What the hell am I missing, here?" He looked over at her. "Ford don’t got nothing to do with Carla. And Carla never had anything to do with Ford," he told her. And he looked at her.

Miz looked meek, lying in the sand with her eye staring up at him sadly.

And Stan’s jaw firmed. --Hell, no. He wasn’t falling for some dumb insinuations here. His brother had _**not**_ gone behind his back and tried to steal his girl. No way. --If the demon wanted to try and get away with lying to him, she could do it to his _face_ , damnit!

"-- _What don’t I know_ ," Stan intoned out at her. "What am I missing here." And Stan was pretty sure that the soundproofing Miz had put up had blocked out her brother too, because the kid hadn't wanted her to talk about this earlier, and he wasn’t getting all up on their case right now.

"...Carla thought you were _Ford_ , back when you first started dating…" Miz said quietly. Stan blinked, stunned, and more than a little caught off guard. Because yeah, when he’d punched that jerk that had been bothering her by the movie theater -- which had started the whole thing off, really -- he’d been wearing his nerd glasses for once and some of his brother's clothes, but… but… oh shit.

...oh shit.

Because Stan’s mind was racing about what might have happened, if Carla had thought she was dating _Ford_ , instead of **him**. And…

Stan paused.

And if Carla _had_ thought he’d been Ford, then... there were a couple things that she’d said when they were first dating that would make a _hell_ of a lot more sense. ...It’d explain _a lot_ of Carla’s odd behavior, back when they’d first started out.

But it wouldn’t explain all of it. She’d come by the house more than once, later on in, seen the two of them together, and _which_ twin had been the one to leave with her...

...She couldn’t have been confused for _that_ long, could she? Carla had been the smartest girl he’d known in school, next to...

Stan frowned.

"...it doesn’t happen in every timeline, like, in Seb’s dimension, since they were triplets, people were more careful about making sure which of them they were talking to, and Carla knew that the one she was dating was Stan, in fact they stayed together, and she had his kid, though with Stan and Ford trapped behind the portal, she had to raise the kid alone but Seb fixed the portal, and I helped, so they MUST be back by now and…" Miz rambled on, but Stan wasn’t really listening by that point, too busy thinking through his memories for all the times Carla had been a little… off, during their dates. How many times she’d called him ‘Pines’. When she’d first started calling him ‘Stan’ or ‘Stanley’. How, sometimes, he’d approached her at her locker at school, and she’d seemed confused for a second...

...But sometimes she’d called him ‘the _great_ Mr. Pines’ with a sparkle in her eye, and sometimes she’d just called him ‘Stanley’? She’d switched it up a _lot_ , back and forth. That wasn’t...

"Look, it was _her_ fault for mistaking the two of you, you did nothing wrong! She realized it after a while, but--" Miz told Stan vehemently. "--but Sixer’s not the best with people so when she went to him, thinking he was you and that they were together and I’m not sure _what_ he did to her, I don’t really get it but when I asked Sixer he said he didn’t know either…" Miz continued rambling.

Stan held up a hand. "Stop." And Miz went quiet, laying down low in the sand with a soft whine.

Okay. Okay. This was… _seriously_ messed up. This had happened _years_ ago, with him, and… he...

...How had he _not noticed_ this when it had been happening? Hell, had he _really_ been so head-over-heels for her that he’d just been completely _blind_ to--

...Okay, yeah. Yeah, he had been that blind. He’d been head over heels for her, and he’d known it. But if she’d just _said something_ \--

It still didn’t make sense to him. He wasn’t even sure if he _wanted_ to think about it.

...But he might have to, with the twins here. If she’d broken up with him, and that hadn’t been enough, and she’d ruined Sixer’s chances at a good college and gotten him kicked out of the house, and...

...she hadn’t done anything else to him or Ford, because Ford had gotten into a fancy college still and gotten to do what he wanted with all that grant money, and he’d been out on his ear and out of town. That had been enough, if Miz was right -- which Stan wasn’t all that sure about still.

But the twins _here_ weren’t completely broke and starving and separated. And if _separate_ and _separated_ was what she’d been going for--

...Sixer had been the one kicked outta the house this time. And all things being equal, if Stan hadn’t shown up that night and banged the table with Ford’s project on it… Ford would’ve been the one getting kicked out, too.

Carla _couldn’t_ have known that _Ford_ would’ve been the one kicked out, if she’d really gone and sabotaged his project somehow… _could_ she?

Stan shook his head. --Hell. _None_ of this mattered. Carla’s fault or not, Stan _still_ would have taken the fall for Ford if anyone had asked him. _Maybe_ Carla had sabotaged the project, and _maybe_ she hadn’t; _maybe_ it was still Stan’s fault a bit, and _maybe_ it wasn’t, but the one thing Stan **did** know was that--

"--We are **not** bringing this up with Ford. **Ever.** You hear me?" Stan told her. The very _last_ thing he needed right now was Ford feeling… hell, Stan didn’t even know _what_ Ford would do anymore. Ford wasn’t acting like his usual self, anymore, and after last night...

...Ford hadn’t really talked to Stan about anything that had happened with him and Bill, but he’d… seemed to not need to right then. He’d been quiet, but… he’d seemed... _kind of_ okay. _But Ford had actually let Stan **hug** him_. **Again.** \--And not some dumb one-armed stuff, neither. This had been some actual, y’know, just sit next to each other and breathe and _be there_ and...

This hadn’t been like in the kitchen when Ford had ~~broken down crying while he’d~~ been trying to warn him about Bill, or any single one of those times that Mabel had been in the middle of things and ‘prescribing’ them hugs for Stan to use as a ready excuse.

_This time_ , Ford hadn’t been feeling bad, or guilty, when he’d done it. When he’d hugged him. --When _Ford_ had hugged _him_. Not Stan trying to get away with it. _The other way around._

It wasn’t like they’d been sitting there, watching those old reel tapes of home movies, with Ford tryin’ to help Stan get his memories back. It wasn’t like Stan tossing an arm over his shoulder ‘in camaraderie’ right after they’d both finished punching a sea monster in the face, and Ford doing it back, not thinking anything of it, while Stan was basically sneaking it in there as a half-a-hug while his brother wasn’t really paying attention or any the wiser...

Ford had started shrugging him off in high school. He’d only ever let him hug him anymore when he was feeling absolutely awful. And this time, Ford had hugged _him_ , without _anybody_ pushing him. And at the time, Stan had thought… (Well. How stupid was he, huh.) So what that _really_ meant was…

\--Stan didn’t want to risk his brother feeling even _worse_ about what was going on. Not now. _Not ever._ ~~Stan wasn’t all that mad about it anymore, not really. Not anymore, not now, not after he’d had a chance to think about it all over again, _without_ the whole mess feeling like it wanted to split his heart and his chest wide open on him _again_...~~

Stan shook his head. "I mean it. Don’t tell Ford about this. _Ever._ Okay? --You hear me," he said, as he stared the dragon-lady down until she nodded, her large singular eye looking a little sheepish.

"I probably shouldn’t have told you, but I really wanted to get it off my chest…" she admitted quietly.

Yeah, Stan was getting the feeling that Miz liked to share information that she knew. … _Especially_ when it was gonna be a problem for the person who was hearing it. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his fingers, because he swore, these demons...

Miz twitched. "Isn’t it better to know the truth? Than to be ignorant, though?" she asked him quietly.

"Kid. That ain’t the problem," he told her harshly. "Did I _really_ need to know this right _now_ ," he said next, dropping his hand and giving her a long stare.

Miz’s tendrils drooped. "I never know what a good time is for telling people things." She sounded rather upset at herself for that.

...and the kid’s thing here and now was all about the difference between sharing and not-sharing info. So that made two of ‘em. Stan looked away. He really shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been askin’ after a lot of other stuff, too. Not like this demon seemed to differentiate between what she told to anybody about anything. Didn’t seem to understand boundaries...

"Yeah, well, I ain’t got the best track record for timing, either, I guess," Stan admitted, feeling lousy, as he thought of how Mabel and Dipper had nearly hit that button. ~~How Mabel had started _crying_ over--~~ They’d nearly shut down the portal, all because he couldn’t have talked to them two minutes sooner about stuff earlier on Family Day. Before those stupid agents had arrested him, ugh.

Stan shook himself, then looked down at Miz. "I feel better knowing, than not." Screw the kid’s ‘you’re not an actor’ shit -- not knowing shit had _always_ bit him worse than knowing it, almost every single time. And yeah, sometimes it sure made things a hell of a lot harder in the meantime. ~~(Like working with somebody who you knew was planning on killing you after the job was done, but still trying to go on smiling and laughing and cracking jokes just like you always did…)~~ But he’d _still_ rather know than not. ~~(Because the times when he hadn’t known that, and when, he’d needed to cut and run, had been--)~~ "--Just make sure you, y’know, filter that shit away from everybody else. Not like everyone can handle that stuff; we’ve talked about that," about Ford, and about the kids...

Miz nodded slowly. "Ok, I’m still figuring out what’s right or wrong to talk about…" ...most of the stuff seemed perfectly FINE to her. "So… learn what’s bad to talk about… and don’t kill things when I get mad?" Miz asked.

Stan nodded. "If you get mad, just try screaming into a pillow or something. Or clawing and biting at _that_ , if you _really_ need to. The kid does that."

Miz wiggled. "I’ll try. But I think Sixer needs a talk about boundaries too!"

Yeah… that was a problem. Stan sighed and nodded. At least his brother had outgrown this problem once he’d gotten older. He sure didn’t have that problem, now. But this teenaged Ford was still… "I’ll have a talk with him." Stan promised Miz. She nodded.

Well, now that this whole mess was mostly settled… kind of…

Stan gestured at the filter barrier again, and… "Okay, so, you all have your plan for tomorrow set up?" Stan turned around and asked the younger twins, even as Miz flicked her tail and the that shimmer in the air appeared around them again before dissipating, signaling the end of her ‘silence’ effect.

"Well, they've got nets here on the boat." Miz sat up. "With my own protections, I won't feel the weight of them, so I wouldn't freak out if I was trapped by one." She looked over at the kids. "And if you have any other ideas we're open to them."

Stan eyed her. "Well, I ain’t so sure about not feeling the weight of something being a good idea," like Lee or Sixer, if they tried to tackle her, because _that_ sounded like a recipe for somebody accidentally getting launched into the stratosphere, or otherwise flicked into the sea, "But if you’re askin’, I _do_ , in fact, have a few ideas for ya…"

He glanced around at the three of them with a smile.

"Why don’t you tell me what this plan of yours is, that you _actually_ came up with this time, first," Stan began, settling in for the long haul.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Well, next week's chapter will be super long to make up for it!
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Famous last words? ^_^;;


	17. Chapter 86: Why aren't you dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> In which Miz tries to make yummy food for her brother.  
> Also Ford gets some of his own introspection in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 97 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/45778078). It was first posted on Jun 17, 2019.

\-----

With the younger twins (and Miz) having their plan together, and Stan having spent enough time with Miz on her own part in things (‘acting lessons’ and stuff, and how and when to go about playing things up for the audience and the people they'd be expecting at the beach, among other things)...

...and with Ford and the kid being pretty quiet up on the ‘roof’ of the cabin and seemingly able to (maybe) keep themselves from trying to kill each other (...for now…) _and_ from ~~_re_~~ 'addicting' somebody or another to somebody else ~~(and it had damn well better stay that way, or the kid was getting punched in the face again, _big-time_ )~~...

...yeah, things were about as quiet as they were gonna get for awhile.

So Stan decided it was time for dinner.

(Besides, the two of ‘em were gonna be right above his head while he cooked. If either of them started a fight, Stan would hear them inside the cabin. The soundproofing on the thing wasn’t _that_ good, not by a longshot.)

"Hey, Miz," Stan said to the dragon-lady as she dusted herself off, in her human-dragon-child form once again. "You want to help me break in the new kitchen up there?" he said, tossing a thumb up deck-ways. Because he and Ford hadn’t just finished the _exterior_ of the cabin off that morning, after getting Bill and the teach _back_ to the school again; they’d gone off to the city dump after that, and Ford had managed to grab up enough parts of what he’d needed to make up some fancy-pants ‘not needing a lot of electricity to run this thing’ stove stuff.

Miz lit up. "Yes! I would LOVE to!"

Stan smiled. He climbed up the rope ladder to the deck, as Miz floated her way up there herself, and he kind of wondered what she’d think of the place. It wasn’t some fancy kitchen thing; not by a longshot, but… Stan had made sure that there were two propane burners on the stove, to go with the four electric ones that were working off of an old car battery… (which Ford had apparently hooked up to the solar panels he had moved off of the washer and dryer -- which had gone inside the cabin, with a longer water-hookup hose that ran outside for an eventual dunking in the seawater below -- and strung those panels up to hang off of the sides of the cabin’s roof instead, in a sort of clothesline-between-the-roof-and-the-main-mast arrangement).

Miz pattered around on deck, looking over all of the most-apparent changes. (Ford hadn’t just been idle on the cabin’s roof; he’d been checking and rechecking some of the electrical connections up there, and water- and weather-proofing quite a bit of, well, _everything_. --Including the roof itself, which had still needed a little work.)

Stan walked over to the door to the cabin, and opened it up for Miz.

"Same arrangement as the ‘Two," Stan told her, as he followed her inside. Ford had ‘felt no need to mess with perfection’ on the subject of the best cabin layout for a boat meant for sailing, and Stan had (more or less) shrugged and gone along with it. "Kitchen-galley and dining-work area first-thing," he pointed out. "With the bunks and main living quarters in the back," he gestured next.

"Okay." Miz nodded, looking around. She glanced up at Stan, "I got some peppers. All different kinds, and the spices too." Both scanned and saved into a room of her Mindscape that she’d built just for food-related stuff. "Also, I learned that Paprika is actually a pepper. I never noticed that. Probably because I never scanned a pepper, but then I did and it had the same make up as paprika." Miz told him, "I never used paprika but it was a pretty color so I scanned it. But now I know something new!"

"Good," said Stan. He considered teasing her about liking paprika-peppers on the spot, but then decided to save that one for later. (Didn’t seem the right time for it; he wanted her feeling good about doing things for her brother and friends for awhile, not embarrassed ‘cause then she’d not like the feeling and end up learning the wrong thing, there. Better to let it settle in for now as a ‘good thing’ for awhile.)

"You get a look at anything new of the ‘same old’, too?" he asked her. Miz nodded. Good. More human food she could use for stuff back home in her own ‘set, then. (Maybe keep her from feeling too desperate about more human stuff later...) "And all the seeds you wanted?" he asked next, just to be sure. He’d forgotten to ask about the not-fresh stuff the first time. (Hey, he was gettin’ old. He was allowed.) Speaking of... "You need any cookbooks too? For stuff you maybe, y’know, ‘know’, but maybe don’t _know?_ " he asked her next.

Miz nodded then shook her head. "Seeds yes, I’ve got a garden back home. Cook books no, I--" she looked embarrassed. "I don’t like following instructions and measuring stuff…" She looked even more embarrassed. "...probably why I’m terrible at baking…"

Yeah, okay. "How did you usually learn recipes and stuff, then?" Stan asked her, as he moved forward into the galley area. He wasn't exactly the best baker, but he wasn't the worst either. He usually just followed the recipes, though; he didn't know too many other ways to do it.

"I just… toss stuff into a wok and go for it." Miz replied. "Pretty much self-taught?"

Huh. "You ever try watchin’ those online videos instead? --The ones that actually take as long as it takes?" Stan asked her.

Miz nodded. "I do, but I always get bored partway through and improvise. And as long as it’s not baking, the food still turns out fine and yummy, so… eh?" She shrugged.

...Yeahhhh, Stan could see that happening. And he knew first-hand _exactly_ what kinds of stuff a bored person (*cough* Mabel *cough*) could create 'artistically' when she decided to 'improvise' in the kitchen. (Shack rule was that anything she made, she ate. No foisting it off on anybody else unless Stan cleared it first. ~~...which he sometimes did, y'know, to people he didn't like. --Mailed a couple things out on one occasion or another too, even. Heh.~~ Luckily, his niece had had a stomach of titanium, or somethin'.) But if Miz actually wanted good human-food baking, and maybe didn't care so much how she got it...

Stan thought about that one for a moment. "Any of your friends back home like baking stuff?"

Miz looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Well, he’s embarrassed by it, but yeah."

"Don’t have to tell me who, kid," Stan told her. "Was just askin’ because I thought, hey, maybe if that _other_ guy likes baking, then maybe give _him_ a copy of those cookbooks with all those boring recipes and instructions to follow, instead." He winked at her.

"Ah okay. Well, he likes baking, but he never does it, since he’s afraid someone will find out about it. He’s got a complex about it, since he’s supposed to be a rough and tough demon-imp so yeah…" Miz tilted her head. "I should give him his own private kitchen…"

Private kitchen, nothing. "Yeah, maybe no. That’d just get the guy caught out that much quicker, if he don’t already have one wherever this guy's living, right?" Stan gave her an odd look. "You can’t just toss up one of those perception filters for him on some _other_ oven someplace, hand him a bunch of those cookbooks, and let him have at it? Then just say that you got the stuff from some other store nearby instead of him, later, when a bunch of hot baked goods just, heh, ‘magically’ show up?" he asked her.

Miz grinned. "I think he’d love that." She glanced around again. "Actually, I cheat with magic for all my baking, since… ah… I’m bad at it. Not like it turns out toxic, it tastes fine, it just doesn’t look very appealing."

"Hey, not like we’ve got an oven in here," Stan pointed out. "Too dangerous, on a wooden boat like this. --Even _with_ magic," he added, giving her a look.

Miz nodded. "Oven explosions are super dangerous. That’s how I lost one of my jobs back as a human, the bakery I worked at exploded…" she said plainly, as if she were talking about the weather.

Stan winced. "Everybody come out in one piece?" he asked. "Or…" He'd seen first-hand what some explosions looked like after the fact. Up close and personal. ~~There was a reason he only ever went with smokebombs for junk, and was always _real_ careful with the kind of ones he used…~~

"Yeah, there was a large rolling cart with trays between the oven and the head baker so it blocked the blast. He was a little singed but otherwise fine. It happened super early in the morning before my shift started. Still sucked though." Miz pouted. "I liked my job there. Got free donuts."

Stan nodded, as he moved to the side and skipped the rest of the tour for now, jumping straight to where things actually were in the galley area. (Hey, they had hungry jerks and idiots and demons out there who hadn’t eaten anything yet. Priorities. ...He was just glad that he’d found another thing to have the dragon-lady thinking about, that had her thinking about other people, and not just herself. Getting her past only thinking about what _she_ wanted, remembering that there were other people who might want different things than her -- or might say something different to her if they’d been there -- and stopping to think about _that?_ Was all good in Stan’s book. What with the ‘thinking about what her sister would say’ thing, and the thing that had just happened out on the beach, and this ‘donut bakery’ thing now? Stan figured half her problem with people was that she just didn’t think all that much about them most of the time. Not really. Just stuff that was happening with herself, and nobody else, most of the time. Just, none of that other kind of stuff. At all.)

(So Stan figured that anything he could set up to have her doing more of that kind of thinking was a win, in his book. Because the more practice she got at thinking about how what she did or didn’t do might impact other people later, and what other people might think about what she was doing right then in the moment -- and what she could be doing different, for _them_ specifically... would get her actually stopping and thinking for a start. And maybe lay the groundwork for makin’ it a _lot_ easier to get her thinking about ‘anybody else’ _later_...)

"Stove’s here," Stan pointed out to Miz next in the galley area, along with... "Propane’s underneath for those two," 'cause he knew some folks got picky about gas versus electric with their cooking. "Think you saw what Ford did with the solar panels out there for the electric range." He gestured at the other four. Stan really hadn’t been able to talk Ford down from that one. They’d only needed one on the Stan O’War II, but… the twins would have less money in the bank than they had themselves, for a pretty good while; propane _cost_ ~~and it could be a little dangerous to wrestle the larger tanks of the stuff around if you weren't careful~~ , but the electricity would be ‘free’ from the solar panels, as long as there was sun and all the lines and electronics held out.

"Got the cold-and-colder-boxes from the kid, right there," Stan said with a smile next, pointing out the ‘freezer’ and ‘fridge’ under the counter that Bill had magicked up for them a few days ago, using a few of those box-crates from below deck. "Even got some stuff in ‘em. And the sink's over there," next to the washer that Miz had set up with the whole clean water filter thing, with lines running to and from the thing…

...and also to a backup water-holding tank, just below them on the next deck down, in the hold below. Ford had (somewhat grumpily) announced that the filtration system was good enough that they could simply send the same water through it over and over again almost indefinitely. --The twins would just need to empty out some of the dirt-gunk from the washer's filter-part once in awhile, and add some seawater to the tank every so often, because water evaporating _was_ a thing that happened a bit whenever you did stuff with it, no matter what it was you were doing. (The dryer wasn't dumping any of that washing-water it was drying out of the wet clothes back into the system, for a start…)

Miz tilted her head. "So what’re we making for dinner? Or am I just cooking for brother and me while you cook for the humans?"

"You should probably handle the demon-food, while I handle the human-food," Stan told her. "Doesn’t mean we can’t have some overlap, though. Twins could use some salad, and I know _you_ eat meat just fine," Stan pointed out. "Lemonade to drink, maybe; no sugar for the kid, though," Stan added. Usually, he just handed the kid the lemon juice; he poured a dollop straight into whatever he was drinking -- usually just boiled tap water of some temperature or another. "Gonna have to think about the main meal; I’ll handle that."

"Okay, lemonade for the humans, lemon water for brother. Got it." Miz was pulling stuff out of the cold boxes -- handing it up to Stan, who was putting it on the table in the middle of the galley for easy access. "Salad because the teenagers don’t eat enough veggies," she said aloud to herself, as if reminding herself of what they were doing. "Hm, kale works great when mixed with nuts… have to chop it super small…" she mused.

Stan nodded as he got his own ingredients together. He’d gone grocery shopping with Ford the day before; they still had some steaks left over in the ‘colder box’ -- beef, not just fish from one of Miz’s earlier hauls. There wasn’t enough steak left for everybody as the meal itself, but… hey, he could grill and chop those up for tacos or something, couldn’t he? He had the taco shells for it… and grated cheese… and bunch of other stuff, like what Miz had pulled out for the salad...

"Hey," said Stan, as he pulled one of the pans off of the wall and placed it on the nearest propane gas burner. "I’m thinkin’ tacos tonight. --Save me some of that tomato and lettuce for fixings, will ya?"

Miz nodded and put aside the requested items before she went back to her own work. She started singing at some point as she worked. " _The[ship](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYIioYDI2Iw) it swayed, heave ho, heave ho~ on the dark and stormy blue~ And I held tight to the captain’s might~ as he pulled up his trews~ You haven’t slept, heave ho, he said, in many suns and moons~_"

Stan glanced over at the odd song, but mentally shrugged to himself after a moment. Mabel liked to sing to herself while working too. (...Heck, so did he.)

Miz was carefully chopping the vegetables into super small pieces on one of the wooden cutting boards Stan had gotten for cheap. (He’d cleaned up and sold the rest for a pretty decent profit yesterday.) " _Oh I will sleep when we reach shore~ and pray we get there soon~_ " She scooped the veggies off into a large bowl and started chopping the next one. " _He said hush love, here’s your gown~ there’s the bed, lantern’s down~ But I don’t want to go to sleep, in all my dreams I drown~_ " the cabin was filled with the sound of Miz’s soft voice and the chopping board.

Stan blinked at the lyrics. What song even was this? Miz had some pretty weird taste in music. ...Did she even know what the lyrics she’d been singing actually implied?

" _The captain howled heave ho, heave ho, and tied me up with sheets~ a storm is brewing in the south~ it’s time to go to sleep~ His berth it rocks heave ho, heave ho, the ocean gnashed and moaned~ like Jonah we’ll be swallowed whole and spat back teeth and bones~_ " Stan shook his head and just focused on his own work; yeah, Miz probably wasn’t getting all the subtext there, since she wasn’t blushing or nothin’. " _He said~ hush love, here’s your gown, there’s the bed, lantern’s down~ but I don’t want to go to sleep, in all my dreams I drown~_ "

Stan was glad Ford wasn’t down in here with them. (Ford might be able to hear the melody some out there on the roof above them, but not the lyrics -- the portholes and door were closed.) Ford wouldn’t get the subtext, either. He’d probably try and overthink why Miz was singing this, try and pick out some (other) hidden meaning, even though Miz wasn’t like the kid like that. He’d gotten all worked up over the one she’d sung out on that rooftop a couple days ago. ...And Ford had had that crazy dream just that morning, that had had him grabbing onto the demon-kid because he thought he couldn’t breathe(?!). ...Well, the _first_ morning that morning, anyway.

Probably a good thing that Ford couldn’t hear them, then. Stan had to admit it wasn’t a bad tune; it was just the lyrics that were a little racy. " _Captain~ captain~ I will do your chores~ I will warm your cot at night~ and mop your cabin floors~_ " Miz sang, scooping up everything into the salad bowl and getting out some walnuts. " _Scold me~ hold me~ I’ll be yours to keep~ the only thing I beg of you~ don’t make me go to sleep~_ "

Finally, Stan spoke up. "I thought you liked sleeping?" and Miz giggled at that and told him, "Yeah, but it’s a nice song regardless." She broke the nuts into pieces as well.

Stan nodded. "So what’s this song from?" He wasn’t gonna ask what it was about, seemed pretty obvious to him.

Miz hummed a little before responding, "The Devil’s Carnival. It’s a pretty messed up musical, but that’s what made it so cool."

...so she _did_ realize that song was kinda out there? ...Huh. Kinda made him wonder if she really _did_ know what it was about, then. She got flustered about some stuff, but... not other stuff, now that he thought about it. (Well, not like he was gonna ask her right now.) Stan shrugged mentally, and asked her instead, "There a reason you like ‘messed up’ songs?"

"They’re more interesting," was the simple reply. Stan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Well it’s not _just_ about being disturbing or what not; it sounds cool, and it’s not like all the songs I like are dark and twisted." Miz rolled her eyes. "Like, I really enjoy Uptown Funk just ‘cause it’s so much fun to dance along to."

"Ah huh? So, what, only the ‘dark and twisted’ songs have music that sounds more interesting?" Stan put out there.

Miz nodded. "They’re songs I learned back when I was human, so it’s not like this is some kinda demon thing, not that I can tell." She pouted. "Ford overthinks my music choices too much."

_That_ had Stan letting out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, he does." Stan was pretty sure that his brother would find _any_ song he otherwise liked ‘objectionable’, if he heard either of the demon-kids sing it at some point. Pretty much _any_ song could be sung ‘dark’ if you wanted to.

Stan set to work tossing the leftover steak in a pan and starting to cook it up on the stove. The good stuff; too bad they didn’t have a grill. He could hear Miz humming beside him. "So, any particular reason you went with singin’ this song?" he asked.

Miz nodded. "We’re on a boat, so I got reminded of this song."

...Well, guess that made sense. "Any other boat songs you know?" Stan put out there.

Miz beamed. And then she [proceeded to sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ib9tdGBqtnM)...

Stan chuckled. "Heh, you like sea shantys too?" Stan asked as he spiced up the meat as he cooked it. It was clearly one of those, even if Stan couldn’t understand the language.

Miz grinned. "I think they’re fun! I don’t know too many yet, but I’m open to learning more!" Her tone of voice making it clear she was hoping Stan could teach her a few. She was looking up at him again, that same odd expression of eagerness that made Stan feel a little twisted up inside. Like she was… _looking up_ to him as some sort of...

~~...hero…~~

Stan shook his head, clearing away the feeling. ~~Not like she could really mean it. Not like she knew him, anyway. If she did--~~ "Heh, sure, I know plenty of ‘em. If you wanna learn."

Miz practically vibrated in place in excitement. "I doooooo!" she squealed.

Stan chuckled. "Yeah, okay," he said, indulging her. "I know a few fun ones…"

\---

Ford frowned at the loud awful singing coming from the cabin, then let out a tired sigh. He couldn’t hear the lyrics (thank the Axolotl!), but he’d recognize Stanley’s gravelly tones anywhere. (And from what he’d loosely term the ‘melody’ line, he had half an idea _which_ song it was he was singing, and it was _highly_ inappropriate. As usual.) It was _very_ embarrassing.

Ford tried to comfort himself with the fact that at least no-one should be able to hear his brother except the kids and the demons -- at least, he _hoped_ so. That perception filter of Bill’s _was_ still up, wasn’t it? It was _supposed_ to be both modifying the light that could be seen _and_ blocking the sound from the boat from carrying, right?

"The heck is that sound?" Lee said as he slowly climbed the rope ladder back to the deck (homework done finally, for better or for worse) and glanced around. "Is the old me _dying?_ " Lee asked next.

Ford sighed again, tiredly. "No. He's… singing." Bad enough he’d had to deal with Stanley's dulcet tones while they were out at sea together, but must his twin insist on being so very obnoxious _here_ , too? (He could at least have picked out a better song--)

Then Ford heard a much higher-pitched and less abrasive voice join his brother in the song. He blinked and jumped straight down off of the roof of the cabin, down onto the deck, strode forward, and yanked open the door to the cabin. "What are you--"

"" _\--[Blow HIGH, blow LOW](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=149&v=0Zs-Zr95aw8), and so sailed we! Look ahead, look astern, look aweather and alee~_"" Ford saw and heard his brother singing together with the smaller demon. "" _Look along down the coast of the High Barbareeeee~_ "" and-- dear lord, Stan was even dancing along to it. Ford groaned. (Because, oh Axolotl, it had gotten _even worse_. Bad enough when he’d pulled this sort of thing in the Shack with Soos around; at least it hadn’t been a full-throated _yell_ practically at the top of Stan's lungs back then, barely more than a hum.) "" _There’s nought upon the stern, there’s nought upon the lee, blow HIGH, blow LOW, and so sailed we~_ ""

"Stan, what are you doing?" Ford rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.

"He’s singing," Bill’s voice said from above, and Ford twisted his head and then his body in place back towards the doorway, to glare up at the demon who had poked his head down into the doorway from his current vantage point (still) on the roof of the cabin.

Stan let out a laugh and just kept on singing, ignoring Ford for the most part. --Well, except for the wide grin he got as he tried to sing even louder, to try and draw his brother in. He was having _fun_ , is what he was doing, and his brother _knew_ it! (And if Ford got exasperated enough, Stan knew he might even be able to rib him enough to join in, begrudgingly as he always was at first.)

" _Oh ‘taw broadside to broadside a long time we lay~_ " Stan sang. Miz piped in with the accompaniment, " _Blow HIGH, blow LOW and so sailed we!_ " Stan danced around the galley area of the small cabin, grooving a bit, kicking and stomping his feet slightly to the merry song, as he waved his spatula around in accompaniment. " _Until the prince of luther shot the pirate’s masts away~_ " he and Miz joined together for the next lines, "" _Cruising down along the coast of the high Barbaree~_ ""

"Are you quite done?" Ford sighed tiredly. Why was Stanley _always_ like this?

" _Blow HIGH, blow LOW and so- sailed… mm_" Ford heard echoed at his back, and he turned to see Lee blush a little and then trail off at the disbelieving look that Ford gave him.

"Aw, c’mon Ford," Stan said, coming to a slow stop in his grooving at the water Ford was basically throwing on the younger him there, with all of his glaring. "Ain’t nothing wrong with--"

"’There isn’t _anything_ wrong with’--" Ford corrected his brother, glancing over his shoulder at him. "Grammar, Stanley." He ignored the look he got from his brother for that one. ... _And_ the ‘HA!’ from Bill. (They both knew what he meant, and it _wasn’t_ an inappropriate time for it!)

"Don’t crush his musical spirit!" Miz put out there. "That’s a BAD thing to do to someone!"

"I don’t got-- uh, ‘have’ a…" Lee sort of hunched his shoulders slightly, as he put his hands in his pockets and shrugged at them all, looking away. "Can I, uh, help with the food?" Lee asked next, trying for the more direct route, and brightening a little as he realized that maybe this was something that the old him might actually let him do, to help out some, for once!

Miz looked down and handed Lee the bowl with the chopped lettuce and tomatoes. "Well, I dunno if you put the veggies into a taco first or last, but you can help set up said tacos?"

Stan took in the scene at a glance, and shrugged to himself. Usually, it was every man for himself, adding as much as they wanted of whatever, but...

"Yeah, kid," Stan said, as he finished cooking up the first of the steaks, speared it, and moved it over onto a plate. "C’mere and carve this up into pieces, then shove that stuff into the shells first, yeah? --Miz, the meat goes in first, yeah?" Stan told her next. Miz nodded, accepting this little nugget of wisdom. She didn’t really have much experience with Tacos and didn’t know how they worked aside from a basic knowledge of ‘stick meat, veggies and cheese into it’.

"Stan, you shouldn’t have her helping to cook," Ford said warningly, to which Stan replied breezily, "Ford, just have the kid check it over however he’s doin’ it for his own stuff, and tell you what’s what. Since you still know when he’s lying." Seriously, why his brother didn’t take more advantage of that… Stan didn’t know. Hell, _the kids_ had picked up on that pretty damn quick, and they couldn’t even always tell when the kid was lying. ...Yet. (...Not that the kid had _tried_ lyin’ to them much, which was… y’know, a whole ‘nother thing.)

Miz pouted. "I just chopped veggies and nuts. How the heck am I supposed to mess _that_ up?" Just because she didn’t know how ‘real, proper’ cooking worked didn’t mean that her billions of years self teaching herself through experiments and failures meant nothing!

"--That _isn’t_ the problem, _and you know it!_ " Ford snapped out at her abruptly, which had Lee flinching, and Bill...

...pushing himself forward, and then pulling himself down, in a half-somersault, to land feet-first in the doorway, and then turn to lean up against the side of the doorway instead. (...at Lee’s back, which the younger twin wasn’t so sure how to feel about...)

"...I cook for my friends and children all the time… and they’re fine…" Miz pulled at the bottom of her dress.

"Demons could be different in her dimension," Bill put out there, crossing his arms casually as he leaned up against the doorway. "I haven’t seen her try anything yet. Overt or otherwise."

Stan frowned as he glanced between Ford and the kid. "...There something here I need to worry about?" Stan asked, because--

"Yes!" said Ford, at the same time as he got a "Maybe," from the kid.

\--okay, _great_. So what was he missing _this_ time?

Lee and Sixer (who’d also come up to the deck at some point, and was standing just outside the open doorway now) looked back and forth between the older thems and the demons.

...Was there something wrong? Lee didn’t realize he’d said that out loud until Stan looked over as him and sighed. "My brother gets a little paranoid--"

"-- _It isn’t paranoia_ ; it’s a justifiable concern!" Ford insisted, feeling irritated at his brother not taking him seriously. -- _Again!!_ "You can’t trust demons. The worst of the worst of them will _pretend_ to be nice, and then bite your head off _for fun!_ \--Quite **literally!** " he stressed to them all.

"I _don’t_ eat heads. They’re gross!" Miz protested. That didn’t really make Ford any less angry or fearful. He’d _seen_ what happened when--!

Bill straightened away from the doorframe, then walked past that Stanford and over to his sister, to place a hand on her head. "I told you, he’s not going to eat it, sis. I won’t eat food from animals here; he won’t eat food from demons _anywhere_. Understand?" They both had reasons for it.

Miz sighed. "Yeah, but I… I don’t want to hurt anyone here…" She looked down at the prepared ingredients. "Well, I only made the salad, so you can just avoid that if you hate me so much…"

"S’ why I told you to work on that," Stan said good-naturedly, with a lopsided smile. "Ford don’t hate you," Stan corrected her. If he did, he’d have been trying to shoot her straight-out; minimum. "He _does_ hate his leafy-greens, though," Stan told her with a smile. "He’ll do the tacos; no salad."

Miz puffed out her cheeks. "I don’t like veggies but I still eat them."

"Oh, he’ll do ‘veggies’," Stan told her next (while ignoring his brother’s warning _"Stan…"_ ). "He just don’t like stuff like lettuce. Says it’s too much like eating _leaves_." (Ford shot him a glare.) "But then he likes puttin’ _basil_ on stuff." Stan’s grin got a little wider. (The glare got worse.)

Miz thought about it. "Well, lettuce is kinda boring on it’s own. But I wouldn’t say it’s like a leaf. Leaves are more… fiber-y." She sat back down on the ground to finish up the salads (having moved some of her stuff to the floor so she could spread them out in separate bowls, expecting the table to run out of space as Stan and Lee worked on the tacos). She looked through what she had, shaking a few herbs and spices onto them. --No vinegar, no salt or sugars, or her brother wouldn’t eat it. So she had to flavor it some other way.

"Spices and herbs are different!" Ford complained to his brother, as Miz continued on with what she was doing to the salad, and… From his change in tone of voice, Lee figured that it was maybe safe enough for him to sidle his way over in-between the table and all the stuff along the wall now -- boy, was it cramped in here! Belowdecks was way easier! -- and grab a knife and fork to start cutting up the cooked meat like that old-man him had wanted him to...

(Meanwhile, Sixer scooted along the opposite wall, headed for the back bunks, trying to stay out of the way of everything and everyone in general. He had a few more things he wanted to write down…)

"Oh, _sure_ ," said Stan. "Says the guy who eats planets _on accident_."

"--That was _one time!_ " Ford snapped back, looking more than a little frustrated (while trying terribly hard not to feel one bit embarrassed, because if he did--).

"Yeah?" Stan said almost challengingly. "How much grass did you accidentally eat on that thing, anyway?"

Miz blinked. "You ate a planet too?" She made a face. "It’s so unpleasant!"

Ford twisted his head over to stare at her, a little horrified.

"Oh, little sis," Bill grinned -- because _that_ little gem had just gotten opened up for storytelling, what with both Stanley _and that Stanford_ talking about it! " _Fordsie_ here stumbled his way into a little Cthulhu-banquet this one time," Bill told her, sitting down next to her on the floor and patting her on the head, with something more of a stroking movement this time. "I _told_ him to stick to the side-bars at that little spiral-arm-wide shindig, and _what_ does he go and do?"

" _Bill._ " The dream demon was grinning widely, and Ford wanted to _shoot_ him _so badly_ right now. His fists were clenched at his sides...

"...let me guess, he did the opposite of what you said and went straight to the main tables." Miz could see where this was going. Really, did Ford do that out of sheer pettiness or did he really think Bill was--

" _\--He did the opposite!_ " Bill enthused out, spreading his hands out to the sides, then crossing his arms and leaning back against the floor-level shelves that sat below the ’table’-area behind him. "Went _straight_ for the ‘sandwich’ buffet instead," Bill told her with a grin. "Got himself a nice ‘sandy’ one, too!"

Then Bill leaned in slightly and told her, in a not-quite-quiet-enough to be conspiratorial tone, "Luckily, all the people on THAT one were already long dead, or WOO BOY, his _’morals’_ sure would have taken a HIT! --THREE-HUNDRED-MILLION YEARS since the last sapient life kicked the bucket on that one, AND COUNTING!" Bill told her. "Hit their ‘atomic age’ with a BANG!" he added, then said almost philosophically, "Sixer was taking iodine pills for a week afterwards. -- _Really_ , Sixer," Bill ended on an almost chiding tone. "That stuff does next to NOTHING for you, when it’s the HEAVY-METAL POISONING you _really_ should have been _WORRIED_ about, instead! All that iron..." Bill trailed off, shaking his head, before breaking out into a wide grin again.

Lee was staring at Ford, a little horrified, but also a little grossed out. Wait, and Miz said _she’d_ eaten a planet, _too?_

"And you know what the worst part is?" Bill added, raising his voice and talking to all and sundry now. "-- _He didn’t even enjoy it!_ " Bill told them all in scandalous tone. "Aged like a fine wine, with nary a bone or even a _fossil_ remaining, and he not only GULPS IT DOWN in three bites, he practically LOSES it not three minutes later, when somebody ASKS him about how it tasted, and his _translator_ \--"

Ford didn’t even _try_ to get Bill’s attention with words that time, to try and stop him (always a futile endeavor) or otherwise interrupt him (moderately more likely, for short periods of time, with consequences always attached). He just stomped his way over, dropped down into a crouch next to the dream demon, and slapped one of his hands over Bill’s mouth, fuming. (...while Stan looked back over his shoulder at him from where he was in front of the stove and blandly wondered why his brother hadn’t just _said_ ‘stop’ to the kid, instead.)

Miz sighed in relief at learning the planet was already dead. "Well, I didn’t really enjoy eating a planet either, was a stressful experience for me actually, though at least Ford didn’t kill anyone from eating the planet, so that’s good." Not like she’d been forced to do. Heck, that had been the POINT. "And he didn’t explode or anything." ...like she’d done. Huh. Well, she didn’t really want to think about this anymore…

...but then she paused as she remembered something. "Actually… now that I think about it, I found some planets once, which didn’t have life in them, and they sorta broke apart into slices when I messed with them… and then I put them back together like a sandwich…"

"With or without trimming off the crust?" was Sixer’s contribution to the discussion from the bunk area, and Ford turned his head to stare over at him in pure disbelief. (Because the brazenness and utter lack of empathy that must exist in the _asker_ of said question -- given the subject matter of the question posed, and the tone and method in which it was asked -- was simply… _obscene_.)

"I left the crust, was kinda curious what would happen. Funny story, the elements, substances and minerals from the different layers mixed together and life formed on the planet. It was really cool to watch them grow and evolve!" Miz grinned. "I kept that planet protected for a few billion years, making sure other species didn’t try to invade it, but then the inhabitants wanted to explore space so I left them alone to do that… and…" Miz’s smile faded. "They got attacked and enslaved by another species that sent in ships to mine the planet for all its resources…"

"You didn’t smite the attackers for doing that?" Bill asked curiously, after having reached up and pulled Ford’s hand down and away from his mouth in order to speak. "Or give your own a few pointers on ‘self-defense’?" (And at the last, Ford looked down at Bill, his eyes going a little wide...)

Miz sighed, looking melancholy. "I wanted to. I asked them if they wanted me to help. But they said that they could do it themselves, that they didn’t _need_ me anymore…"

"Oh. _Well_ ," said Bill, suddenly sounding a lot cooler. " _THAT_ was their problem then." They’d _decided_ they didn’t want to be _HERS_ anymore? --Then they’d gotten what they DESERVED. ...The idiots. CLEARLY, they HADN’T ‘deserved’ HER!

"--That _doesn’t_ mean they deserved to _die_ , Bill!" Ford ground out at the demon angrily, pulling his hand away from him, because he _knew_ what sorts of events Bill was thinking of and about just then. There were stories throughout the multiverse, about what would happen to you if you ’double-crossed’ Bill in any way, let alone _failed to deliver_...

After all, telling Bill Cipher that ‘you didn’t need him anymore’ _to him_ was, to Bill, the equivalent of saying that you didn’t have _anything_ that you **wanted** anymore, for him to be able to make a _Deal_ with you over. ~~(Thus, making you useless to him.)~~ ...Up to, and including, **wanting** ‘to _continue to live_ ’ or ‘to _stay alive_ ’, or to _keep_ anything of what you currently had going for you.

Because in Bill Cipher’s mind, ‘not wanting anything’ translated to ‘being dead already’ -- which had been a hard-learned lesson for Ford. ...Even more so when the _way_ he’d learned this was through how Bill had decided to torture him with it, by applying it to every single solitary person in existence _other than_ himself, and making him _watch_ as he--

(Ford had seen quite a few people die, from ‘not wanting anything’ from Bill. Far, far too many. ~~...And those that wanted _everything_ from Bill--~~)

Miz pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them. "Why won’t anyone ever accept my help when I ask? They’re fine with living under my protection so long as they don’t know I’m giving it to them. But the second that they know it’s _me_ they all want nothing to do with my help." She smiled bitterly, "But they’re perfectly _fine_ with accepting my help when I pretend to be something else. They just don’t like _me_." She pressed her face against her legs.

Stan winced. The heck had been happenin’ in her dimension? Were triangles really considered that scary to look at over there? Somethin’ else had to be goin’ on… right? (...or was it kind of like the kid with everybody else and their dog, just refusing to…)

"...Still don’t see how we’re gettin’ from ‘I don’t want to eat any planets’ to ‘I won’t eat any demon food’ here," Stan told the demon-kids both. "Not like your sister’s making planets to eat, there. Just salad. Outta human-food. So."

Bill rolled his eyes. "That Stanford--"

"I am not being _picky_!" Ford hissed. "I have very good reasons for not trusting--"

"--has his reasons, too," the kid continued, giving Ford a long, almost unreadable look, as Ford snapped his mouth shut and stared.

"Yeah, okay," said Stan. "You’ve both got reasons. Mind sharing them with the rest of us?" Stan said, to which Ford clenched his jaw and otherwise remained silent, not wanting to look at him.

"...You’d have to override that Stanford on talking about other dimensions, Stanley," the kid told him, still giving Ford a long look. But then the kid turned to him. "They aren’t ‘frivolous’. You _shouldn’t_ take food from other demons. I haven’t seen Miz do anything… objectionable," the kid put out there, glancing back at Ford again. "But other demons in this dimensional set…" The kid trailed off.

"Is this something I gotta worry about," Stan repeated.

"No," said the kid. " _You_ don’t. You’re mine," the triangle demon told him. "--So are Pine Tree and Shooting Star. And that Stanford."

"Then why’s he so worried about it," Stan deadpanned. "Tell me." (Stan saw Ford tense out of the corner of his eye.) "Keep it general," he told the kid. "No specifics."

The kid eyed Ford a bit. "He’s seen other demons… do things," the kid said slowly and... about as generally as Stan had ever heard him talk. Then he looked back to Stan. "And he wasn’t in the loop as much before."

"In the loop," Stan said, frowning. "Meaning…" what? That he was too far away from the rest of them?

The kid looked frustrated. "In the loop is _in the loop!_ \--In the circuit. …In the Zodiac?" the kid tried. "--He’s more connected to the rest of you now."

"So, taking food from demons wouldn’t cause him problems anymore," Stan tried.

"Yes," said the kid. "Taking food from other demons won’t cause him problems anymore." Stan let out a sigh. But before he could relax, the kid said next, "You still shouldn’t eat it."

_"Why not,"_ Stan said, giving the kid a long look. "No runaround this time, just tell me, damnit." Because, really, he was getting tired of this--

"Because they could have done something to it."

Stan stared at the kid, and he realized after a moment how very pissed off the kid looked right now.

...Because _that_ was the real, full reason the kid hadn’t wanted to tell any of them before what he would or wouldn’t eat. Not just because somebody might try to add something he didn’t want to eat to what he was eating -- it was because, to the kid’s mind, _anybody_ who knew what he _would_ eat could do absolutely **anything** to it _before_ he sat down and ate it, _while he wasn’t looking_.

And knowing at least some of how the kid’s messed-up thought processes worked, the kid probably thought that he was giving Ford _ideas_ for how to mess with him, with what he'd just said, because Stan had told him to tell him straight-out _while Ford was standing right there listening_...

"Yeah, well, here's a new ‘house rule’ for ya -- in case, y’know, it wasn’t clear enough already," Stan ground out, just putting it out there. "Anybody who messes with anybody else’s food, trying to mess with them? That gets counted as a flat-out _attack_ ," Stan said. "Understand?" He sent a glare first the kid’s, then Ford’s way.

...Both of them were staring at him, blinking.

"What," said Stan. "Any of you got a problem with that?" He eyed the both of them (and the other three in the cabin, for good measure).

Miz huffed. "Food is IMPORTANT! I don’t mess with it!" She mumbled about stupid wasabi pranks and how she still hadn’t forgiven someone she’d apparently known who’d done that to her. "...told me it was green tea ice cream…"

"...I don’t have a problem with that," the kid said slowly to Stan. "I have the _OPPOSITE_ of a problem with that." (He glanced over at his sister at her muttered comment though, frowning slightly. --Did he need to GET REVENGE for her? ...Or help her to get that revenge for herself?)

"No, Stan," Ford said quietly. "I don’t have a problem with that."

_"Good,"_ said Stan (after he sent two glares the younger twins’ ways, and got confirmations out of them both, too). "Right; good talk. --Ford, you don’t gotta eat anything you don’t want to, for any reason; kid, same goes for you, too, in case that wasn’t clear. ...Miz, you keep on eating whatever you want," Stan deadpanned. "Now. All of you get over here and eat your tacos and stuff." And with that said, Stan gestured to the put-together tacos that Lee was making. "Salad was cut up and tossed together by Miz; kid, check that and give us a reading on it for Ford. Me and Lee did the tacos; that includes cutting up the meat fixings and the cheese," Stan added for good measure. "Miz washed up the lettuce and tomatoes stuff when she was pulling stuff out for the salad, and cut it up, but nothin’ else, and… kid?"

The kid finished whatever thing he was checking by messing around with the _whatever_ at his wrist, as he and Miz both stood up, with Miz putting the very large salad bowl on the table. "It’s fine. Good enough for me to eat; I plan on eating most of the salad, no tacos," the kid told them. "The drink is fine, as well. I won’t drink the basil lemonade; the flavored water is mine."

Stan noted the kid’s own ‘mine’ claims with a nod (which the kid usually did for his food and stuff when Ford wasn’t in the room but the niblings _were_ these days, so saying it outright right _now_ was… kinda new, but also not). Ford slowly made his way over, still staring at Stan and glancing over at Bill and Miz a few times.

"Sit down and eat," Stan told Ford, handing over a plate with three tacos on it to him -- practically shoving the edge of the plate into his chest, really. (It was only meat and cheese and the shells, made up himself just then with the last meat he'd just grilled, so he could say that he was the only one who had touched the stuff, if his brother wanted to be really paranoid about everything and asked.) Ford blinked down at it as he took it. "Miz made both of the drinks, so if you want something else, you’ll need to grab water from the sink," Stan told his brother, next. (...And Ford promptly set down his plate, picked up two glasses and turned around, heading for the sink. Right.)

"Basil lemonade? Basil water?" Lee asked as he looked at the pitcher of lemonade with some distinctive green leaves floating in it, which was sitting next to another pitcher with slightly more odd-colored water, a few visible lemon slices and more of the basil leaves in it.

Miz nodded. "I made it once a really long time ago with a human friend. It was good." She scooped out some of the salad to put into serving plates for the others before handing the rest of the bowl to Bill. "The only flavoring is some lemon juice, peppers and a bit of basil," she told him. "I got basil at the store and wanted to use ‘em for stuff. Gonna try out some other spices later."

"--The difference between them is that the ‘lemonade’ has sugar added to it, too!" Bill added, for completeness, without prompting. " _THAT_ one." He pointed.

"Brother doesn’t like added sugars. Natural glucose from the fruits are fine, but the actual sugar stuff is a no-no for him." Miz explained to the younger twins.

Bill frowned. (He didn’t like information being wrong; Liam had always corrected him when he was wrong; he was Miz’s big brother now. All of these things were connected in his mind, which led to…)

"I prefer sour and bitter," Bill noted almost absently, as he sat down with a fork for his salad bowl. "But I CAN eat sweet and salty _if I HAVE to_." He pulled a slight face, though.

"I will try to use more sour stuff for you in the future. Maybe try grilling some bitter melon, you might like that." Miz noted. Bill looked up and blinked at her. "Even if I can’t eat melons, you might like them." She smiled. Stan glanced over. She was already doing the ‘thinking of what others might like’ thing. Good.

"This is fine," Bill said, pointing down that salad with his fork. He didn’t see any reason not to eat it; the salad was as ‘clean’ as human food ever got, it wasn’t overly saturated with sweet or salty things, and everything in it came from fruits and vegetables that didn't have any soul-bits stuck to them. "Mine!" He shoved his fork into the salad, retrieved some of it, and took a bite.

...HMMMMMMMM. The lemon juice made it sour, the pepper seasoning was nice and spicy (he LIKED pepper!), and the kale and the chopped nuts were both mildly bitter.

Bill smiled a little as he chewed.

(Stan noted this. First time he’d seen the kid smile while eating anything.)

Miz was wiggling proudly when she saw that Bill was enjoying her cooking.

"-- _Also_ -mine!" Bill said enthusiastically, before taking a sip out of his own glass.

"Stan…" Ford said, as Stan picked up his first taco.

"Ford, all the dragon-lady did was cut the lettuce and tomato stuff," Stan told him, as Ford plunked donw a glass of water in front of him. "She didn't make it up outta sand; this is the stuff _we_ got from the store. He really wasn't seeing the problem, here. "Kid even said it was fine," Stan told his brother, then said half tongue-in-cheek next, "Not like she 'claimed' any of the fixings or nothin' for herself."

And Stan saw Ford just… pause.

And he watched Ford begin to relax.

Stan eyed this, and then took a bite of his taco. His brother wasn't even looking at him, now, let alone looking like he was going to pitch a fit at him eating something that had stuff in it that the dragon-lady had touched.

It left Stan wondering, as he finished off his taco in another two bites, exactly how much of all the kid's 'mine'ing was _actually_ some kind of a thing. Stan noted that Miz was copying her brother now, picking up a glass of lemonade and saying, "This one is mine."

"Yes!" the kid said to her. "That one is yours now. --Good job!" Stan looked up and saw the kid smiling at her for it, and _still_ continuing to smile while he was eating and drinking that stuff his sister had made for him. Huh. Stan wiped off his hands to take a drink of his own water for a minute, thinking.

"Hey, Miz," Stan said, with a gesture at the salad as he put down his own water glass. "What all’d you put in there, anyway?" Stan asked Miz, as he picked up his next taco. "For the recipe?"

_That_ had Miz happily chattering away at him a bit, as Bill munched on his salad, and the rest of them dug into their own food. (The kids, Stan noted, stayed away from the salad, but while Lee went in for water too, Sixer poured himself a glass of the lemonade _and_ picked up one of those small side plates of the salad. …Well, at least Ford didn’t lose his shit over it, even if he did give his younger self a long dark look for it.)

"...nuts go really well with salads as a source of non-meat protein, they crunch nicely and with the kale chopped up like so, they mix together really well! And the added lemon juice helps to bind everything together because of the surface tension of the water content inside it, which makes it moist and that’s good because the walnuts are pretty dry on their own and…" Miz babbled on. Stan nodded and gave her a smile, before taking another bite out of his next taco. She really seemed like a normal kid sometimes, so long as she was busy with food-related stuff like this.

...Stan also realized that Miz must have been thinking a lot about ways to make food that would still taste good even with Bill’s limitations. (Hell, had she gone with lemons in the salad because Bill hadn’t really liked the sweet strawberries from the vegetable dish he’d eaten last time?) She didn’t _need_ to do that -- the kid _would_ eat crackers and burnt toast without doing more than grumbling out loud a little bit about it -- but Miz had made an effort to find ways to make Bill’s food something _he_ thought was ‘good’, so that he would _enjoy_ eating it.

...And that was really a good idea. Stan had been trying to figure out something the kid might actually like to eat for awhile now, but with the kid not talking about his food ‘preferences’ before, he hadn’t exactly gotten anywhere. Miz was really speeding up the process now, though; Stan didn’t just have a list of ‘will’s and ‘won’t’s now -- the dragon lady was working up actual recipes. Stan made some mental notes on this stuff as she talked, because if he could make sure he had the right fixings in the house for this stuff, and made _more_ of it, he bet he could get the kid to actually eat more. Because that was still a problem; the kid wasn’t practically skin and bones anymore, but he was still pretty damn far underweight for his height and build -- even for a ‘human-ish female’, or whatever.

Getting to eat enough would solve a whole host of problems with the kid, Stan was pretty sure. --Chief among them being, the worst sniping sessions between Ford and the kid tended to happen at or just before mealtimes, when the kid hadn’t had anything (or enough) to eat yet. Kid just didn’t think all that clearly when he was hungry -- which he’d only gotten the kid to actually admit to, not too long ago. But if Stan could get the kid eating more, then he’d have more food in his system; it’d tide him over longer, and probably end up making mealtimes that much smoother. ~~(Because as much as Stan didn’t like to admit it, _the kid_ was the one who tended to grind those arguments to a halt more easily, _not_ Ford, just by not snapping back at Ford directly for _all_ of it, and redirecting by ‘talking back’ to Stan instead. At least, the kid did that when Ford tried starting something with him verbally, with what was probably the nerdbot equivalent of trash-talk. When it was _the kid_ starting it, though--)~~

Not for the first time, Stan acknowledged that even with some of the problems that arose with the dragon-lady being here, she _was_ helping out with the kid. She was good for the kid. And the fact that she was legitimately trying to learn to be good from Stan ~~even if she was crap at following up on it, hurting his brother without even trying--~~ was a thing that Stan intended to take full advantage of, again and still.

Now, if only he could get her and Ford to stop taking swipes at each other every other minute…

Stan mentally sighed. The two of ‘em just couldn’t seem to get along; they were even worse than Ford and the kid, _and that was sayin’ something_.

Because Ford would say something that happened to tick Miz off for some reason or another and then she’d snipe at him -- or vice-versa, with Miz being the one to say something that set Ford off -- and then Stan would have to get between them before things escalated even further, every time. Worse, Ford seemed to have his reasons for snapping at her, even if he didn’t want to talk about them half the time. But most of the time, Miz ~~seemed to be just being petty, or caught up in some crazy-bad thing that was completely messed up, and~~ didn’t _want_ to stop, so she didn't--

...And Stan couldn't lean on the kid for backup for any of this, because the kid wasn’t exactly any better than Stan himself was right now at trying to get Miz to stop. The kid had just made stuff worse at the kitchen table, the first time Stan had seen the kid actually try to… ‘enlighten her’ a couple nights ago on stuff to do with Ford… which was maybe half the problem he’d had there, not getting anywhere with her on that because she wasn’t all that human anymore... and the kid hadn’t exactly gotten all that much better at stopping her when she needed to be stopped, any time since. (Not that the _kid_ knew when _he_ should stop _either_ , half the time.) So Stan couldn’t exactly ‘enlist’ the kid’s help to magically solve this one, either. ...It was a problem.

...Well, at least his brother wasn’t trying to haul off and _shoot_ the 'man-eating' dragon-lady, though. _That_ wouldn't end well.

They all ate quietly for a bit as Miz finished explaining the salad and began eating her own taco and some of the salad, making a slight face at the peppers but wanting to learn to get over her aversion to it… heck, maybe some sweet lemonade would help…? Ahh~ much better. Stupid spicy peppers!

Wanting to fill the silence, Sixer spoke up. "So…" He chewed on his taco. "What’s up with Mr. Harman?"

Ford stiffened. Stan sighed. Miz looked confused and let her gaze drift off to Flicker and see what this was about. Bill continued eating.

"Bill… ‘inspired’ him a little bit," Stan said, explaining it as best as he could, from what he now knew. "Some of the stuff the kid knows is... kind of ‘addictive’ for smart people sometimes, when he tells it to ‘em. Kinda like catnip, for nerds?"

"Catnip isn’t addictive, or habit-forming in any way," Ford said lowly, giving Stan a dark look.

"Fine," said Stan, brushing off the purposefully bad analogy -- because hey, if his brother really _wanted_ him to get all accurate and junk on this stuff... "More like nicotine, then. Bad for you, poisonous in large doses, builds up over time so you need more and more of it to get that quick rush, you don’t ever want to stop, it’s hard to break the habit once you’ve got it, and you still think you need it even after you _definitely_ know that you don’t anymore. ...Involves a lot of smoke getting blown places, too," Stan added, not looking over at his brother as he talked, choosing to take another bite of his taco instead. He chewed, swallowed, then said, "The kid didn’t think that what he was doin’ was a problem, before. I’ve told him otherwise, now. So now he knows he needs to not go off doing it," even if the demon didn’t understand yet _why he shouldn’t do it_ , "Not to people like Mr. Harman," or to Ford.

" _Why_ is he… addictive to our physics teacher?" Sixer asked next.

Stan shrugged at Sixer at that, not letting on to how _angry_ the whole thing had made ~~and was still making~~ him. "Has to do with giving people too much of what they _think_ they want," Stan told him, because as far as he could tell…? That had been it. "The kid’s happy to keep on giving it to them, as long as they keep asking him for it. And then they do some kinda brainiac-O.D. on it; they think they’re ‘just’ _thinking_ , and they just don’t know when to stop. --And the kid sure ain’t gonna stop for them, because _he_ thinks _they’re_ the ones who are supposed to be the one to say ‘when’. Except, they go off and _don’t_. And some of that ‘don’t’ is _not_ doin’ things like eatin’ and sleeping, which you kinda need to do to keep on doing _anything_ , without killing yourself. So."

Sixer frowned thoughtfully, as he tried to think that one over, with the limited (and purposefully general) information Stan had just given him. ...And Ford was _real_ quiet over at his end of the table. (Yeah, well, if he hadn't wanted him to talk about it, then Ford should've just let him stick to the 'catnip' thing.)

Miz blinked a few times. "...still seems like it would be difficult to tell one way or another if it was bad or not until we get to that point…" she mused. "How would I tell if someone was just really excited to learn something versus if they were going to obsess over it? I don’t want to hurt anyone…" Luckily, Ms. Talia seemed fine now, after having some time to think about it.

Stan glanced over at her. "That an actual question?" he asked her. She nodded. (...Hell, the kid looked almost interested, too.) Stan let out a sigh.

"...You want to take this one, Ford?" Stan tried, looking over at his brother.

"I’d rather _not_ ," Ford said quietly, looking down at his water, before lifting it up and drinking it down like he wished he was chugging something a hell of a lot stronger.

...Right. Okay. Sure. Give the guy with the wheel the wheel back instead of the ‘recovering addict’, why not. (...Then again, his _brother_ skipped meals every time he thought he could get away with it, and thought food pills were _better_ than sliced bread. Maybe Stan _should_ be taking point on this one.) "Somebody talks with you for more than an hour, or skips a food break or a water break, or _bathroom_ break," Stan told her, "Then you _know_ there’s somethin’ else going on. --You try tellin’ ‘em _you_ want to stop for a bit and get some food, and they look jittery or wanna protest? Even if you tell ‘em after that that you can pick up the conversation _after_ you’re both sitting down someplace with some food? You’ve _definitely_ got a problem," Stan told her. "People need breaks for that stuff."

Miz blinked. "Like when we’re doing an anime marathon and get so invested that we forget the time?" she asked carefully. "Or only if someone remembers the time and asks for a break but someone else doesn’t want to?"

"Yeah," said Stan. "Like TV marathons. You get somebody who _has_ to see it live, not even okay with recording it and picking up watching the recording right after, later? --That’s a little messed up; kinda too much," he told her. "And even if they seem okay with whatever, you can get ‘em to stop and eat and take breaks? If you still end up going for more than five hours with ‘em, or it starts gettin’ to be night, and they don’t want to go to sleep… it’s the same thing," Stan told her. "They were just _holdin’ out_ on ya for a little bit. Those are the smarter ones who know how not to drop on their feet, but think they can get away with no-sleep," he warned her. (Y'know, like his _brother_.) "That don’t work out for ‘em either. Don’t let ‘em try to get away with it."

Miz nodded, seeming to get it. "So it’s only a problem if they neglect their own health in pursuit of the thing they want to do…" She frowned. "Like staying up to 3 AM working on a school assignment? Or is that just a normal type of unhealthy forced on students from the pressures inherent in the education system?"

"...Normal type of screwed-up for _nerd_ -bots, maybe," Stan pointed out. "The rest of us _like_ our sleep." He’d never had that problem, even if his brother always had. He was pretty sure Dipper had that problem, too. Mabel was pretty good about making sure she got enough sleep, even if she was working on something, because _she_ knew -- like he did -- that just trying to keep going and going on and on just didn’t work. It took you twice as long to get half as much done, and eventually you just weren't getting _anywhere_ anymore. ...And he’d figured all this stuff out pretty early on, trying to get that portal working. After awhile, he’d been forced to realize, and then admit, that he'd _had_ to pace himself, or he was never gonna get anywhere, at all, _ever_.

"But yeah," Stan told her, leaning back in his chair, "They neglect their health? They’re definitely goin’ too far, too hard. They’re gonna crash." Neglecting work and family or anything else was a whole ‘nother issue that Stan wasn’t gonna get into just then. Mostly because, if they weren’t so obsessed with junk that they were just too tired and hungry to think straight, then they could just go off and make that decision for themselves, Stan figured. (Their teach, on the other hand, _hadn’t_ been thinking that clearly -- which was why he’d had problems there, Stan _also_ figured.)

Miz nodded again, seemingly understanding what to look out for now. "I’m gonna have to check on Kryptos when I get home, then. He’s been pulling some all-nighters working on some kinda Death Ray…"

"Ugh," went Bill. "Kryptos… I don’t like that guy," he muttered. (Stan frowned.)

"He’s not that bad, at least mine isn’t. I’m not sure what yours is like." Miz tilted her head. "Mine’s really cute. Always invites me out to go to restaurants or amusement parks with him. Dunno why he keeps insisting that it should just be an ‘us’ thing whenever I try to invite my other friends to come with us though…"

Everyone stared at her. Lee finally spoke up, "Er… maybe he wanted _alone time_ with you?"

Miz blinked. "But we _do_ have alone time? I hang out with all my Friends. Both by themselves and with my other friends?" She looked a little confused.

"Sounds a little suffocating to me," was Sixer’s blase contribution to this, looking down at his notebook as he wrote a few more things down. Trying to steal all her time for himself, not wanting to let her have some space for herself… (and he didn't notice at all, as Ford frowned over at him _severely_ ~~while also covering an internal wince~~.)

Miz twitched and frowned at him. "What’s wrong with hanging out with my friends? We live together and we enjoy each other’s company." She huffed. "And I don’t mind being with them if they want me. I’m just not sure why Kryptos wanted it to be just us two. It’s more fun with more people, right?"

Bill looked askance at her. "...You said he’s building a Death Ray?" Bill asked, putting his fork down and paying a bit more attention at this point.

"Yeah. He said it was a project for his mechanic’s class. Something about wanting to find a way to generate a lot of energy for precise attacks from far away…"

"Oh, _WELL_." Bill took a sip of his ‘flavored’ water, then said, as easy as you please, "He’s probably trying to kill you then."

"...That is _not_ what I got out of that," Lee muttered to himself, looking between them.

Miz blinked. "Wha? Kryptos?" She started laughing, so hard she rolled out of her seat, down onto the ground, and kicking her legs in the air. "Pfffth! Ahahahaha! Kryptos? Killing ME? That’s RIDICULOUS!"

"Never said I thought he might be able to _pull it off_ , not if he’s anything like _my_ friend," Bill said, putting both elbows down on the table and propping his chin up on his hands. "But--"

"Ahahaha! That-" Miz cackled. "That’s HILARIOUS! No way. Ahahaha!"

"Yes," Bill said simply. "It IS hilarious." Not funny at all. -- _CLEARLY_ , he was going to have to kill this individual for her.

Miz gasped for breath and rolled onto her side. "Nah. Even if Kryptos wanted to kill anyone, it wouldn’t be ME he was after. He’s my friend." She giggled.

"He wants to ‘spend time with you’," Bill ticked off, to start with. "He wants to _set up a place and time_ that he knows where you will be. --He _doesn’t like it_ when there are more people there, who might get in the way of the _long-range, high precision **energy beam** weaponry_ that he is trying to point at you from a great distance. It ruins his tracking," Bill said, "-- _and_ ruins his alibi, if there are more people around. He won’t be able to maneuver you into position as easily, or slip away and handle the gun disposal afterwards without one of your _OTHER_ more-loyal friends potentially following him after, and then catching on."

Lee rubbed the back of his neck, looking between the two demons. "Um… it sounds more like that guy’s trying to date you to me," Lee pointed out. "...Unless there are _really_ different rules for dating demons or something," Lee put out there next, as it slowly occurred to him that maybe trying to kill each other could be a demon thing? (The dragon-lady did eat people sometimes, she'd said. Was that kinda stuff considered _romantic_ for demons? --Sixer had _better_ stop flirting with her, if _that_ was true!)

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. _These two_ , he swore...

Miz raised an eyebrow. "Kryptos… dating me?" Her eyes seemed to flicker before she snorted. "That’s even less likely. We’re just friends." She turned to her brother and pouted. "And there’s no way he’d be planning to kill me. We’re friends. And he loves me. He told me so." She grinned. "And I love him too! Because he’s my friend!"

Bill frowned. Then let out a half-laugh, half-snort. "LOVE? -- _’Love’_ is [a sick raw biological urge to reproduce trying to dress up in a suit and charm its way through the opera!](https://www.reddit.com/r/gravityfalls/comments/315yoy/comment/cpyp1ng) \--You’re letting someone who _TELLS_ you that they ‘love’ you GET AWAY WITH trying to TIE YOU DOWN IN ONE LOCATION AND SHOOT YOU INTO THE GRAVE!" Bill told her, tossing his hands up into the air in frustration. "YOU and your SQUIRMY FEELINGS!" Bill huffed out, almost in offense. WHY did his sister have NO sense of SELF-PRESERVATION?!?

Lee was muttering to himself, "Feel bad for that guy, if the girl he likes is THIS oblivious…" Not to mention the crazy demon brother who wanted to kill him, because he was practically as oblivious as his sister was. --Heck, the guy had straight up told Miz he loved her, and she still hadn’t gotten the point!

Miz scoffed. "There’s different kinds of love. Not just the sexual need to reproduce." She frowned. "I doubt we’re compatible anyway, our species don’t even have similar genitalia… and even beyond that, there’s no way he’d like me in that way. We’re just friends." She shook her head. "And I love _you_ as my brother. That’s not from any need to reproduce."

Bill blinked and his arms dropped slightly.

"Oh." Bill looked a lot calmer all of a sudden, as he slowly began to lower his arms back to his sides. "You don’t mean _eros_ -love, or _storge_ -’love’. You mean _agape-philia_ -love. --That’s _different_ ," Bill said. "That’s fine." (...And for some reason, Ford was looking like he’d just been hit over the head with a cinderblock at hearing that, now; Stan was _definitely_ gonna have to get a translation from him later, from whatever weird language _that_ was from.) Then Bill frowned. "--Still shouldn’t be taking advantage of your feelings for him to try and kill you, though," Bill said, then brightened. "You should get your OTHER friends to keep an EYE on him for you!" Bill told her. " _They’re_ trustworthy and _not at all_ acting-suspicious, yes?" Getting ‘friends’ who weren’t yet compromised to rat out the ones who _were_ was a viable strategy; Bill had done THAT before with his own Henchmaniacs many-a-time.

Miz rolled her eyes, quite sure that Bill was being paranoid. "Alright, I’ll ask Pyronica and the others to watch him in case he really _is_ trying to kill me. I still doubt it though. He’s too much or a dork to be able to hide murderous intent from me," to which Bill replied promptly, "YES! Do THAT!" (Bill looked skeptical at this, not wanting to trust that someone who he thought might be trying to openly kill his sister WASN’T trying to do so, not without vetting them PERSONALLY himself… but he tried to content himself with the fact that his little sister _was_ listening to him, and would be taking at least some precautions. ...and wasn’t going home just yet, so he could help her with her PTSD and her layering and other-defenses, and a few _OTHER_ terrible tricks that she could surprise anyone else with, before she went!…)

Lee was groaning as he buried his face in his hands. Demon or not, he was pretty darn sure that his own guess was correct, and not Bill’s. Because hey, didn’t Miz say that Kryptos guy was inviting her to restaurants and amusement parks? Those were very much ‘date’ types of places to take a girl! Just to test out his theory, Lee asked, "Did this guy invite you to go out with him by yourselves to any other places?"

Miz counted out on her fingers, "A zoo, the beach, a flower garden, we tried to go to the movies once but they wouldn’t permit me to enter, so I had to disguise myself."

"And these are all things that you like?" Lee pressed. "That he knew that you like when he asked you to go there with just him?"

Miz paused and thought about it. "Yes?" She thought about it. "You know, Kryptos doesn’t like flowers, but he always gets me some, and not the bouquet stuff, I don’t like those, he gets me little potted flowers… and he got that part time job because he said he didn’t want to rely on my money all the time..." she frowned. "Ah, he’s always thinking of me. I should thank him for that when I get home."

Lee stared at her.

"Uh…" said Lee. "You know that when a guy does stuff that he knows you like, that he doesn’t really like so much… that he really _really_ likes you, right? And wants to date you? --I mean, the guy’s _crazy_ about you," Lee said. "You _just said_ that he’s thinking about you all the time!"

Miz blinked, still uncomprehending. "Yeah. He’s my friend and he loves me. But dating…" She looked confused. "Why would he want to date _me_? That’s… that’s not…" She frowned. "Why would he want _me_? That doesn’t…"

Everyone, even Ford, was staring at her at this point. (...Well, except Sixer, who was bored by the conversation, and scribbling down other thoughts in his notebook.) Stan sighed and took over.

"Kid, pat your sister on the head for me. --Miz?" Stan said, as Bill started doing that, "We can talk about this later. Don’t worry about it, for now. Yeah?" The way Stan saw it, he figured that the dragon lady must have even worse self-esteem issues than he’d thought… because this was, hell, _Ford_ -level dating issues. Like, nobody-could-ever-possibly-like-me-because-of-my- _hands_ -denial and all the rest of it. Just, I-am-a- _triangle_ -and-everybody-hates-triangles-so-that-can’t-be-a-thing-denial instead. (Stan had never really figured that one out for Ford; he was gonna need the kid’s help for this one, but he wasn’t too sure how well _that_ would go over, with how the kid had talked about ‘squirmy’ stuff with his kid sister _every single time_ so far...)

"It’s nice that he’s thinking of you, yeah?" Stan tried with her, instead of trying to tackle it all with her right then. (Especially not with Ford and the younger twins around. Besides, they had other stuff they needed to talk about that night, before it got too late.) "Maybe you could just, y’know, try thinking about him a little more often, too. See what happens. Just in case?"

Miz still looked confused but nodded. "I check up on him to make sure he’s getting rest and eating properly. He forgets sometimes when he’s working."

"That’s good. --That you're doin' that for him," Stan added, not wanting her to maybe misunderstand what he was saying. "Maybe think about stuff he might like, too, when you’re out… looking at stuff, next?" Stan told her, trying to think of examples for her. "You’re looking for cookbooks next; maybe try thinking of other stuff that guy might like to read? Is he a reader?" Stan asked. Because, yeah, that was a thing. He’d liked reading comic books and _some_ stuff, growing up, and Ford had always read everything he could get his hands on. But apparently some people weren’t real ‘big on’ reading, and didn’t even like newspapers or comic books. ( _That_ had been a big shocker, when he’d realized it. ...Because, y'know, there was a difference between deciding to finish reading something or hanging out with your friends, and just not liking reading _at all_.)

"He’s a really big reader." Miz grinned. "He also likes to learn things himself, without me telling him. It’s really cute."

"Well see there, you got something in common," Stan said. "You both like learnin’ stuff. Might want to keep an eye out for books for him more often when you’re out, maybe, then?" Stan said leadingly. "He does flowers for you, you do books for him?"

"Okay." Miz agreed easily. She thought about it. "Kryptos also likes power, so maybe I could get him books about how to gain political influence? Or books on how to manipulate the physical world?" she mused.

("Oh, he is DEFINITELY planning on killing you and trying to take over your Henchmaniacs," Bill muttered, which got him a long warning look from Stanley for some reason Stanley wasn't saying. --Which was _stupid_ , because it wasn’t like Bill hadn’t had PLENTY of experience in SEEING the WARNING SIGNS before!!! He KNEW what he was TALKING ABOUT!)

"Uh," said Stan, to Miz. " _Maybe_ start small first. --Ask your brother for pointers," he said next, because the kid would probably not recommend anything to her that might be too ‘kill and/or enslave the dimension’ kinds of powerful. ...Probably. (Not if the kid was worried about the guy ‘taking over’, anyway.)

"I don’t suppose we could talk about something _else_ , beyond how to be a _better_ \--" Ford grimaced, then cut _himself_ off. (Which had Stan just about ready to hug him, right there.) "Something lighter, perhaps?" he tried again, with an edge to his tone that he couldn’t quite keep out of it.

"--Sure," Stan said, taking that and running with it. "First things first. --Kid, your sister tell you about a list that she’s supposed to be writing up for you?"

Bill blinked.

Then Bill looked over at his sister. (She had said something earlier about a list that was…)

Miz flicked her wrist and summoned a little notebook. She handed it over to him, looking embarrassed. "Just… stuff that I might need you to help me with? I guess?" She took a large bite out of her taco to avoid having to talk.

"It’s supposed to be a bunch of stuff that she thinks is any kind of problem at all," Stan told the kid (trying to make stuff clear -- and not just for the kid, because his brother looked about ready to have a heart attack right there for a second). "All the stuff that ain’t so great that she doesn’t like, or that she wishes wasn’t a thing." (...Aaaaand Ford wasn't looking any better. Hell, Ford. Stan shot him a look to calm the hell down.)

Bill looked down at it and started paging through it slowly.

"--I asked her to write it up for you," Stan said, trying to make it as clear as he could, "But you should probably talk to her about it, maybe ask her about a few things that you might already be worried about, too. --I’m tryin’ to help you catch a couple things early here, kid," Stan told him outright. "Like the emotion thing. Don’t really need any of this biting her or anybody else, later." (And now Ford was eyeing the kid and the notebook. Stan didn't know _what_ the hell his brother had been thinking before, but it definitely must not've been stuff like the PTSD thing, or _that_.)

"Mm," said Bill. He frowned slightly as he flipped a page, then went a bit still where he was sitting in place. (In the meantime, Stan got up to help clear some of the plates… and pull a few frozen ice-pops out of the ‘colder-box’ for the younger twins, his brother, Miz, and himself.)

"...You are oscillating between extremes?" Bill said, looking up at Miz abruptly. She winced. "I’m just having trouble adjusting. Sometimes my powers really want to do certain things, but I don’t want them to…"

"This is not ‘problems adjusting’," Bill said, waving the small notebook at her. "You are going near-empty, then full again, _on purpose_." He sounded more than a little stressed, enough that it had Ford watching him again (while Lee got up from the table and went over to sit near his twin on the bunk beds, where he was). "And you feel _detached_ from what your own energy does and can do internally?" Bill asked next. "Even though you were _not_ layering before?" (Hell, the kid had only gotten through the first two pages, there, and he was _already_ … Stan sighed to himself, because yeah, he’d called it.)

Miz winced. "Back home I had a better grasp on how much energy it took to do stuff. It’s just… harder here. And my powers have always felt somewhat separate from me."

"This was a problem before." The kid did _not_ look happy about this. "This is what you were _writing about_ before. --This is half the reason that you felt-and-feel this way?" Bill said. "More than half? --Almost-all-of-it now, because you have me and your friends?" Bill said, of the itching and the human-like suicidal-like behavior, of tearing herself open and bleeding out the ‘excess’ energy...

"...I’m sorry…" Miz looked down at her lap.

"’Sorry’." Bill repeated. " _Sorry_ is not…" He looked away from her, and back at the notebook. "‘Sorry’ is not the word," he told her, setting it down. "You should have told me sooner. -- _THIS_ is what is causing most of your problems." He looked back over at her and brought his face down in, closer to hers, almost nose-to-nose. "If this goes away -- if I FIX what makes the problem, and the ITCHING goes away because the problem causing the itching is no longer THERE, _well._ \--THAT solves LOTS OF THINGS!" he told her, his eyes going a good bit brighter.

"...I just got used to it… didn’t really think about fixing it… didn’t really occur to me…" Miz mumbled.

"--Like the emotions-feeling," Bill said, leaning back and away from her slightly, going back to sitting upright again. " _Don’t_ be ‘sorry’ -- be NOT-sorry! You are _telling_ me now, and we will fix it ALL now," he said to her firmly. " _Before_ you leave. --We will work on this _NEXT_ ," he informed her. "This is IMPORTANT." And then Bill looked up at Stanley. "--You noticed this."

"Was talkin’ with her; some of it came up," Stan said. "Figured I’d get her to get it all down for you, whatever she could think of."

"This was a good idea," Bill said, looking down at the notebook, and flipping on to the next page. "Thank you."

(Ford looked on at this, stunned.)

"You are telling me now," Bill said, as he reached up and patted Miz on the head, "This is good, that you are telling me," he added, as he looked down at the notebook again and continued reading one-handed, while Stan passed out ice pops.

Miz leaned lightly against her brother, relaxing slightly once she realized he wasn’t _angry_ at her for being ~~broken~~ messed up. She accepted the ice pop from Stan with a quiet, "Thanks." and stuck it in her mouth, feeling a little better.

"...You ARE hooked into the karmic cycle?" Bill stared at some of the stuff his sister had written, as he kept on patting her on the head. It included a lot more detail than what she’d written down in her blog before, and a lot of what he was reading looked like it implied that she _really_ was… or _MORE_ than ‘implied’ it. He winced. "It READS like you are. ...Ugh, the Karma system." Her talk of needing to do certain ‘bad’ things to settle her uncomfortableness whenever she gave ‘freebies’ to people… the fluctuating power levels and LOSS OF CONTROL… suddenly made A LOT more SENSE now!

Miz blinked slowly. "There’s a system?"

" _Yes_ ," Bill said, sitting back a bit and grimacing. "I unhooked myself from it, a LONG time ago. Stupid cycles. Stupid shifting set-points." ...And he might still be in trouble at-present, because he _MIGHT_ currently be hooked back INTO it, again. It was looking less and less likely, the more he narrowed down _exactly_ how his anchor worked, but… he was still trying to be careful about that, and the multiplier effect that might be coming-calling any day now… (stupid lizard).

Bill frowned at the notebook as he finished reading and closed it up again, leaving his other hand resting on top of Miz’s head, now.

"AT LEAST HALF of your problems stem from this," Bill told his sister, handing back the notebook and elaborating now on [what he’d only written briefly to her on before](https://agirlwholikessweaterspigsglitter.tumblr.com/post/182698493256/maybe-you-can-bless-because-you-are-innerly-a-good). "The ‘karmic cycle’ is a long-term function of the Karmic _system_ , and it all WANTS to be balanced. So it TRIES to _‘balance’_ **itself** AGAINST **YOU.** \--If you’re HOOKED INTO it, then that _might_ explain it!" He frowned. "It’s cyclic. --It’s enacting some penalty on you AFTER you do things, repeatedly, when you are doing those things repeatedly." Like eating. And using her powers, potentially in certain specific ways. "--That system COULD be what’s causing your pain and itching. That could be PART of the penalty." The question was whether it was _for_ use, because of the _specific_ use, because of the specific _effect_ , or...

Miz sucked on the ice pop and thought about it. "Dat sshounds wite." She mumbled through the sweet cold treat. The way her powers would stir restlessly 

"The GOOD NEWS is, you _can_ detach yourself from the karmic cycle, _AND_ remove yourself from the Karma system entirely!" Bill told her. "The BAD NEWS is," and he grimaced at this, "The PERMANENT and IMMEDIATE drop in power." Bill sighed as he handed the notebook back to her. (He’d memorized it, and it was _her_ notebook; she could add more to it later if she wanted.) "You CAN build your power levels back up over time," he told her, "The HARD way." Knowledge-based power was ALWAYS harder! --But in Bill’s vaunted opinion, _far_ more worth it for the CONTROL one received, and had over oneself and one’s own ‘destiny’ and future-outcomes!

" _But_ ," Bill said, "The ‘hard way’ is _much_ more stable. And can be expanded almost infinitely FOREVER!" He smiled, then frowned again. "Karmic systems can only spike so far outwards _FOR_ you, in YOUR favor," Bill told her, "Because they are a connected-loop. They can only spike so far without breaking the loop. And the loop refuses to break; inherent limitations," the older demon told her, of what he knew of how the local system in this set worked. (And if he was ever going to get RID of that system entirely -- which he WAS, _eventually_ \-- he KNEW he was going to have to be very, VERY careful about the backlash, because the AMOUNT of pent up energy stored in there… and given what it was tied into...)

"--And they can _shift_ over time," was Bill’s next warning to her, " _And_ they are ALWAYS affected by _other people_. --You will have more _consistent_ effects," and be _much_ safer and better off, in his opinion, "If you put yourself OUTSIDE OF the cycle," he informed her, "No matter WHO you are Dealing with. It won’t matter WHO they ARE, WHAT they want, or WHAT the _outcome_ is. --History, time, place, space, area of effect, and current ‘moralistic’ thought-patterns of EVERYONE ELSE as _related_ to those things, are no longer modifiers that must be taken into account for their effect on YOU. --You can just do what you WANT, with NO CONSEQUENCES!" Bill told her with a smile. "The only _penalties_ you have to worry about THEN are ones you can then- _control_ , all- _direct_ and all-easily-Seen and easily-understood. ... **Not** something that tries to remain COMPLETELY HIDDEN and is almost _IMPOSSIBLE_ to untangle causally," Bill complained. (He’d absolutely HATED having to calculate all that out, once he’d realized what sort of problems he’d actually been RUNNING INTO there, and WHERE they had actually been coming from.)

(Stan watched his brother paying close attention to all this, without _looking_ like he was paying close attention to what he was hearing at all. And Stan took another sip of his water, and let the demons just keep right on talking...)

"The ONLY ‘good news’, besides that," Bill told her, "Is that MOST of your problems seem to be hitting you DIRECTLY. As in, _not_ being routed-thrown-and- _tossed-at_ -you **through** OTHER PEOPLE, through ‘knee-jerk’ karma-prompted actions, _or_ OTHER PLACES, through _supposedly_ -‘natural’ events." Because THAT all got _really_ messy, VERY quickly. "...Unless _your_ Karma system is VERY different from the one that is here," Bill told her. "But you are NOT seeing or feeling any changes in what is happening, yes?" Bill asked her. "The DEGREE of the SPIKES here are worse, but the IMPACT is the same." At least, that was what she’d seemed to indicate to him so far? Which was why he was checking with her by asking her _now_ , straight-out!

Miz thought about it and slowly nodded. "I think so. They’re all still making the same uncomfortable feeling." She glanced over at Ford and Stan quickly. "I don’t think my powers like it when I’m trying to be ‘good’ for so long." (Stan looked over at Ford at this, but Ford was acting all stone-faced, like he didn’t believe _any_ of this for a second. ...Hadn’t touched his own ice-pop yet, either.)

"You can try to switch your OWN definition of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ for awhile," Bill told her, "Like those ‘Blessings’," he told her. But then he added, warningly, "But you can only FOOL a Karma system for so long. _And THEN_ \-- well." _Then_ it came back to bite you, in the VERY WORST way! --And as far as BILL was concerned, the _only_ WORST that HE wanted to have around? WAS HIM!!!

"I’ve been making all sorts of justifications to alleviate or get around some of it." Miz pointed out. "I don’t really know about switching it, sounds like it would cause problems down the line."

"Yes," Bill said. "DON’T ‘ _switch_ ’ it; disconnect from the system _ENTIRELY_ , instead!"

Stan blinked at the demon’s conversation. "Wait, justifications… for ‘good’ and ‘bad’?" What little he could understand was that it sounded like Miz’s powers were hooked into some kind of system that apparently penalized her for trying to be ‘good’ by... making her itch? _Badly_ enough that she wanted to tear herself open and _die?_ \--How was _that_ ‘balancing’ things out?!? ...Hell, was her idea of ‘good’ really _that_ screwed up?

Bill looked over at him. "Karmic systems depend _and RUN_ on a definition of ‘good’ and ‘bad’. ‘Good’ people are rewarded in large ways overall, over time, and doing ‘good things’ is rewarded variably. And ‘bad’ people, _well_." The kid looked annoyed. "Extra-bonuses to ‘good’ people doing _HORRIBLE_ things to ‘bad’ people! -- _Especially_ if the things are ‘bad things’ being done to ‘balance out’ those _very_ ‘bad’ people," the kid told him sourly. "Because acting as an _equalizer_ means that the system-underpinnings _themselves_ **don’t** have to handle it, on their own. So those ‘energy savings’ get _passed along_ as _karmic benefit_ to the acting-enactor. And NO bonuses for ‘bad’ people, _ever_ , no matter what they do or don’t-do, _no-matter-what_. --How FAIR is that?!" The kid looked incensed.

Stan stared, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what this all meant. "So…" he started, but the kid cut him off, apparently not done yet with his short (for him) rant.

"--And if _ENOUGH_ people _decide_ that ‘some thing’ is BAD and then YOU are suddenly classified as a ‘BAD’ person because of this, _WELL_ ," Bill said next, "Aren’t YOU just three-different-types of _screwed over_ , by what all those OTHER _STUPID PEOPLE_ THINK!" Bill crossed his arms and leaning back. "--Do you know what all THAT is ACTUALLY pushing for?!" Bill looked even angrier. "--It’s pushing for _SOMEONE_ to TAKE CONTROL of ALL _THOUGHT_!" Bill said next. "To _dictate_ FREE WILL, to _try_ and game the system!" (And Bill suddenly looked incredibly tense, Stan realized.) "--And it _**would** work!_" Bill spat out next, "They would be able to _REWRITE_ THOSE rules!" which… "Into something _EVEN MORE **STUPID!!!**_ " ...was probably why he was so incensed about the whole thing. (Whatever the hell the kid meant by what he called ‘free will’, it was something he really _did_ take real seriously, and didn’t want anybody to mess with. For _anybody_.)

(...And adding all that ‘making the rules _even worse_ ’ stuff on top of that? No real mystery why the kid was hating on everything there, from start to finish. Stan shook his head. ...Though he did wonder how somebody got ‘classified’ as _bad_ , and what the kid’s definition of ‘bad’ actually was. It seemed to shift every other day on him, if not every other conversation. ...Heh, and the kid thought _Ford_ was inconsistent? Hell...)

Miz raised an eyebrow. "Well, mostly, whenever my powers get uppity, I go and mess with some Federation guys. Pranks here and there, just bad enough to calm my itching down. But sometimes it gets too bad, generally when I’ve got too much energy inside me that wants to go out and start _twisting_ things and I have to bleed out the excess…" She paused. "And sometimes it happens when I feel super sad--"

"--Miz, you need to stop there," Stan said abruptly, not really thinking through the implications of what she’d just said ~~(about those Federation jerks)~~ yet. "Don’t talk about that kind of stuff in front of…" He glanced over at the younger twins, who weren’t exactly listening in at the moment, but who were only a few feet away, sitting on one of the bunks. "Remember?" (He deliberately did not look over at his brother just then. ~~Last thing he needed was to add Ford to the list and get an argument out of the dragon-lady.~~ )

Miz looked over at the twins, wincing. "Right… but they’re older, and not Dipper and Mabel? I thought they’d be able to handle it?" Stan shook his head ‘no’.

"They ain’t _head shrinks_ ," Stan told her. "I told you. Just because I can handle it, don’t go thinking just anybody else can, just because. It ain’t about _age_ ," Stan told her. "It’s about what people can handle. Don’t go shovin’ that stuff in their heads," he repeated.

"Stan…" Ford said slowly, but Stan waved him off, with an, "It’s fine, Ford. I can handle talking to the demon-kids about their stuff. --Don’t _you_ feel like you’ve gotta go tryin’ to." And Stan left it at that. (He had to trust that Ford would leave the room if it got to be too much for him, or say _something_. He couldn’t look out for his brother _that_ far, _and_ handle two demons at once. Not with the kid and the dragon-lady screwing things up left and right. He could be looking to cut _some_ things off at the pass, but that didn’t mean that he could--)

Miz frowned as she looked back and forth between the older set of twins. "I don’t want to make _you_ sad just because I’m messed up…" She pulled at her dress a little. Her ice pop was already gobbled up, melting quickly from her internal heat.

"Look," Stan said, "We’re not gonna be able to handle this all tonight. --I was just tryin’ to get the kid started thinking about things," he looked over at the kid, "Which you are," Stan told the older demon. "And I figure it’s gonna take you two awhile to talk through a bunch of this stuff," Stan told them both next, "And then, y’know, come talk to me about it after _that_ , once you think you’re ready to actually do something about it, to run it all by me first. _You_ know why; we talked about this," he told the kid, for Miz’s benefit (so she could ask the kid about it later if she wanted to). Because he was helping the kid workshop his ideas, good or bad or weird or _whatever_. Getting the kid to agree to _that_ had been easier than Stan had thought it was gonna be; it had been one of the very- _first_ things he’d tried to do, and… as far as Stan was concerned, it had saved him _and_ the kids _multiple times_ so far, and counting.

Stan glanced at Miz. "But what I’m getting from all this stuff, is that you’re really on the wrong, long end of the see-saw, here," he told Miz. "Because when you’re doin’ stuff you think is ‘good’ things, you feel pretty awful until you do something you think of as ‘bad’ to ‘balance’ it out. Am I gettin’ that right?"

Miz nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It’s why I find reasons why I want something, when I want to give other people things. If I have some personal, selfish reason for wanting something, then it’s not a problem."

"Because... what, being ‘selfish’ is bad?" Stan said, confused. (Ford gave him a look.)

"Generally, that category of things is considered ‘bad’ by the vast majority of people in every dimension in existence that is out there, _yes_ ," the kid told him, with a sigh. "--Are you seeing the problem here, already?" the kid then added, almost-cheekily.

Stan suddenly connected a few dots. "Wait. Is that why you always have your own reasons for wanting to do stuff?" he asked Miz next. "Like, what you said about the washing machine -- making it to help the kids, but then ‘ _really_ ’ because you wanted it yourself?" ...Was some of this junk with the kid left over from when the kid had had problems with karma, too? The kid never seemed to do anything without a reason, and he always had a shit-ton of reasons _for_ doing anything he said he wanted to do. The kid had said that he _had_ cut himself off, disconnected from that karma system thing, _eventually_. But the triangle demon had _had_ to be stuck with this stuff in the system, long enough to know how ‘annoying’ it was. (Because for the kid, everything he didn’t like was ‘annoying’; kid didn’t differentiate all that much, other than _maybe_ toss a few adjectives in there, on top of everything, if you were lucky.) And the kid had always seemed three types of cautious to him when he was working out stuff -- _literally_ working out stuff, with those ‘probabilities of success’ of his...

Miz nodded. Ford couldn’t help but frown at her even as he glanced up at Bill, looking at him over the book that he’d been ‘reading’ while listening in on all this. The older demon hadn’t lied about any of this. ...As far as he could tell, Bill hadn’t felt that he’d left much out of his own ranting on this odd choice of subject, either. (Nothing that the demon considered important that would alter or otherwise change the nature of their understanding of the information drastically, certainly.) And if this was true, if there was some sort of penalty that _the universe itself_ inflicted upon demons for...

"...Who does this ‘Karma system’ apply to?" Ford asked Bill slowly.

And he most certainly did _not_ like the answer he got out of him, when the triangle demon turned to him and said: " _Everyone_."

And then said: "--even _ME_ , until I disconnected myself from it a LONG time ago!"

Miz added on, "I guess humans don’t feel it directly?" She leaned against Bill’s side.

"Humans don’t _usually_ feel it directly, no," Bill told her. " _No-one_ does, except demons."

Ford was staring at Bill. Something wasn’t quite… He could _tell_ Bill had just lied about _something_ there, but also… not _quite_. He’d left something out...

"Who _isn’t_ subject to it?" Ford tried next, and Bill just laughed at him and said:

"What, you want a LIST? _\--Get in line!_ " he was told by Bill, and Ford frowned at the absolute _evasiveness_ of that statement.

Miz asked her brother, "Is Ax not affected by it?"

And at _that_ , Bill hesitated.

"...Not that I’m aware of," Bill said slowly, after a long moment. (It was clear to the others that he was thinking hard.) "But I didn’t _check_ for that, at the time that I Saw it ‘in-person’ last. --Either time." And the Karma system-underpinnings were _VERY_ hard to See, let alone nail down. "The stupid frilly lizard DOES have Rules; three of them that are externally-applied to it, that it THINKS it HAS to uphold," Bill told her in far too-even tones. "And a lot MORE that it created for _itself_ OUT of those three. ...Bound itself up even _tighter_ , the stupid thing," Bill muttered. Then he added, with fake-brightness suddenly, "--Wouldn’t be surprised if the stupid thing ADDED itself into _all that_ , too! ...But probably not," Bill ended on a more sober note, then added even more darkly, "Because it will have CONSEQUENCES COMING TO IT that are a LONG TIME COMING if it _was_ …" And then Bill even waved _that_ off with a hand, saying, "And _then_ it wouldn’t be able to do its job anymore, which it is ‘required’ to do! --So probably almost-definitely not part-of and/or under-the-influence-of the ‘Karma system’, no."

There was an awkward lull in conversation as Stan and the other humans stared at the demons. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright. Like I said, you two talk about all this junk, and then come talk to me about it before ya go off doin’ anything about it. --That includes Miz not feelin’ pain from that karma penalty thing, if that’s what it is." He figured the kid would double-check that one on his own, no questions asked. "--You two need to figure out if numbing that out is gonna cause worse problems," Stan told them, "More than her feeling hungry, and what happens if she’s too ‘full’ or too ‘empty’ on her energy ‘gas tank’ stomach thing, or whatever."

"She could balance herself by doing something ‘bad’," Bill said with a shrug, but… yeah, even the kid didn’t seem to like that idea. "...And expend far more energy than she needs to in doing so. …...And then eat more again. ……...And then expend more again." Stan grimaced. --Yeah, that was the problem.

"Kid, do you think your sister _wants_ to do something ‘bad’?" Because that was the gist of it that Stan understood. Miz wanted to be good, but doing so made her literally feel terrible. And apparently her ‘energy levels’ being high -- not feeling like she was _half-starving_ , apparently -- was what was making the feeling even worse for her, that was what Stan was getting here. The more energy she had the stronger those feelings became. ...and then Stan grimaced again as he realized that _‘making herself bleed’_ probably counted as one of those ‘bad’ things. ...Except she was doing it to herself, so if she counted as a ‘bad’ person… except the kid said ‘bad’ people didn’t get ‘bonuses’ for anything, though that didn’t necessarily mean they got _nothing_ , right?… but the way the kid had talked had made it sound like ‘good’ didn’t _need_ to be offset by… except then he’d said that thing about equalizers and loops and… oh hell, this was givin’ him a headache already.

"Just, figure it out," Stan told the demon-kids a little grumpily. "You ain’t gettin’ any worse right now, at least?" Stan asked Miz. "It’s not getting _worse_ every time, this cycling thing? Or is it?"

"No. It comes and it goes. It hasn’t really gotten worse? Just annoying."

"Okay," said Stan, letting out a breath. He knew what a runaway feedback loop was. "We’ll keep doin’ what we’re doin’ for now, then. --You can keep eatin’ and usin’ up energy," Stan told her, "And me and the kid can talk you through tryin’ different things; see what makes you itch more or less or not. Whatever. --You two can keep on talkin’ in the meantime, try to figure out something more permanent that’s better. Right now, we’ll stick with what works, that isn’t hurtin’ nobody. Including _you_ ," he ended on, giving Miz a look.

"Once I get a better fix on the ratios in this dimensional set, I should be fine on the hungry and full levels." Miz told him. "That would help a lot."

"Yeah, sure," Stan told her. "Just, don’t go bumpin’ yourself too far out of whack when you’re figuring this stuff out," he warned her. "You change too much too quick… that’s a problem you might not be able to get back from." Runaway loops and spirals.

Miz nodded at that. Bill nodded at him as well.

Ford wanted to change the subject again, though he also wanted to know more about this ‘karma system’ -- Bill had said it applied to everyone… and had also implied that it was not standard that Miz was feeling the ‘karmic’ consequences of her actions as a direct penalty _to her_ \-- meaning that other people would experience it indirectly. Which… based on what Ford knew about the definition of ‘karma’, _indirect_ consequences seemed more in line with his understanding of the idea. That good and bad things he did would affect someone’s future and the events therein. ...But the idea that, perhaps, these effects were _not_ simply the natural consequences of his own choices and their casual impact rippling through the universe and people around him, but also weighed somehow by the whims of what the ‘majority’ might _think_ of his actions, were they ever asked, and _that_ somehow having some odd (probabilistic?) impact as well...

...if that was, in fact, the case, then what did that mean for demons like this Miz-’Bill’ Cipher? Why did her own actions towards _him_ seem to go largely unpunished by this system?

Not to mention... what did that mean, in how much of his _own_ life had been affected by karma over the years, over the course of the outcomes of all of what he considered to be major life events for him, and--

\-- _What_ sort of awful thing could he have _possibly_ done in this life, or the last, that would have resulted in him _being stuck with **Bill** for more than thirty years_, if indeed Ford’s suffering at the hands of the demon _were_ potentially some form of karmic retribution?

Or would Bill himself simply call what he had done to him ‘inevitable’ -- with Bill being outside of the system himself and apparently able to do as he pleased ~~with _no consequences_ but those that other people _directly_ applied in an attempt to _directly_ combat his madness?!~~ \-- and his own karmic balance merely tipping the scales only _slightly_ , one way or the other? And, if this was truly the case...

\--Could he have been stuck with Bill _playing_ with him and watching his every step for thirty- _four_ years, instead? _Forty_ years? --Fifty?

Ford stifled a shiver. ~~And he tried _very_ hard not to think about the fact that Bill had said not more than a few days ago that he could bring them all back to life and de-age them, if he so chose, and _that_ meant-- ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

Stan sighed pushed himself up from the table, clearing the table and starting the dishes. "Alright," Stan said. "Now that we’re past the _first_ of the things-first," he said, half tongue-in-cheek for the kid’s benefit, "Let’s talk about…"

And with that, he moved on to the next topic -- the main topic of the night’s discussion, really -- which he was pretty sure Ford wasn’t gonna like any better than the last two: an overview of the ‘big plan’ for tomorrow.

The younger twins both perked up at this over by the bunks, much more interested in this discussion -- which was one that they could actually both follow.

And after the initial query from Ford as to what this was all about -- and then the initial protest -- Stan actually got Ford settled out a lot faster than he’d thought he would. (Stan guessed it helped that his brother was getting tired.) It didn’t take very long to convince Ford that (1) he (Stan) would be watching Miz and their younger set as they were doing the whole ‘act’ for everybody, and _would_ jump in and handle things if need be, (2) the kid would _not_ be taking part in any of this thing at all, and (3) -- which Stan had _thought_ would be the kicker -- neither would Ford.

As it turned out, Stan didn’t even need to make a bunch of arguments there to get his brother on-board with that last one, or anything. Because after he’d said that he wanted the kid away from it all, Ford had practically _volunteered_ to be the one watching the kid for him, making sure he was staying out of trouble and keeping away from everything.

And the _really_ weird thing was… after Ford said he was going to do that? Watch the kid himself, and not be there for any of the whole thing? --The kid stopped objecting to not being there himself; he just ‘settled’ for getting to have final say on everything that they were going to finish working out that night, beforehand.

(...Had the kid really been that worried about Ford trying to shoot his sister? Stan didn’t think that the _act_ going wrong was what did it for the kid -- because Ford losing his shit and waving the gun around without firing it would be more than enough to have Miz ‘breaking character’ and hiding behind one of the younger twins, probably Lee and not Sixer, after what had happened with Sixer earlier that day, even if Ford didn’t actually fire it off at anything or anyone.) 

After Stan had shooed Ford back out to the deck again, to do more work on the roof of the cabin and the deck (to try and keep interruptions to a minimum), Stan had Miz and the twins fill the kid in on how things stood so far, as he washed up the dishes after dinner.

The three of them got the kid up to speed pretty quickly, and they all planned at things for the ‘capture’ for the next few hours, talking things out until Bill wasn’t vetoing the entire thing anymore, and (eventually) wasn’t even offering more than ‘suggestions’ on ‘flair’ (after a hell of a _lot_ of middling complaints of ‘this won’t work because--’ and ‘what are you going to do if--’, along with what was basically a pretty hefty list of ‘demands’ before he’d okay his little sister putting herself in any ‘danger’, supposedly-real or otherwise)...

...and Stan finally decided they’d talked just about everything to death, it was all gonna be fine, and it was time for bed.

So Stan sent the kids off, down to their sleeping bags belowdecks, as he opened up the porthole above what was going to be ‘his’ bunk, just for that night.

He looked out of it, to see Miz moving blankets and pillows out of the sandcastle to set up a bedding area out on the deck. Stan wasn’t too surprised; he’d literally _heard_ the kid announce, as he’d strode out the open doorway, that he _had_ decided he would sleep next to Ford that night (so that his brother wouldn’t have any more ‘annoying and incorrect’ nightmares -- at least, not ones that he could remember...), and where the hell _was_ he-- NO he was NOT sleeping UP THERE on top of the roof where he was right now, get DOWN here on deck, look Stanley is RIGHT THERE with the window open if Miz tries to eat you, stop being so STUPID, etc. etc. -- seriously, the kid and his brother had _issues_.

Miz had blushed and looked oddly excited at the idea of Bill and Ford sleeping together. Bill wasn’t sure what that was about, but he wasn’t worried about it. When he’d asked her, his sister had told him it wasn’t anything important. Just something about boats.

Ford protested the sleeping arrangement _again_ , but Bill leveled a glare at him and said, "I am NOT handling you having STUPID dreams with not-me IN them, and COMING UP _or_ OUT HERE tomorrow morning and GRABBING at me. AGAIN! --You are sleeping UP here, NEXT to me, there IS no OR ELSE, you are just going to DO it, I am NOT breaking the agreement because of YOU. --Stanley, _tell him to do the thing_ ," Bill complained out at Stan next, directing it back towards the porthole.

"I don’t need--" Ford stopped for a moment and reevaluated his argument quickly at the look he was getting from his brother through the window. "--I fell asleep next to _you_ in the basement on that couch, without issue!" he tried next.

"Ford, when you fall asleep next to the kid, you sleep like the dead. It ain’t gonna kill you to try it out one more time, and figure out if this is really a thing or not."

"Stanley, you can’t _possibly_ think--"

"Look, the kid’s offering to help, and the dragon lady don’t like eatin’ heads. You got a metal plate in there that’ll keep just about anybody out," if the kid didn’t kill them first for the offense. "Pretty sure you’re as safe out there as I am in here," Stan told him, then sighed and said, "But I’m right here, and I’ll grab a chair and come out there to watch you both sleep again if I have to, until morning. And, y’know, make sure the scary dragon lady stays in her sandcastle lair. If you want me to." Not like he couldn’t sleep through ‘til the afternoon when the school let out, if he had to, once Ford was awake again.

"She’s not _staying_ in her ‘sandcastle lair’," Ford began, because from the looks of things, she was planning on sleeping _right at Bill’s other side_. Then Ford shook himself, trying to refocus on what was _important_ , because, "That isn’t the issue, here--" Ford began.

"Ford, you said you couldn’t _breathe_ last night, because you had some kinda nightmare, that you needed the _kid_ to help you wake up out of," Stan said. "Were you _lyin’_ to me about that?" ...Yeah, no. No, he wasn’t. Not from the look Ford was avoiding giving him, he wasn’t. Damnit. He’d _really_ been hoping he’d misunderstood him before. "--Kid, is this gonna help him?" Stan asked the older demon next.

"It will help... you. Because it will keep _him_ from having nightmares that have him thinking that he can’t breathe," the kid said to Stan shortly, even though he didn’t sound too pleased at any of that.

\--Yeah, no. Stan _wasn’t_ risking his brother passing out -- or _worse_ \-- if whatever this thing was happened again, and his brother couldn’t get to the kid in time this time. So Stan decided that he was gonna out-stubborn his brother on this one, and he stubbornly stood his ground. "--Ford, if this is gonna help you, then just _do_ it."

Ford clenched his jaw and his fists and looked away. --That _wasn’t_ the point, or the problem. This _hadn’t_ been an issue before. Something had _changed_ , and now Bill was _taking advantage_ of the situation, to-- to--

...Ford wasn’t quite sure _how_ this might be advantageous to Bill yet, but the point still stood. He had _no reason_ to be having these kinds of nightmares; certainly, not to this degree. ~~He hadn’t had nightmares _this_ bad since--~~

"I’ll be _fine--_ " Ford began.

"It’s all ready, now!" Miz chirped out, of the blanket- and pillow-pile nest that she’d finished setting up for the three of them.

Ford turned around and glared at Miz, not trusting her nearby while he was sleeping.

The younger demon sighed and scooted over a little, still close enough to be within sight but far enough that she wasn’t anywhere close to touching Ford. She was snuggling Iseblonker to her chest, pouting. She flopped down on the fluffy blankets, looking like she wanted to complain at Ford’s hostile look, but held herself back and just crawled under the pillows, sliding most of herself under a large pillow with an image of some anime character on it, with just part of her leg sticking out from beneath the pile.

Stan noted her avoidant behavior, and tried to remind himself to give her a headpat for that tomorrow morning -- not engaging the fight Ford was trying to pull, probably as an excuse to get out of _not suffocating_ in his sleep. (...Stan also recognized that the pillow she’d just tunneled under was one of those ‘anime’ style ones, though didn’t know what show it was from. And… Stan blinked. Was the image printed on the pillow a half-naked man? He shook his head and turned away from the porthole. Yeah, no. Not gonna ask.)

"I’m goin’ to bed," Stan told them all. "Either fall asleep out there with the kid, or give up and come in here and take the other bunk," Stan told his brother.

"...That’s an option?" Stan heard Ford say, in tones of confusion -- like he couldn’t understand why no-one had told him this before. Stan _also_ heard Bill say next, "I am NOT putting up with you mentally attacking yourself AGAIN and blaming it on me. AGAIN. _SO LIE DOWN ALREADY._ "

...Ford ended up in the cabin. (Stan rolled his eyes at this.)

"If you die from not-breathing from this, I am tellin’ the kids I said ‘I told you so’," Stan told him grumpily, as he pulled up the covers, and settled himself into his own bunk bed.

Ford grumbled wordlessly at him, taking off his glasses to set them down on the nearby table, and rolling over in his bunk. -- _It was likely situational_ , Ford told himself, _A one-time thing_. They were in another dimension, in unfamiliar surroundings, and he’d been having to interact with both Bill _and_ another highly-dangerous demon on a regular basis -- neither of which he could shoot at in self-defense without risking the safety of the niblings’ lives, being held hostage. --In a more familiar boat-like setting, with only the _one_ demon nearby, or the better air from being up on deck, with at least one porthole window open… _surely_ this would not be a problem tonight.

~~And even if it was…~~

Ford was left blinking as the lights went out suddenly, and he realized how dark it was out just then -- both inside, and outside, of the cabin.

"Stan…" Ford said quietly.

"Go to sleep, Ford," was what he heard back, and a rolling-away and shifting of covers.

Ford forced himself to pull in a slow breath, as he tried to settle down in place. ...It was difficult, because he still felt keyed up and _very_ much on a hair-trigger, after everything that had happened that day. The sounds weren’t quite right, as a start, not what he was used to hearing, since they weren’t actually out at sea _or_ at a proper port. And it didn’t help either, that his mind was still going in circles after what had happened earlier, when...

Ford tried to relax enough that he could drift off to sleep, while his mind kept crunching away at all the things that had been bothering him. He couldn’t help it, as his mind kept circling around the problem of the demons, of three days and their younger selves and everything else that had been going on and going so horribly wrong ever since they’d arrived here. And what one particular triangle demon had done today -- or rather, yesterday...

\---

_"I can make time not a problem. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to rush…?" Bill said._

_"But… But **how?** " the teacher asked next, ~~like a supplicant asking for--~~ and Ford felt his hackles rise ~~because~~_ ~~that _was the_ next thing _that went wrong_~~ _...._

_Bill was still looking over at Stan. "I can control time," he said simply ~~which just had Ford fighting down a shudder, because in the Fearamid--~~. Stan was staring back at Bill intensely, in a way that wasn’t exactly leaving Ford feeling any better about--_

_Mr. Harman looked very confused, and also awed. "Y-you can--" There was a pause, and Ford realized that the man was looking down at his six-fingered hands. And when the teacher’s eyes went wide and he said, "You’re from--"_

_"--an alternate dimension’s future,_ not _the future of this one," Ford told the man quickly. He only realized how he may have just traded one problem for another far worse one, only after he saw the man’s head lift. And at the new intensity of the feverish gleam in the man’s eyes, the grin that got just a bit wider..._

_Ford fought the urge to take a step backwards._

_"Time isn’t a problem…" the man said in wonder, staring at Ford. But then he slowly began to frown. "...But you’re old." He said it almost dejectedly, and with an undercurrent of stress in his tone that..._

_Ford heard his brother let out a snort, and Ford couldn’t help but give him a glare. --This was a serious situation! Did Stan not _realize_ that--_

_"Kid," Stan said next, "There’s no way the teach here is gonna be able to teach class today. You got any time-related ideas for how to handle that?" Stan said, clearly playing off of what Bill had just said. But before Bill could actually say anything one way or the other, his brother added, "Other than doing the day over again?"_

_"Not with two demons here," Ford informed him tersely. "Not easily." Ford severely doubted that rolling back time would do them any good here; the other demon would hardly want to go along with it, herself._

_"I can_ handle _nonlinear time loops," Bill said to Stan, while sending Ford a glare. "My sister hasn’t Looked yet, so it’s_ more _than doable."_

_"--Yes," the teacher said quickly, swiveling his head between them. "Do the day over again -- I’ll get it right this time, I swear!" he said desperately to the demon next, straining to lean forward towards him, despite Stan’s hold. "I_ know _I will! I just--"_

_"Okay, no," said Stan, still holding onto the knowledge-addicted teacher, but without trying to physically pull him back away from Bill again. "Not a straight-up redo. We aren’t doing the_ exact same thing _again," Stan said next to the man, almost soothingly, "Because that’d have those blackboards all erased on you again. Right? --Kid, what’s your idea," Stan said next. "This is your screw-up, gettin’ this guy all wound up this far. I’m open to ideas from you on how to fix this one yourself."_

_Bill grimaced. (He didn’t protest; he_ grimaced _.) "He needs more time, yes? There are several ways to do it," Bill said next, then paused. "What is the thing that you would have_ wanted _him to do yesterday, that he did not do?" Bill…_ asked _Stanley._

_Ford stared._

_"Go home, see his family, eat dinner, and get a decent night’s sleep, so that he can teach his classes today," was what Stan said to the demon promptly._

_Bill turned away from Stan, and turned to face the teacher instead._

_"Did you fall asleep yesterday, after Stanley left?" Bill asked him._

_"--I’m sorry," the teacher said immediately._

_Ford watched as Bill grimaced slightly in pure _irritation_ , then smoothed it away. "Don’t be sorry. Just ANSWER THE QUESTION."_

_"I-- I--" the teacher stammered, and Ford grimaced and started to move forward._

_"Ford," Stan said quietly, and he stopped for a moment, to stare at Stan. Because why--_

_"WHEN did you fall asleep, and WHEN did you wake up," Bill said again, with a terrible intensity, staring the man right in the eyes._

_"--I don’t know when I fell asleep," the man said to Bill, "I only know when I woke up." He looked and sounded almost mesmerized, as Bill stared slitted cat-eyes at him, and he stared at Bill right back._

_"WHEN did you wake up," Bill repeated, the exact same way as he had said it before. Ford shivered._

_"Seven-forty-nine P.M.," the man said distantly. "I saw the clock in the teacher’s lounge when I woke up…"_

_Bill leaned back away from him, breaking eye contact, and the man drooped slightly in place for a moment._

_"Got a plan?" Stan said next. "Talk me through it, first."_

_"Stan--"_

_"--I want to hear what the kid’s got to say, Ford," Stan interrupted him, sending him a look. "Let the kid talk."_

_Ford gritted his teeth. This was_ not _\--_

_But Ford saw the look his brother was giving him. And he kept quiet (for the moment)._

_And the silence drew out for almost a minute._

_"--We leave the school grounds," Bill said, finally. Abruptly. Quickly. "You give me permission to toss up a ‘perception filter’ so that no-one stops us leaving. We walk someplace out of the way, out of sight. I cancel the ‘filter’ and jump us back in time, to seven-p.m yesterday, local-time. I put up a new ‘perception filter’. We walk back to_ his _house," Bill pointed at the teacher. "And we go inside and do all--"_

_"--No, no, that won’t work," the teacher said, shaking his head back and forth, and Ford startled and stared at him, stunned. "That won’t--"_

_"Hey, HEY!!" Bill said, refocusing on the teacher and snapping his fingers several times in his face, rather rudely. "Look at me! HEY! -- ****_ **LOOK AT ME, __** _" Bill intoned, finally getting the teacher’s attention back on him again -- but_ only _after physically grabbing his chin and--_

_Ford winced, feeling alarmed. --Was the man_ stupid?! _Why wasn’t he_ listening _to--_

_And then Ford tensed in place as he realized what he’d just been thinking._

_And when he glanced over at Stan, feeling a bit ~~paranoid at his thoughts potentially having been heard by Bill~~ guilty that he’d fallen so completely and abruptly into old ~~and terrible~~ habits, he realized that his brother wasn’t looking at Bill, or even the teacher, as Bill more or less berated him and otherwise talked down to the grown man like a child. No, Stan was watching _him _. What_ he _was doing. And..._

_Ford pulled in a slow breath, and looked away. He hoped that his thoughts hadn’t been visible on his face. ...At least Stanley didn’t say anything. At least he didn’t seem to understand it all yet, even being visibly confronted with... Well, of course he wouldn’t, couldn’t understand it. Of course not. ~~(Not yet.)~~_

_"--then you can ARGUE with me about it all AFTER we’re all running on **spare** time, instead," Bill told him, "Unless you WANT me to NOT HELP YOU again." ...Ah, yes. And now came the threats. ‘Do what I want, or else.’ Classic Bill, with all the subtlety of an already-swinging sledgehammer._

_"No! No! I--" the teacher said, rather predictably._

_"--Then DON’T ARGUE WITH ME when I TELL you that I WILL do something to FIX whatever_ little _‘time problem’ that you THINK you have," Bill ended, then looked up to Stan. "We need to go NOW. Before first class; I DON’T want to have to overlap things too much."_

_What happened next left Ford feeling_ very _off-balance and wrong._

_"Kid, tell the guy that I know what I’m talking about," Stan said._

_Bill gave Stan a long unreadable look._

_"Go on," Stan said. "Tell him that he should listen to me."_

_And Bill slowly turned back towards the teacher._

_And Bill said, "You should listen to Stanley. He knows what he’s talking about…... when he says things about food and sleep." Bill said it slowly, and he said it while looking at Stanley, instead of the teacher._

_"And…" Stan prompted Bill, and Ford looked between the two of them in growing worry._

_"And…" Bill began, "He… is going to take you home. And... then--"_

_"--No," said the teacher, interrupting Bill_ again _. "I need to--"_

_Bill gripped the teacher’s chin even more tightly and looked him in the eyes. "Stanley knows what he is talking about when he says things like ‘you need food’ and ‘you need sleep’," Bill repeated, in a more normal speech pattern for him._

_"I tell the kid when he needs a break, and he listens to me," Stan said next._

_"He-- you do?" the teacher said, going from protesting to confused in the blink of an eye._

_"Stanley makes sure I know when it is mealtime, to eat at mealtimes. ...because eating is a necessary thing for human bodies to function properly ...with the way this dimension is currently set up." (Ford winced at everything that Bill_ could _have been saying, but was leaving out there -- and the demon was clearly holding back hard on not including any of what Ford_ knew _Bill wanted to say, for some reason, which was… highly unusual for him, especially given the circumstances.) "Sleep is also important."_

_"Tell him I’ll make sure he gets what he wants here, kid," Stan said next, to Ford’s utter dismay._

_"You will do what Stanley tells you to do," Bill said. "He will give you what you want."_

_And hearing that made Ford sick, and not just because of what it implied._

_It made him feel sick, because Bill clearly did not think that was the case._

_And yet when Bill said it, it almost didn’t sound like a lie._

_\---_

_What happened next left Ford feeling even_ more _off-balance and wrong._

_Stan had not-quite dragged a worried and frazzled looking Mr. Harman out of the school, around the corner, and into a dark alleyway. Bill and Ford had followed them._

_No-one had seen them leave. They’d made eye-contact with no-one in the school. The students had all seemed to turn away from them as they went -- not looking through them, but their gazes and bodies_ literally turning away from them _\-- the student populace parting in front of them like the Red Sea as their little group moved down the hallway, straight-on through them._

_And, once they were in that alleyway, out of the way of everything and everyone, Bill had simply stood there and cast some sort of spell. He’d just…. braced his feet slightly farther apart than he usually stood, lifted his hands up and moved his fingers into a triangular formation in front of his chest, closed his eyes, and..._

_Bill had muttered under his breath for almost an entire minute, nearly subaudally. Nothing that Ford had been able to quite catch -- which was likely rather the point._

_And then the sun went out._

_...Not quite_ that _literally. But one moment the sun had been shining overhead, and the next… it was rather dark outside._

_Bill had slumped a little in place after that, looking abruptly tired. And then, as Ford had watched, the triangle demon had waved a hand overhead almost irritably, making some sort of clicking noise as he did so, and then started striding forward, almost stiff-legged, out of the alleyway._

_"_ Try _and keep up," Bill had said, not looking back at any of them as he went. (And from the line of Bill’s shoulders, he was irritated in the extreme.)_

_Ford almost protested Bill’s ‘order’, but he held back after he glanced at his brother, quite ready to castigate_ him _for letting the demon take the lead… and saw how very angry Stan looked._

_Ford’s breath caught._

_It was gone in the next moment -- that steely-eyed glare, that clenched jaw -- but Ford saw it._

_Stan wasn’t… nearly as okay with the situation as he’d been acting._

_And Ford hadn’t realized this. Not really. Not until now. But… that didn’t quite make any sense either. Because_ why _hadn’t Stan said--_

_"Kid, slow down," Stan called out, startling Ford out of his thoughts because_ Stan was not sounding angry _, and not trying to hurry, either. Stan was just walking forward at a normal pace as he helped the teacher along. "We’ve got time. Yeah?"_

_Ford followed after Stan, and watched what happened next, and... he realized something: Stan hadn’t let Bill hurry him along. He hadn’t let Bill set the pace._

_Stan had outright ordered Bill to slow down, and Bill? --Bill had looked over his shoulder at Stan when Stan had complained at him about his set pace, and… slowed down. He’d slowed down his pace. And come to almost a complete stop. Waiting for Stan to catch up to him._

_Ford watched this, as he followed the three of them, at not two short paces behind, as they all continued walking on down the street, towards Mr. Harman’s house._

_...This wasn’t just about Bill listening to Stanley or not. Not anymore. (If it ever had been.) There was something more going on here that Ford simply didn’t understand._

_Stan was planning something. Some sort of… scheme?... having to do with Bill. And Ford was completely lost now, not just at a loss at his brother’s ongoing nonsensical behavior. Because this clearly_ wasn’t _just about getting Bill to not kill the kids, if it ever had been. Not anymore. --Not from what he’d seen out of the roof a few short nights ago. Not with what had happened out on the boardwalk. And not from what he’d just seen here. --Had Stan been_ lying _to him, this entire time? ...Did_ Bill _know what Stanley was trying to do? Or had even Bill been completely fooled somehow. Ford shuddered at the very thought. --What_ was _his brother planning? He’d talked of… twisting Bill up inside, of Bill not telling him ‘no’, but… this was a_ far _cry from simply a lack of ‘no’. This looked far more like a ‘yes’, to him. And not just one ‘yes’; this looked far more like… it was almost..._

_\--_ How _had Stan managed this? They were in another dimension, for Axolotl’s sake! They were divorced from the rest of the Zodiac, they had_ no _fallbacks or safety net to speak of, they were_ completely _at Bill’s mercy, subject to his every whim in order to get back home again -- if Bill would even_ let _them do so, when he had every reason in the world_ not _to -- and yet… Stan wasn’t worried. And while Bill might not be following along at Stan’s heels, he_ was _taking outright_ orders _and commands from him. --And not just listening to them and then laughing them off and… letting Stan get away with having said it to him by not killing him. Oh, no. Bill was actually doing what Stan explicitly told him he wanted him to do. --And not just that, but even largely without complaint. The former was mind-blowing enough, but the_ latter? _Ludicrous! Did Stan have ANY idea--?!_

_No. No, Stan couldn’t_ possibly _. If he had, he would be being far more careful about it. That he_ wasn’t _being more careful about any of this spoke volumes, and all the bad kind. Ford almost wanted to grab his brother, tell him to stop-- but he couldn’t._

_Because if Bill didn’t know what Stan was trying to do… if he didn’t actually realize… If there was even some small chance that_ whatever _Stan was trying to do ~~to keep Bill in line and from killing or torturing them all for all eternity~~ was _actually working _, even in some small mean respect… then Ford wasn’t about to say anything that might clue Bill in to that possibility._

_Ford still couldn’t believe that this was truly what was happening, though. He couldn’t imagine Bill taking commands, even though he’d_ seen _it happening, right in front of him... but that didn’t mean that Bill_ wouldn’t _, in order to continue playing along to some long game he had going._

_...After all, Stan (and Bill) had indicated on multiple occasions now that Bill had only taken the Deal he’d had with_ him _in order to get out of the Nightmare Realm eventually. If Bill had been willing to do something he considered so objectionable_ then _, to, in essence, give up his own free will for an unspecified period of time in order to get something that he wanted..._

_...then the question still remained: what_ was _it that Bill wanted so very badly now, that he would not only put up with this behavior from Stan, but actively_ play along _with it?_

_That was hardly the worst of it, though. The real problem was, when Ford saw Bill defer to Stanley, looking to him for an opinion and actively asking for one… it wasn’t a lie. Ford was sure of that, now. After what had just happened, it was clear now that..._

_...Bill had actually wanted to know. He’d wanted to know what Stan thought, and he’d wanted to take that into account, to run with it. ~~And it hadn’t been the first time this had happened, either.~~ And that was--_

_Ford shook himself and felt a chill go down his spine as they came up on Mr. Harman’s home. Because..._

_They didn’t stop. They just walked up to the door._

_And they all went inside._

_And they more or less tried to hand the man over to his wife and very young son, and the man didn’t want to--_

_And then Bill talked to him for awhile, and talked him down._

_For the moment, at least, by explaining what he planned on doing._

_\--except then Stan got his two cents in and corrected him next._

_At which point, Ford couldn’t take it anymore._

_"--The problem he’s worried about isn’t time to work, it’s_ aging _," Ford ground out at them all, because neither Bill nor Stan seemed to be getting the point, here! "Giving him some sort of workspace to work within for however many additional hours a day, the way you are talking about it, will simply age him prematurely. --He _won’t_ get any more done," Ford told them all. "He’ll simply _die _a few years earlier, relative to the rest of the people in this dimension!"_

_Stan gave him a long look. "...Okay." He turned to Mr. Harman and then glanced at Bill. The demon rolled his eyes, looking exasperated. "I can make it so he doesn’t age while he’s in there," Bill said. "And--"_

_"--_ that **still** doesn’t solve anything! _" Ford protested angrily, because had his brother_ really _missed the point of this whole excursion that completely?! "That_ won’t _stop him from working and working until he drops,_ or _\--"_

_"--Have any of you had dinner yet?" Mrs. Harman interrupted casually, bouncing her child on her hip. And Ford stopped in the middle of his tirade to look at her, blinking, rather derailed by her question._

_"Ford," Stan said, "We can talk out the details downstairs later. --Teach," Stan said next, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "Ford’s worked with the kid before. You can trust him to come up with a_ really _good workspace for you, no time problems or nothin’. And the kid will toss up a copy of those equations again before we go; no worries," Stan said, as Ford clenched his jaw at that one. "Kid’s got a great memory. You can pick up on that stuff again later." Ford nearly protested again, but stopped at the warning glare he received from his brother, though only barely._

_"I…" Mr. Harman began._

_"--And no, we haven’t had dinner yet," Stan ~~flat-out lied~~ told Mrs. Harman with a smile, "And neither has this guy." Ford looked on as he clapped that hand on the man’s shoulder again, then pushed him forward towards his wife and kid. "Maybe ask him about his day? He’s had a doozy," Stan said with a grin._

_"But…" Mr. Harman said._

_"Me, my brother, and the kid’ll go down to the basement and handle things for ya there, don’t you worry," Stan told the Harmans. "_ You _go off and get some food in you, spend some time with your family. Talk with your wife, and get a good night’s sleep," Stan said like he had a right to be ordering a grown man around like a child. "You do all that? And everything will be all ready for you down there in the morning." (And Ford wasn’t the only one who caught the warning there.)_

_Mrs. Harman smiled and took her husband’s hand. "Come on, John. I made lamb roast tonight. Your favorite!"_

_"I… well…" Mr. Harman looked to Bill, who crossed his arms and gave him an unreadable look._

_"Bill, tell him to do what I just said, or else," Stan said without looking over at the demon or away from Mr. Harman, just as good-naturedly as before._

_"Do what he just said or else," Bill repeated verbatim, not changing his tone, look, or stance._

_"Ah…" The teacher glanced around at them all one more time, looking a bit lost, then (quite meekly) said, "Yes, dear," to his wife, and followed her into the kitchen._

_As soon as they’d left the room, Stan dropped the smile._

_"Basement. Now." was all Stan said, as he turned and glared down at the kid._

_Ford blinked._

_...And that was how they all ended up down in the basement of Mr. Harman’s house._

_And then… Then, Stan_ actually listened to him _for once._

_Though, oddly, Stan insisted that Bill eat some crackers and get some sleep for a few hours before starting work on ‘fixing up’ that basement space to_ his _(read:_ Ford’s _) specifications._

_...Which was how Ford found himself -- after a quick ‘early lunch’ of crackers and more canned beans (also pulled from Bill’s hat) -- sitting next to his brother on an old ratty couch in their old physics teacher’s dimensional counterpart’s basement, while watching the triangle demon sleeping on the floor and his brother dozing off on his shoulder._

_Stuck in a ‘nonlinear time loop’._

_While himself, Stan, Bill, were_ also _on the boat, and Mr. Harman was also still at school..._

_....completely violating everything that Ford knew about time travel from the niblings talk of the time-tape they’d used. It wasn’t consistent with anything Ford knew from his own time in the Do-Over Dimension, either._

_They hadn’t ‘replaced’ their earlier selves along the same portion of their timeline, and Bill hadn’t completely rolled back time in this dimension. He’d quite literally_ jumped _them all back in time, to exist at the same time as their earlier selves, with their earlier selves being none the wiser._

_It was more like their travel to_ this _dimension had been, except without the glowing portal to_ fall _through, and Ford had a terrible urge to attempt to leave the premises and try to create some sort of time paradox._

_...except of course he couldn’t, because Stan had, had Bill put up some sort of rather unobtrusive (to the demons ‘in the past’) and not easily Seen ‘safety net’, to keep himself and the Harmans in the house for the next several hours, until they were all past the ‘time of overlap’, as it were._

_Bill and Stan were apparently the exception to that ‘rule’, but neither of_ them _were planning on going anywhere._

_It left Ford’s head spinning, regardless._

_Because it was impossible. Bill couldn’t do this. It was impossible._

_...if Bill was actually a demon._

_A ‘demon from the outside’ couldn’t have time loop back on them. They wouldn’t be able to respond to their past and future selves in any coherent way. Not as far as Ford had ever heard. From what he’d heard, anyone who had ever tried to do something like that to one of them..._

_....well, it just didn’t work. There was only one of any demon, ever. Their names were unique, and never used by others, and there was only one consistent, personal timeline for each of them. Summoning a demon across dimensions simply wouldn’t work, otherwise. And once a demon was summoned into a dimension, at a point along that particular timeline… forward in that dimension’s timeline meant summoning that demon when they were ‘older’. Demons didn’t, couldn’t simply ‘bounce around’ a timeline in any order that they pleased. From what he knew from his time with Jheselbraum, the Axolotl kept that from happening, kept them from doing so. (It was one of the reasons Ford had thought that all dimensions had had their time synchronized to each other before their trip to this one in order to rescue the kids; why Bill saying that he could _select_ any time at their point of entry had been so unexpected to hear.)_

_So if, after they were past that overlap in time again and past any possibility of causing any paradoxes by potentially running into their past selves, Ford saw this dimension’s set of their younger counterparts and ‘Sixer’ and ‘Lee’_ weren’t _aware of their having been gone… if the two of them remembered the very same events as they did, as had occurred earlier that morning... and if they_ didn’t _wonder outright where the three of them -- Ford, Stan, and Bill -- had been upon their waking, because they’d not been missing from the boat ~~and Bill had been talking and acting as if that was going to be the case~~..._

_...then Bill wasn’t_ actually _a ‘demon from the outside’. Not a real demon. Not like the rest of them._

_And Ford didn’t know what to do with that knowledge._

_He’d largely been bluffing on the deck of the boat, when he’d said what he’d said to Bill before. About it perhaps being just a title. Challenging Bill on it. He’d been trying to act and react a little differently, as he’d told Stan he would, trying to put Bill even a_ little _off-balance..._

_...But if Bill wasn’t really a demon, then what did that mean?_

_And what_ was _he, really?_

_~~(...A person?)~~ _

_~~(...A person like~~ _ ~~them?~~ _~~\--Hardly.)~~ _

_~~(And if Bill wasn’t a demon, what did that make his so-called ‘sister’, as well?)~~ _

_And what did it mean that Bill had just helped get Stanley everything that he’d asked for?_

_Stan had said that he’d wanted Mr. Harman to leave the school last night, go home, see his family, eat dinner, get a good night’s sleep, and (presumably) make it back to the school tomorrow in time to teach all of his classes._

_And Bill had outright delivered on the first three of those things, strictly enabled the fourth and fifth, and was presumably going to help Stan make certain that he got back to school the next day on time and without issue for the sixth of those to occur._

_And_ that _was simply..._

_Ford stared at the ceiling, feeling tired as anything. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and tried to tell himself that, at least in some small measure, perhaps everything would be all right._

_Because Stan_ had _listened to him, for once, for the first time since Bill had been back. Stan was going to have Bill outfit the basement with a magical device that would act as both a time accelerator_ and _a time freeze, in a sense. When it was activated, one second would stretch out to an eight-hour period, though it could be deactivated early. It could only be used twice in one twenty-four hour period -- as in, taking into account the last two times it was activated prior. The magic spell would encompass the entire basement; the device itself would not be able to be moved, and would be made as tamper-proof as possible, but any tampering with the device (to try and see how it worked or to attempt to reproduce it) would break it. The device would only work if activated by Mr. or Mrs. Harman, and the device would only work if Bill, Stanley, Stanford, Mr. Harman, Mrs. Harman, or any children the Harmans might have, were the only ones in the room; if anyone else was in the room, it wouldn’t set off the spell._

_Ford had wanted it not to be misused or over-used. Stan had wanted it to be a one-off, and something that couldn’t be used by other people, because then the time could be ‘sold off’ or somebody might have a reason to steal it. But he’d also made it clear that he didn’t want the teacher to be working down here alone; he’d wanted his family to be able to be down here with him._

_Another limiting factor -- which Bill had brought up -- was food, drink, and the like. Bill was planning on building in a few localized ‘rules’ that the spell would enact, that would keep anyone down there from aging, needing to use the facilities, and needing to breathe, and the air mix would be refreshed right before the spell came down so that they wouldn’t immediately suffocate on carbon dioxide. However, anyone down there_ would _still need to eat and drink to keep their energy levels up; that had been something that Stan had pushed for, and somehow managed to convince Bill was necessary, too._

_...And the part that Ford was hoping to convince his brother out of following through with, was Bill making a copy of all the prior equations into a notebook for the teacher; and Bill giving the man a way to contact him across dimensions, in case something happened and either the spell in the basement stopped working, or he thought he needed to ask Bill questions about something._

_And the reason Stan had gone with both of those? Was that once Bill had seemed to understand what Stan was saying about having a ‘release valve, just in case’, Bill had been (thoroughly annoyed but) adamant that that meant having to give the man_ some _way to contact him, in case he had questions or if something went wrong._

_Stan was sure that the man was never going to get over what he’d thought he’d lost on those blackboards, unless they gave him a straight-up copy of what had actually been there -- that he’d just build it up into some great thing inside his head that would drive him crazy forever. Ford had a sinking feeling that his brother was right in some respect -- that it could become some sort of white whale for him -- but that there had to be a better way, even if he himself couldn’t think of an alternative. Ford had seen what that knowledge had done to the man, and so had Stan, and yet..._

_Bill had offered to give the man something completely different to think about instead, but Stan had shot down that idea so fast that it had made Ford’s head spin. Stan had stated that doing that would just make things worse, because then the guy would just have_ two _things to maybe go a little crazy over, and that ‘the kid’ had already done enough damage to the guy for one day. (And Ford could hardly disagree.)_

_The possibility of more contact with Bill, though… Ford hadn’t liked that idea at all. And Stan clearly did not know what he was talking about, because_ his _reasoning had been… ‘C’mon, Ford. He won’t actually call the kid that much. Just knowing he can is gonna be enough. Knowing he_ can’t _, or thinkin’ that he’s gotta prove something to the kid to keep talking to him, is just gonna drive him crazy too. He’ll practically kidnap the kid while he’s here, and go crazy again once we all leave. It’s gotta be ‘no strings attached’, or it just won’t work.‘_

_Stan had used similar reasoning for his open-ended idea of telling the teacher that he could talk to Bill about_ life extending _ideas. Potentially moving to other dimensions or other planets, where he could keep on working after being or becoming younger again; medical treatments; getting de-aged completely -- Stan was planning on tossing several Bill-originated ideas at the man’s head, and letting it go at that. ‘Taking the pressure completely off.’ Because Ford had been fool enough to explain that half the problem was_ dying _before everything he might want to understand and know and work out the math and theory for was done._

_The worst part was, Ford couldn’t put into words_ why _he thought it wouldn’t be enough. It didn’t seem right, and yet… Stan had put significant thought into it, he’d gotten Bill on board with everything -- grudgingly, in many instances -- and he’d argued Ford to a standstill. He’d listened to him. He’d included everything Ford could possibly think of, even if Ford didn’t agree or believe that what Stan thought was a solution was actually going to_ work _to solve what he thought it was going to solve._

_Ford couldn’t say his brother wasn’t trying. But he was leaning far, far too heavily on Bill for all of this. And none of it was any real solution; it was just a stopgap measure at best._

_~~And the saddest part of the whole thing was… the man was already better off than any other individual that Ford had seen have an encounter with Bill like that, and… well, they never survived unscathed by any means of the word. But this John Harman was at present, doing~~ _ ~~far _better than..._~~

_It was a depressing thought._

_~~And Ford really did not want to see Stanley fail at this.~~ _

_...Really, Ford couldn’t believe he’d been forced to be a part of this. To be a part and party to this._

_He also worried about how the younger him was doing, left alone with the other demon…_

_...twelve hours later in time._

\---

...No, Ford did not like _any_ part of what had been happening here. Not in this dimension. ~~And certainly not in the last one.~~

Bill had woken up later, and put in a solid eight hours of work, doing what he’d said he was going to do. And Stan had done what _he’d_ said he was going to do. And they’d gotten a dead-tired Bill, and a still-frazzled (but fed and watered with two meals in him) physics teacher back to the school again -- _after_ said teacher had _immediately_ taken two of those one-second shifts in the basement that morning right after finishing breakfast.

...with no-one on the room with him for that first-shift, and his wife in the room with him for the second-shift. Because Stan had apparently saw fit to tell the husband that he was _required_ to spend the second eight-hours sleeping with his wife in there, if he spent the first eight hours looking over those equations in the notebook Bill had oh-so-helpfully provided.

The man had seemed so focused on the notebook, that apparently it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask to drag Bill into the room with him for that first-shift. It certainly hadn’t occurred to him after the second, as they both came out and Stan handed the lady’s child back to her almost immediately, with the door to the basement closing and then reopening again within seconds.

They’d all said good-bye to a smiling wife and her half-asleep child, and escorted that harried-looking teacher back to the school, along with Bill...

...and Stan had then turned around and immediately carted Ford off to go run errands and the like, despite the fact that, unlike his brother, Ford had barely gotten any sleep at all down in the basement during that entire unholy Bill-instigated mess.

Frankly, Ford was starting to think there was something wrong with this dimension. He hadn’t felt this tired on this much sleep since he could remember. --Really, he had never felt this tired, period. The last few nights, he felt barely capable of staying up for more than eighteen hours straight without practically collapsing, and he was starting to worry if there was more wrong in this dimension here than potentially something drastically deficient in his diet ~~despite Stan and the niblings seeming to, by all accounts, have suffered no issues with own their general health and liveliness themselves~~.

Something wrong like his other, younger self.

\--Yes, they were in another dimension. Yes, this was one that had apparently been created without any influence by Bill. ...And, yes, Bill himself had stated that the dimension was all but the same as their own, the one they’d just left to come there.

Stan seemed completely at ease, and was fitting right in.

Ford felt like someone had dropped him down a rabbit hole at some point, and then tied it into the bottomless pit, with no light at the end of the beginning of the tunnel and no apparent escape.

He didn’t understand what was happening here, and Stanley simply didn’t seem to care. And the hits just kept on coming, and Ford didn’t have the time or space or room to breathe to deal with _any_ of them.

\--Things didn’t _feel_ right, at all. Nothing made sense. He knew… just, _knew_ … that there was something desperately wrong with this place, with this _dimension_. But he couldn’t _explain_ any of it; Ford simply couldn’t find the words for it. Things just weren’t matching up to the childhood that Ford remembered. Ford couldn’t believe that, that other self who was _supposed_ to be him was actually acting anything like him at all. But Stan didn’t seem to find anything odd with it. None of it. None.

~~And Ford couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was slowly going insane.~~

~~_Stan_ had been the one with memory problems, not _him_.~~

And the one thing -- the _one thing_ \-- that was just **screaming** for some sort of answer, was the one thing that Stan seemed completely resolute in out-and-out **ignoring** to the very best of his ability.

The science fair project.

It had broken, that younger Stan apparently _hadn’t_ been a part of it, and… Ford just _couldn’t_ understand why Stanley wasn’t out and out _screaming_ that from the rooftops. Some kind of ‘I told you so!’ nonsense that would have him grinding his teeth and taking it.

It should have been a vindication for him. Stan had said he hadn’t broken the project, and that _whatever_ he had done had been an accident. And if what had happened here was in any way reflected in what had happened back in their own dimension, then...

Ford pulled in a deep breath and rolled over onto his other side in his bunk, putting his back to Stanley.

But Stan… Stan was refusing to talk about it. He wasn’t looking into it; he didn’t seem at all concerned about what had happened, beyond making sure that neither of the younger thems went hungry or were too cold or too warm or doing badly at school...

...His own younger self had been the one to be kicked out of the house here, instead, and Stan had said and done absolutely **nothing** to address that, other than to say that the two of them should stick together, and then follow through on making that a reality.

And when that young Stan ‘Lee’ had talked about -- and _kept on_ talking about -- dropping out of school and picking up extra jobs to be able to take care of his brother?

It made Ford’s heart sick.

_"It’s better this way."_ Ford shuddered when he remembered the words he’d said. Remembered the look on Stan’s face when he’d said it. Was… was that why Stan wasn’t talking about it? Because he thought...

Ford hadn’t meant it like that. He hadn’t known… hadn’t realized… --He’d just thought...

Stan knew that he hadn’t meant it like _that_... didn’t he?

...Was this really what Bill had wanted? What he’d wanted to see? What he’d wanted _Stan_ to see? ...No. No, it couldn’t be. Bill had outright _expected_ him to go through the portal, leaving Stanley behind. Bill couldn’t have expected any of this...

...but Bill _had_ expected _something_. And they were in short order reaching the end of Bill’s ‘three days’. And…

Ford pressed a hand against his mouth to muffle any disgraceful noises he might make, as all of these thoughts spun around in his head, and something very fragile and sickening now occurred to him. Because now he was thinking, thinking about what Stan had gone through. He’d gotten kicked out, over a broken project that he hadn’t been responsible for… and _he_ hadn’t had anyone stepping in to take care of him. And that younger Stan, would have _gladly_ dropped out of school to work for the sake of his brother, if Stan hadn’t been here to do what he was doing for them. It had, quite literally, been the very first thing on his mind, that that younger Stanley Pines had thought of. And _that_ meant that Stan… that _Stan_... if that had happened to _him_ , would he have…?

The first thing that Ford had thought, standing down in that hold and listening to them all talk, when he’d heard that that other, younger version of himself had been kicked out of the house… hadn’t been a thought at all. It had been outrage, and disbelief. It had been a mix of emotions that Ford could only, shallowly describe as a ‘how could he? How could this have happened?’

And it had all culminated in one single, solitary, and now truly terrifying thought: that _it wasn’t fair._

He’d never thought that for Stan. The thought had never occurred to him.

And Ford was realizing, only now, that it should have.

Because he’d thought ‘that isn’t fair, that isn’t right, to get kicked out of the house like that, just for that’. For something that had felt like no real reason at all. ...for the younger him.

But not for Stan. Ford had never even _contemplated_ what life might be like, out on the streets for his brother. He’d certainly never thought about how unfair it must have actually been for Stan to be kicked out of the house at age seventeen. He’d… he’d thought that Stan had _deserved_ it for… for ruining his life...

...for seeming so unconcerned about what he’d done that was so very wrong...

...for not even seeming to care in the slightest that...

Ford pulled in another deep breath, and let it out slowly. His eyes burned, and he grimaced at himself angrily.

...it was still unfair. Stan hadn’t deserved to be kicked out of the house for that. Not for that. Not for...

Ford hadn’t even gotten a straight answer out of him for it. He’d barely been ~~yelling at~~ talking to him for _two minutes_ before their pa had…

And it had left Ford without the means to seek any real answers, or closure to the situation. And, by the very nature of that, Stan himself had had no real chance to _answer_ for _any_ of it. To see, or to understand _exactly_ what he’d done to him, for any possible remorse to set in. No chance to have Ford explain to him what Stan had done so very very wrong. No chance to even apologize properly for it, once Ford knew that he truly understood. No chance to make up for it--

Ford’s eyes shot open in the dark of the cabin. And he felt as though he’d just been doused with cold water from his head right down to his feet.

No chance to make up for it. No chance to--

Ford’s mind raced, as he struggled to understand -- not why he hadn’t thought that might even be possible before, because _ruining someone’s life_ **wasn’t** something one could simply ‘make up for’ somehow -- why had the thought even occurred to him in the first place, without any sort of sarcasm at all? It absolutely wasn’t a viable option -- it _couldn’t_ be, if the situation had been what he’d thought it originally was before, because ruining someone’s life that thoroughly was effectively the future _death_ of whoever that person was truly meant to be, as surely as someone drawing a knife across that future person’s throat -- but...

Stan’s life had been ruined too, hadn’t it? Whether he’d ruined it himself or not, for never coming home again after that -- for refusing to for whatever pride-filled reason, as far as Ford had been able to read between the lines from what both his ma and pa had said, from time to time -- being kicked out at the age of seventeen… never graduating high school… either living out on the streets, or in a half-repaired half-broken-down and unlivable boat that was barely a step above such...

But had it all been pride? Ford just wasn’t all that sure anymore. And he’d never asked Stan about it directly. He’d been too upset about it all, again-and-still, and he’d not wanted to dredge up all that old anger and pain, to have it all bubbling up to the surface all over again. ~~To say things they shouldn’t, and hurt each other all over again, stabbing again at all those old wounds.~~ They’d barely exchanged a handful of words about it, when Stan had finally remembered what had happened to have them each ‘going their separate ways’ and not talking to each other for years -- a full _decade_ , in fact. Neither of them had wanted to talk about it, and not talking about it had seemed fine to Ford. He’d just been relieved that he’d had his brother back -- quite literally, back from the dead again _after he’d pulled the trigger at his own bequest and killed him_.

Neither of them had wanted to talk about it, and there had been plenty of other things that had needed attention and fixing far more than that, to fill up all of their time besides: the rest of Stan’s memory, the house and the Mystery Shack itself, the fault line and dimensional tears in the forest--

And Ford pulled in a sharp breath.

\-- _Stan had **consistently** talked about fixing things with Bill since he’d been back._ About making up for unthinkable things. Fixing things. _Making things better._ \--Penalties and learning-lessons. ‘You fix it at least partway, and the penalty gets to be less.’

The implication there was: _some things you can’t make up for completely, but you **can** do **something** about it to make things better._

Stan _never_ talked about forgiveness, when he talked about that.

He just went ahead and did things, and didn’t ask for anybody else to say or do anything...

He’d only brought up ‘forgiveness’ _once_ , and it hadn’t been _forgiveness_ , not really. He’d asked Ford _what Bill could do to make it up to him_.

At the time, Ford had thought Stan had meant forgiving Bill, to give the demon a chance to stab him in the back all over again, but-- that hadn’t been what Stan had meant at all, Ford was now realizing.

All along, Stan had been trying to give Bill some of the very most basic things that _he hadn’t had after losing his home_ : food, clothing, shelter, schooling. Ford had drawn the first parallel to Stanley, but he hadn’t drawn the second. Because Bill didn’t want to be forgiven for anything that he had done, and that was that.

But Stanley… didn’t want to be forgiven, either. --Not because he didn’t care about it or was absolutely uninterested in it, but rather because in all likelihood, it was occuring to Ford now that it likely hadn’t even seemed like an _option_ to Stan. It probably didn’t even occur to him that he might ask for it, and...

...and _what?_ Ford shivered. Because if his brother had asked him to _forgive_ him for breaking his science fair project one week ago, would he have done it? Would he have done it two weeks ago?

Three?

When they’d been out on the boat together?

... _Ever?_

Because Ford wouldn’t have. He could not conceive of a situation in which Stan could have said something that would have had him letting go of that dull, old and painful anger. Of _not caring_ that Stan had ruined his life, anymore. --On purpose, and with malice aforethought, Ford had thought.

...And Ford couldn’t conceive of forgiving Stan, even now. But now, it was because he simply had no idea what to _think_ about it all ~~let alone what to _feel_~~.

Because, quite frankly, he’d just been confronted with the idea that _Stan’s_ idea of trying to ‘make up for’ something that _wasn’t even his fault_ would be to give up his _own_ life to go out and try and work _three jobs or more_ to try and take care of a him that was homeless at _age seventeen_. ~~\--Either of them. Both of them. Because what Stan had been doing these last few days? Acting as a guardian - boat repairman - carpenter - cook - money-making con-man and breadwinner for _all four_ of them, _plus_ two demons?~~

Ford couldn’t even begin to _comprehend_ what Stan would have considered doing for him, to try and make up for him not getting into West Coast Tech, if he’d had the chance, if he _hadn’t_ been kicked out of the house for… for _whatever_ had happened with that project, with them.

...The project that he had damn near stepped forward and broken himself, staring down at it on that table in this dimension.

Everything, absolutely _everything_ , about this was wrong. All of it. Every last piece and bit of it _was wrong_.

It hurt his head. It hurt his heart.

~~It made him want to punch and kick and scream vile profanity at the sky, that _these_ versions of themselves got to have what he had not. What he had been denied, through-- through _what_? Fate? Destiny? --His own, stupid _pride?_~~

~~...Karma?~~

~~......or maybe _Bill himself_ , somehow?~~

Ford tried to switch to a different topic. A different thought. Because this train of thought was making him _hurt_. But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. The things he had said, and what he had thought… how wrong had he been to say them? To think them? How wrong had he been _then_ , and was he wrong _now_ , about what he knew about everything?

...And now Ford was thinking about what his younger self must have thought he’d meant, when he’d said what he’d said out on that beach. _’It’s better this way.’_

...And now he was thinking what Stan must have heard when he’d said what he had out there, on that beach, too. What he must’ve _thought_ , when he’d heard...

And it all made Ford feel even worse. Twisted up inside, painful and heavy and--

He shook and suppressed the sob building in his throat. Suddenly, he wanted to go back outside and ~~punish himself by~~... if he was lying down and sleeping next to Bill, then Stanley wouldn't hear him, would he? Because Ford absolutely did not want Stanley to hear him right now-- they were in the same room, Stan would definitely--

Ford shoved his face under the pillow and breathed, hot tears streaming down his face, trying as hard as he could to calm down. He _couldn’t_ let Stan see him break down like this, he just _couldn’t_. He couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to take--

Ford curled in around himself and held in his distressed sobs, and, eventually, after much careful breathing, he managed to get his shoulders to stop shaking.

He slowly and carefully wiped the remnants of the tears away from his face, and tried not to think about anything too hard for awhile, except...

...Three days. Bill had said three days.

Tomorrow was going to be _beyond_ the third day.

And Ford had absolutely no idea what to do. About anything.

And somehow, it was worse -- not better -- that Stan was there with him. Because that just meant that his brother was going to be hurt somehow, too. When Bill did whatever he was planning on doing...

Ford _wasn’t_ ready for him. ~~And Ford was now starting to fear that he never had been.~~

And Ford wondered, as he drifted off to sleep, exhausted from his surge of emotions, if it had occurred to Stan that the niblings were actually safer, with Bill not in the same dimension as them anymore. He wondered if Stan realized that, the longer they could keep Bill away from their home dimension, the more chance they might have for Ford to find a working solution to their problem. Ford had made that quantum destabilizer before; he could do so again. It wasn’t as though he’d forgotten how to make it. He’d even spent the last several weeks before this trying to figure out ways to create _more_ of them, not just alternate power sources that could effectively power it to the level that they needed. If Stan would just _listen to him_ for once, when it came down to killing Bill...

~~But then, if Stan had been willing to do that, he would have performed the circle with them long-since, and Bill would have been taken care of _weeks_ ago.~~

Ford slowly, in fits and starts, relaxed and tensed, and relaxed and tensed, and...

... _eventually_ , Stanford Pines fell asleep.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: This arc keeps getting longer but we SHOULD be getting close to the group finally leaving to go back to their original dimension, and then I can start on the next part with Miz interacting more with the other humans and learning a bit more about introspection.
> 
> Sorry that we had to push back the DragonMiz thing again.
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  *looks at chapter count*...
> 
> [Chapter 98](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/46013365) was a placeholder chapter because we ran late.


	18. Chapter 87: Well I can’t give you that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> What happens if you try to distance yourself from your zodiac? Well, some zodiacs at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 99 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/46015810). It was first posted on Jun 24, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\-----

"Bill, get up. -- _Get up, **now**_ ," Stan ordered, standing over him and his ‘nest’ with his ‘sister’ in it.

Bill twisted in place slightly and let out a huff. Stan _wanted_ to just grab him and cart him off, but he knew he needed the kid non-combative for this, and seconds counted. If he didn't wait until the kid was awake, he'd just waste time in...

"mmmM?" Miz said herself, rubbing at her eyes and looking up at him. --Yeah, it was early, even for her, even for Stan. Stan hadn’t known _why_ he’d woken up at first either, not until he’d thought to check on his brother and--

Bill slowly sat up, blinking. He stopped and swayed slightly in place.

\--That was gonna have to be good enough. Stan hauled him up, lifted him over a shoulder and turned, telling Miz, "Go out swimming or something, I don’t care. I need the kid for a bit, and _no interruptions_." He didn’t wait for a reply, heading for the cabin already. He needed her out of the way and well out of earshot.

Miz blinked, yawning a little. "O-kaaaay~" She wobbled to her feet and plopped over the side of the boat, still a little dazed, landing in the sand with a soft ‘foof!’ ~~(Yeah, she’d be fine. Demon-dragon.)~~

Stan stomped into the cabin in something of a rush, and practically dropped the kid down on the bunk next to Ford.

"Wake him the hell up completely!" Stan demanded out of the kid, who blinked and swayed in place a bit where he was sitting, then twisted in place slightly to look down at Ford and then...

...the kid raised a hand up, put it on the side of Ford’s head, and his mouth dropped open and he let out that ‘screaming’-singing _hummmmm_ of his...

\--and those minor muscle trembles Ford was doing abruptly stopped, and-- Ford practically _convulsed_ in bed -- limbs _flailing_ \-- and started actually gasping in air again, his eyes flying the rest of the way open.

Stan dropped down onto the edge of the bed and _immediately_ reached over and grabbed his brother up in a hug, upright against his chest, because-- Ford had been trying to sit up, eyes locked on him, hands grasping forwards along the sheets for _him_. (He’d looked like he’d been trying to _get away from_ the kid for a second, there. ~~Hey, progress!~~ )

...Ford was gasping in his arms, and grabbing at him kind of weirdly, like… like Ford’s arms didn’t really want to work. ...Until his brother seemed to start to get better, like his body started _working_ again.

...Or like he’d suddenly remembered how to work his arms again. ~~Shit. _What the hell…_~~

"It’s okay, Ford. It’s okay," Stan told him, holding onto him carefully, as the kid continued to hum out that weird ‘singing’-stuff in the background, not touching either of them. "You’re okay." Stan rubbed his back a bit, and he felt Ford shiver in place.

...And then his brother turned and ducked his head up against Stan’s neck slightly.

"Hell, Ford," Stan said quietly, as he pulled him in a little closer, as his brother’s breathing started getting a little less heaving- _frantic_ , and the kid’s _whatever_ -it-was ‘singing’ slowly tapered off…

The kid closed his mouth again and quieted, watching them both.

Ford was straightening up in place slowly, looking between them both. (He was breathing almost normally again, but...)

Damnit. This wasn’t okay. --Stan hadn’t known _what_ was going on earlier. If he hadn’t checked…

"You awake?" Stan asked him, and got a slight jerky nod out of him. And yeah, Ford was sure awake _now_ , but… he hadn’t been moving before. He hadn’t even been _twitching_ , really, but he’d looked tense as _hell_ and he’d been trembling slightly, like maybe he’d wanted to wake up, or get up, or something, but **couldn’t**. ...And Stan hadn’t been able to properly rouse him, with a shake of a hand on his shoulder.

His brother hadn’t really been making any noise at all, but… his eyes had been just a little bit open and… he’d looked panicked. Like… like Stan didn’t _know_ what. And he’d been doing that trembling thing. Stan hadn’t even been sure if his brother had been completely…

It was when Stan had realized Ford’s eyes were half-open that he’d cursed out loud and rushed off to go get the kid. He should’ve done it sooner, realized it sooner -- he’d just been doing what he normally did, rousing his brother when he woke up like he’d always used to do on the ‘Two -- but he’d been half-asleep himself at first, with no coffee around to fix that one for him, and he hadn’t been… hell, he hadn’t been thinking. He hadn’t really thought that...

Stan slowly looked up at the kid, who was watching them both with half-lidded eyes.

The demon was _smiling_.

Stan ~~felt that flare of anger rise up and he~~ squared his shoulders and ground out at the kid, " _You **knew** this would happen._"

"Oh, YES," the demon said, and he sounded fucking pleased with himself, is how he sounded. Stan clenched his jaw. "Really, I’d expected something a LOT more like _this_ sooner," the demon said casually, as he sat there. On the edge of his brother’s bunk. Not three feet away from him.

While his brother was sitting with him, practically scared out of his mind by a nightmare, still _letting_ Stan _continue_ to hug and hold onto him in his arms.

"What. Did. You. Do." Stan ground out at the demon, because there was _no way_ in fucking _hell_ that--

"I didn’t do anything," Bill drawled out, sounding as pleased as can be. "He did it to himself." And before Stan could pull in the air to yell at him, what slipped out of the demon’s mouth next in a breath was, " _No help for that Stanford again, **EVER.**_ "

And Stan felt his eyes go wide.

The demon was _GRINNING_ at him, looking absolutely _ecstatic_.

And Stan felt something zero out, just flatline completely inside his head.

\--Ford’s hand was wrapped around his other wrist in a vise grip of steel as his brother shakingly told him, "No. Don’t… don’t give him…" Stan shook slightly in place, realized he was fighting against his own brother’s grip as his brother took in another shaky breath and said, as firmly as he could (which wasn’t very ~~and also too much~~ ), " _Don’t_ give him what he wants."

...And Stan turned his head and stared over at his brother in disbelief.

He’d been about to haul the demon forward, and ~~only let go again to~~ _punch him in the face_ for doing this to Ford, and Ford had _**stopped him** from doing it?_

Ford was looking at him, leaning on him even as he held onto him with that grip that was stopping him. And his brother looked wavering-firm, but scared.

...for him. Ford was scared _for him_.

...and the kids. He must be. Because the last time he’d seen Ford looked that scared, anxious, nervous, and terrified--

Stan felt his own breath speeding up, going too fast. His brother didn’t want him to--?!

~~\--to _defend him?_ Why the hell _not_?! Why wouldn’t Ford let him--~~

\--break the agreement, the kids were on the line. Goddamnit. _That_ was what Ford had to be scared of--

\-- _Stan didn’t care_ , the demon had _crossed the line **already!**_ It was _too late_ for--

Stan looked up at the demon, angry as anything, and--

\--and Ford had delayed him long enough that he was past the initial rush of red rage. So when looked back over at the demon again, this time he actually _saw_ what was right in front of him. He realized what he was seeing.

The demon’s eyes were flat. He was sitting there, tense and waiting. His shirt was fisted in Stan’s grip -- which had only barely been arrested in time by Ford -- and the demon wasn’t fighting it. He wasn’t moving at all. He was just _sitting there_ , waiting and tense, and he was--

There was uncertainty in that demon’s eyes. Past all the absolute insanity filling his gaze, the wide grin, the _anticipation_ \--

\--past and beyond _all that_ was the idiot dumbass punk kid sitting right in front of him, _shoving as hard as he could_ up against the boundaries that Stan had put in place for him--

~~\--against them, up against them, because the stupid fucking demon didn’t think he’d done anything wrong--~~

Fuck. _Goddamnit._ This fucking--

Stan pulled in a hard harsh breath and he tried as hard as he could to rise above it. Just for a minute. Just for--

He couldn’t do it. He knew he couldn’t do this. The demon _deserved_ a punch in the face, for this, and Stan couldn’t hold back. Not after this. Not this time.

...But Stan did it anyway. Because _fuck_ what he couldn’t or couldn’t do, he had his _brother_ here with him, and he trusted Ford to keep him from going over the edge if he _really_ was going too far.

So Stan pulled in a breath and ~~shook in place a little with rage as he~~ leaned forward and demanded out of the kid roughly, " _Say that again._ "

And the demon let out a laugh. One of those ‘AHAHAHAHA!’ ones. ~~Oh, this little _shit_. This stupid little-- He was giving the game away, it was shakier than it should’ve been if he’d been playing for--~~

"Say it _again_ , kid," Stan demanded out of him, tightening his grip on his shirt, and not letting up on him for a minute.

He saw the demon twitch slightly at the ‘kid’. He saw and felt him try to pull away slightly, out of his hold, the fist that was still in his shirt -- the demon-kid made it _look_ like he was just trying to resituate himself in place, but Stan knew better. Stan didn’t let go.

...And neither did the kid. ...Because he had a hand at his forearm. Stan hadn’t even felt it before; he was only seeing it and realizing it was there, now. He’d noticed his brother’s hand at his wrist, but he hadn’t felt--

that grip. He’d pulled his chest away a little bit, or tried to, but--

\--This was the kid, trying to push him into breaking the agreement himself, when--

~~\--the kid had been hanging onto Ford, too, out on that porch before he’d called the deal off, just like this, almost. Damnit. (Demon couldn’t lie worth a damn, could he. He--)~~

"I didn’t do anything. He did it to himself. No help for that Stanford again, _ever_ ," the kid repeated flatly, and he felt the kid twitching every so often in his hold now, the hand grabbing at his arm tensing every so often...

And Stan managed to stay far up enough above the anger for long enough that he realized-- what was _really_ going on.

(Kid wasn’t even trying to push his buttons this time. Not really. The demon had barely tried this time. He wasn’t looking _nearly_ as enthusiastic as he had been before. ~~Kid was already maybe starting to realize just how badly he’d screwed this one up, but good. And if he didn’t? Stan was _damn well_ sure gonna make sure the stupid punk kid understood it **now**.~~)

Stan took in a deep breath and let it out, as his mind raced forward. As he figured out what he was going to do about this.

~~...Oh, was this kid gonna have it coming.~~

Because the kid wasn’t lying. ...The kid didn’t _think_ he was lying to them.

~~The kid was trying to run. The kid had been, and still was, _trying_ to get him to pull the _trigger_ on--~~

"You’re not helpin’ Ford anymore." Stan repeated. It wasn’t a question; the kid had outright said that Ford wasn’t getting any help from him anymore -- and it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, either. ~~(And Stan remembered when, the last time he’d said it--)~~

"YES," said the kid. "I am NOT helping that Stanford anymore."

And Stan saw Bill Cipher lower his head slightly, preparing for... the hit.

Demon was looking him right in the eyes and expecting him to...

...What, did he think he was an _idiot?_

Stan glared at him.

And then he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax.

When he opened his eyes again, and opened his fist, he saw the confusion start to set in with the demon-kid. ...He hadn’t expected that, yeah. He’d thought he’d just found his ‘out’. Just the right-wrong button to push.

...Kid still hadn’t let go of his arm, even if Ford had loosened the hold on his wrist.

"Ford, let go," he told his brother quietly.

"Stan…"

"It’s fine, let go."

Ford let go. (So did the demon.)

And Stan slowly raised his hand up.

The kid got that flat look in his eyes again.

~~The stupid punk-ass demon-kid braced himself in place, glaring up at him.~~

And Stan _smiled_ at him.

And then Stan leaned forward, reached forward, and _patted the kid on the side of the head_.

"Good job, kid," he said in the lightest of tones. "You’re really tryin’ to keep to the agreement here, now, aren’tcha?"

And Stan knew, he just _knew_ , that he was right on the money with what was _actually going on_ here, when the kid looked startled, even straight-up _confused_ , staring at him in disbelief, and then--

Yeah. --Did his brother catch that? Stan really hoped so.

Because there’d been a flash of fear, there, for a second. Kid had tried to pull away from his there, from his hand on his head, eyes wide as he realized what Stanley Filbrick Pines _wasn’t_ about to do.

\--Kid was scared ~~and oh, how he _should_ be -- smartest thing the kid had ever thought about him~~; the kid didn't know what to do, because he’d thought something, something about him, and the kid? _He’d been dead wrong_.

~~Because Stan had listened to his brother. He had his brother, here, _backing him up_. --You payin’ attention to this, kid?~~

And the _next_ thing the kid was thinking? Stan would bet the Shack that the kid was wrong about that one, too.

Stan wasn’t an idiot. (He wasn't gonna just add a bunch more rules, and a bunch more rules, and a bunch more rules on top of everything he had going, more and more tryin' to cover absolutely every last thing that could happen down to a T.)

Stan wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing. (He knew what would happen if he did that. And Ford was right; he wasn’t about to give the kid what he _thought_ that he wanted. In the moment. Just after waking up. ~~Kid had boxed himself in on this one, and Stan had let him. Maybe he should’ve not let things go last night all that easily. Because every time he let go just a little bit, and let Ford and the kid do whatever the hell they wanted...~~ )

(And he knew what the kid was trying to do, too. ~~Letting things slide and slide and _ram_ right up to the breaking point, thinking they’d maybe break right on through it all. --This _wasn’t_ ‘helping’, kid.~~)

He wasn't gonna try to tie down the triangle so tight that the kid would **have** to break _everything_ or get strangled by it all, from too much conflicting junk being shoved down onto him. Hell, no. That wasn't how the agreement was supposed to go. That wasn't how to make things _work_.

(That'd just get them all killed. ~~It’d just give the kid that many more things to try and break, and have Stan having to run around after him forever. Stan wasn’t doing that. Whole point of this thing was to have the kid running circles around after _himself_. Stopping _himself_. Not Stan.~~)

Stan didn’t stop there, or let the kid get away with _that_ ; he reached forward and pulled the kid forward by him arm -- roughly, but not too roughly, _just_ enough for the kid not to be calling it ‘an attack’ ~~_what, you think I can’t go right up to the line on some of this stuff, too?_~~ \-- and he started patting the kid’s head again, the side of it, on top. (Not messing it up, it was definitely a rough patting. ~~Might’ve, y’know, come pretty close.~~ ) He didn’t let up.

And yeah, he stopped patting the kid’s head after awhile ~~a couple of minutes~~ , once all that was left there in the kid's eyes was confusion and more than a little irritation -- no fear, ~~none of that, there, ‘cause that wasn’t really what he was goin’ for, either, to get all mirrored back at him again, too~~ \-- and just let his hand lie right there where it was, all relaxed. No threat really; just there.

And then Stan (finally) looked over at Ford again (who looked like he really didn’t know _what_ to think) and Stan told him, "Kid’s supposed to let me know when there’s some kinda weak spot in the agreement, where somebody can attack us. --You’re on the priority list now, because of me and the kids. That means the agreement includes you, too, _implicitly_."

"Stan…" Ford said quietly, and yeah, he knew. Ford remembered him telling him why her hadn’t had him as part of the agreement in the first place, but things were a little bit different now. (Because his brother had--)

Stan looked over at the stupid punk kid again and said, more evenly, to his brother, "Kid’s been _sure_ that I can’t make this all work, since forever. Said he’d be willing to let me _try_ , but..." Stan grimaced, not looking away from the kid. "Probably thought this one was a doozy. Rules weren’t set up to handle this, they ain’t enough as-is to stop somethin’ like this from happening to you, with the kid _maybe_ only _barely_ followin’ them ‘by-the-book’, instead of actually _trying_ to keep the _mutual non-aggression_ agreement himself."

He saw a flash of anger cross the kid’s face next.

_’...Yeah, you just wait, kid. I’m gonna drop-kick you in the head so hard…_ ’ Stan looked down at his brother again, pulled him up and in a little tighter of a one-armed hug as he could right then. "Kid thinks you’re attacking yourself; that’s outta bounds, the way I've got things set up. Not his callout. So the kid _doesn’t_ **have** to help you out; he’s only helping _me_ , and tryin’ to keep you alive and feeling all-right in the head for the kids. --And that ain’t enough, is it," Stan said to the kid, looking up at him again. "You better tell me what I’m missing here, though," Stan said next, in far too level tones, leaning in a little bit. "You slept outside for this, and you _knew_ what was gonna happen, didn’t you. That _ain’t_ actually following the agreement, _kid_. Because if Ford stops breathing--"

"He’ll survive," was the bland response he got out of the kid for that one, and Stan felt his temper spike again.

"Stan…" was the quiet warning response he got from Ford again, and Stan forced it all back down again.

" _Thinking_ you’re gonna be able to get to him in time isn’t _enough_ , kid!" Stan yelled out at him harshly. "If _my brother_ suffocates--!"

"He can’t," the demon said next, and every thought process and argument Stan had going on in his head ground to a straight-up halt.

And the look of disbelief he had going must’ve been strong enough that even the kid knew what he was thinking there, because the kid leaned back (and Stan let him, dropping his hand back down to his side almost numbly) and the kid pushed his hands down against the bedsheets on either side of him, and the kid said, " _That Stanford_ could walk straight on down into the ocean and _breathe water_ , and NOT DROWN. --He could breathe ANYTHING and not-suffocate! _**I made sure of that.**_ "

And Stan stared at the (glaring) demon in disbelief as he heard this.

And he felt Ford shiver in place at his side, and suddenly realized exactly _why_ his brother had been so willing to risk his own life in not falling asleep next to the kid last night.

It was because _he hadn’t been._

...Which meant that the kid had just set up the perfect fucking trap ~~for him, for them _both_ , to...~~. The demon really _hadn’t_ had to...

(Not by the strictest sense of the agreement, he hadn’t. ~~But that wasn’t what Stan was going for; not by a long shot. The demon-kid--~~ )

"Ford, is this actually a thing?" Stan said lowly to his brother.

"I…" His brother swallowed, and said quietly, "I haven’t actually tried…"

"--Wouldn’t be all that _pleasant_ ," the kid cut in, with an almost-cheerful _sneer_ , crossing his arms at them. "Getting all that sand and salt and silt out of his lungs that-much-later. And all that _algae_ , woo--!" the demon enthused, with a horrible gleam in his eye. ~~And the bastard-punk was really enjoying this--~~

Stan pulled in a breath, and he forcibly steadied himself. (Damnit. This was what he’d been dealing with all these years. His brother… his brother had been dealing with _this_. This shit. ~~_This_ was what Ford was afraid of having happen, to them, to _all_ of them, _all the time_ \--~~ This kind of shit.)

Stan felt his brother wince when he asked the kid, "When," and he felt him almost cringe when the demon said, "When he first arrived in my own little corner of the multiverse! --I changed the ruleset acting on him _PERMANENTLY_ ; added my own little localized one -- practically _stapled_ it onto him -- just for him!"

"Why." Stan said ~~when what he really wanted to ask was _what the hell **else** did you do to my brother, you--_~~.

"Because I didn’t want him SUFFOCATING himself after he _left_ **MY** little neck-of-the-multiverse on his little jaunt through wherever," the demon-kid waved off. "Just because I set up MY dimension that way, DOESN’T mean that--"

"--I hear ya," Stan said next, cutting the kid off, and the kid fell silent, though he looked annoyed (and tense) as he quieted. Because Stan had gotten the gist of it; the demon had done this thing to Ford back when they’d had their deal on, and Ford _knew_ about it ~~(hell, he’d _have_ to, didn’t he? _‘the next minute you’re **breathing fingers** ’_…)~~, and...

Oh. Oh, goddamnit. Kid really would’ve actually felt fucking justified at breaking things after, if Stan had hit him for what he’d just said ~~_dared_ to say~~ to him ~~that way, to him and his brother, to their faces~~ , for mouthing off at him, for telling ~~_crowing at_~~ him what he _hadn’t_ done, ~~what he’d thought he’d _gotten away with_ , what he’d thought he should _be able to_ get way with~~ with the way things were set up right now. The kid had actually ~~_technically_ , **damn** it~~ been _completely_ within the agreement as-is.

If Ford hadn’t stopped him--

Stan took in a deep breath...

And Stan sent a long ~~dark and angry~~ look at the kid.

...Y’know, Stan had been about to (mentally) hit the kid with what he’d been all wrong-thinking about first, in not following the agreement, in just _letting_ Ford practically suffocate from a bad dream instead of trying to prevent it before. But if that wasn’t a thing…

Stan _could’ve_ hammered the point home right then that the kid _should’ve_ not let it go, that he _should’ve_ said something to him and warned him about it all anyway, been a _hell_ of a lot more specific about all of it, and not just let things go like that…

But Stan didn’t feel like having that argument right now. The kid would still think he was justified, at having been willing to -- and been trying to -- get Ford to sleep next to him at all, to begin with. Stupid punk kid would probably just say that Stan had overruled him with the whole ‘or you can do this instead’ thing that he’d tossed out there last night, to try and get the both of them to sleep sometime before the sun rose over all their heads again.

Trying to fight _that_ particular fight? Was pointless. All that would do would just be _wasting his time_ , and getting Stan exactly nowhere with him.

So Stan just went on to the _second_ thing, instead. (Hey, getting _this_ part of things settled mattered more right now, anyway.)

"You don’t want to be doin’ this," Stan told the kid firmly.

"I’m not doing anything!" the kid told him with a smile. "THAT’S the POINT!"

Stan clenched his jaw, and he felt Ford tense. Stan rubbed a hand across Ford’s back slowly. (No, he wasn’t gonna lose it. Hang in there, Ford.)

Yeah, the kid had overplayed his hand earlier. Stan knew better.

"I want you to start doin’ for Ford what you were doing for him before, again," Stan told him.

"No," said the kid angrily, and " **No** ," said Ford, far more quietly, but with no less intensity.

And then the kid let out a laugh and gave them both a (brittle) smile and gestured at Ford, saying, "--SEE! We’re _aligned_ on this! --I’m _just_ doing what he WANTS," the kid said next, giving them that wide, too-wide grin of his again.

"Thought you said that what Ford wants ain’t good for him," Stan said evenly, and the kid lost the grin. Kid didn’t laugh about it, or enthusiastically agree and try to _one up_ him on it, no. He--

Stan breathed, because yeah, he’d been paying attention, and...

"...It ain’t good for you, either. Is it. Not doing whatever this thing is." Because his brother wasn’t looking so hot just then, but… neither was the kid. "That you _decided_ to stop doing." ~~Because yeah, the one time the kid decided to act all stubborn like he thought Ford was like -- ‘deciding things all on his own’ like the kid complained about Ford doing to _him_ \-- **literally** complained about for days and days on end -- and _this_ is what the kid was gonna ‘decide’ to get all stubborn and ‘decide’-y over? _This?_ \--Like hell.~~

The demon remained silent, but the way he was _glaring_ at him...

...Yeah, y’know what? That was fine; Stan would get back to that one later. "There any other thing anybody could do, to make Ford stop having these nightmares, besides you doin’ your thing again, whatever that is, or you lettin’ him fall asleep next to you?"

"...Yes," said the kid.

_Right._ "What are the easiest ways that we could do it, other than having you do _whatever_ again instead," Stan demanded out of him next. ~~Y’know, all that stuff that the kid _should’ve told him earlier_.~~

"...That Stanford falls asleep next to and touching you," the kid said next. What he wasn’t expecting to hear, that slipped out of the kid next, though, was an, "Or Stitched-Heart."

And that… ~~sonofabitch~~ told him about _half_ of what Stan had needed to know. This was some kinda stupid _Zodiac_ thing going on here. Which meant...

"Bill, what the _hell_ did you stop doing for Ford?" Stan said next.

"I stopped helping him," the demon repeated. "No help from me - again - ever."

Yeah, this was definitely some kinda Zodiac thing, with the kid refusing to talk like this.

"Why do you think Ford doesn’t want it?" Stan asked the demon blandly next, and he felt Ford stir more than a little bit restlessly next to him. (It’s fine, Ford. ~~Was a pretty damn good thing that he’d worked out that ‘rub you back’ signal-thing with his brother before. Demon-kid might get ciphers, but half the time he hardly saw what was right in front of his face. The things you _weren’t_ trying to hide from him, half the time he just didn’t get.~~ Just a little more…)

"-- _Because he doesn’t want **anything** to do with me_," the kid spat out at him next, and yeah, Stan had finally begun to touch on the nerve. "He wants me to treat him like a Stanford? _Refuses_ to be a ‘Sixer’ -- my six-fingered hand?! --WELL, I can _certainly_ treat him like a _Stanford_ instead -- **just as MUCH as he WANTS!** " the kid snarled out at them both.

( _‘And he can choke on it, too.’_ Was the not so subtle subtext the kid was tossing out there. _‘Literally’._ )

Fuck. "You disconnected from him," Stan said, in a sudden rush of understanding. It made sense; kid had talked about disconnecting himself from things like _karma_ before, so why not people? Why not _them?_ \--And with Ford not wanting anything to do with the demon… The kid mirrored what was tossed at him, and he threw it back _hard_. ~~Just as hard as Ford had been pushing the demon away, not wanting _anything_ to do with him, and now the kid was--~~

"No," said Bill, crossing his arms and looking annoyed. But then he said next: "Not _completely_." (Stan felt Ford straighten in place.) "--He’s mine; can’t get rid of ME!" the kid added, with a twisted, weird sort of grin. ~~And an almost demented, not just angry but _furious_ look in his eyes.~~ "But that DOESN’T mean I have to--!!"

"--You can’t get rid of _him_ , either," Stan cut in, "And you’re shooting yourself in the foot, pullin’ this shit."

Kid froze in place at that, wide-eyed and looking disgruntled. ...Yeah, caught you out right _there_ , huh kid.

"You’re gonna connect right back up to him, same way as you were before, _**right now**_ ," Stan said to the demon firmly.

"-- _No_ ," the kid said immediately.

"Stan, I don’t want that…" Ford said quietly to him.

"Ford, you’re having nightmares that you can’t handle, and you’re practically a walking zombie or somethin’ these days," Stan told him, because it wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed it, damnit. "--It’s not just the nightmare-thing, is it," Stan said to the kid. "You’re made of energy, you were more connected to him before…" Didn’t take a genius to figure out that maybe… "Ford’s been tired as hell lately. --That’s part of it too, ain’t it." Because Stan would just bet that the kid had been _giving_ Ford some of that energy of his, somehow, before. ~~To help keep him going...~~

The demon-kid grimaced at him, then looked away.

...Yeah, Stan had noticed something was up; he just hadn’t known what or why, before. But his brother had been tiring out real quick the last couple of days since the kid had stopped all that ‘helping him’ stuff. Ford had been slowly getting worse before, at home, at the Shack -- _after_ his deal with the kid had been off -- but he hadn’t been _that_ bad. Ford had been recovering from two weeks of practically no sleep, and a hell of a lot of stress; it took awhile to come off a bender like that. But here? His night-owl insomniac brother had gone from maybe thinking it was just a coffee thing and being a little more tired than he was used to every day, to suddenly being nearly _forced_ to stop and lie down only three or four hours after waking up, and needing naps in the afternoon and junk, and it wasn’t like Stan hadn’t noticed all of that going on.

"I want you to do it, kid," Stan said next, and for the moment ignored his brother’s quiet, ~~~~"Stan…"~~~~

"That Stanford doesn’t want me to," the kid said next, not looking at him.

"I can convince him to say yes," Stan told the kid with absolute assurance. "I want you to--"

"No," said the kid. "That Stanford--"

"Ford, agree to it," Stan said, not looking away from the kid.

There was a long silence ~~except for the sound of them all breathing~~.

"I’m not…" Ford began.

"You can’t disconnect from him completely, Ford," Stan told him. "Kid wasn’t lying there. Might as well get enough outta him to stop having those nightmares, again. Get _something_ out of it, even if you can’t get yourself out of it. Yeah?"

"I…" Ford began, then paused.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw his brother look between him, and the demon.

And then, heh, _then_ Ford slowly said, "...Alright, Stan." And then his brother took in a breath and gave him a quiet, "Yes."

Stan smiled. (Ladies and gentlemen: his brother. Doing the unexpected, just like he’d said: something that Bill wouldn’t expect, sometimes.)

"I want you to do it, kid," Stan repeated.

"N-no," the kid said, and Stan’s eyes narrowed slightly at the half-stutter. (He’d caught that. ~~Had his brother?~~ )

"Doesn’t have to be a lot, kid," Stan added next, "Just enough to ease it all off."

"N-no, I--" The kid looked around, away, grimaced and almost said… something, looking like he was trying to gain some kind of mental traction and _losing_ it, like he had shifting sand beneath him… but then he seemed to grab ahold of _something_ and **stop** himself. (Barely.) And as Stan watched, the kid physically pushed himself back -- _his_ back -- up back against the wall of the cabin behind him. Just as he _mentally_ pushed himself back, as well.

Kid was glaring at Ford as he did it. (And Ford was staring quietly as he watched all this, saying nothing.)

"No," the kid finally said to them clearly. "I’m not doing that."

But it looked like it had cost the kid some serious effort.

...Stan thought about all this for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what he’d just seen there a little better. He was starting to get an idea of...

Yeah. There was a lot to unpack with the kid, sure. But the way the kid had been acting the last couple of days… really, the biggest change in how the kid had been acting recently, _ever since he’d stopped **whatever** this thing was with Ford_, was...

Heh. Okay. Sure. (...And _that_ was probably the last pillar of whatever that the kid had managed to grab onto there, for a ‘no’. And _then_ …) So, yeah. Let’s go with…

And then, without looking away from the kid, he said next, quite calmly to Ford, "Ford, you remember that talk we had a couple months ago on the boat, in Iceland? About that one scrawny-ass guy with the big black beard?"

Stan could just about feel Ford’s stare on him at the abrupt shift in topic. (Yeah, just give him a minute. He’d get there.)

"...Yes," Ford said slowly. "I do."

"You remember how he stole that gas can from us, right off of our boat?" Stan said next. "How we had to go runnin’ after him to get it back?"

"Yes," said Ford, glancing between him and the kid.

"You remember how we lost him," Stan said, still not looking away from the demon. "But how I asked around, and we searched around, and we found his brother’s shop instead?"

"Yes," Ford said next.

Stan pulled in a slow breath. He saw how the kid was already tensing.

"You remember when I saw our gas can in the window of that shop there, and I brought up goin’ in there and takin’ it back, and all-else I wanted to maybe do? What you told me, then?" Stan asked his brother next. (And yeah, it had been a doozy. He’d straight-up turned around and asked his brother if he was really serious. And he had been.)

"Yes," said Ford, frowning at him.

"Good," said Stan, lowering his hand away from the center of his brother’s back (and ending the signal he’d been giving him). "Tell the kid what you told me."

Ford gave him a long look.

But his brother did as he said, and said, "I told you that I didn’t believe that it was appropriate to barge in there, guns blazing. We didn’t know whether he’d had anything to do with the theft," Ford said, "Or if he’d even known it was stolen."

"Yeah," Stan said, "But do you remember what you told me _specifically_."

Ford paused for a moment. "...I believe I said, ‘Stan, I see no reason to treat the thief’s brother like the thief himself. I refuse to do that to someone, without evidence to the contrary.’"

Kid was still looking tense. And he was staring at Ford, now. (...Yeah, Stan had _thought_ that’d get his attention. Wasn’t like he didn’t remember when and why the demon had pulled all this shit in the first place.)

"Yeah," Stan said next, "And I remember that big long discussion we had when we got back to the boat later, too." Stan dropped a hand on Ford’s shoulder, and he said, "So, gotta hypothetical question for you, here, o’ brother of mine." Ford sighed and turned towards him with a grimace -- ‘cause that was what he did when Stan talked to him like that, heh -- and gave him a ‘this had better be good’ look to him.

And then Stan asked (while already knowing the answer), "Did you mean that for everybody?"

His brother blinked at him. "What?"

"Y’know," Stan said, " _Anybody._ Brother, sister, aunt, uncle, parent, sibling, _whatever_. Somebody does something, and one of them--"

"-- _Stanley_ ," Ford said harshly, pushing away from him slightly on the bed and cutting him off. "I am _not_ going to blame anyone else for something that they didn’t do!"

"Not gonna take something out on somebody else," Stan said.

"No! Never!" Ford said hotly, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Not even if they’re family and--" Stan began.

"-- _Of course not!_ " Ford shot out, "Stanley, I already _told_ you--"

"Doesn’t matter who it is, or what they’ve done," Stan said.

"--No!!" Ford said hotly. "That’s _not_ \--"

"Even if it’s Bill Cipher," Stan put out there.

"That would _hardly_ matter--" Ford began almost automatically, then stopped and stared at Stan. "What…?"

"Y’know, _hypothetically_ ," Stan said next, but he was already smiling on the inside, because his brother looked half-distraught, and he could see the look on the kid’s face out of the corner of his eye and--

"That’s _hardly_ topical, Stanley," Ford began, "Because Bill--"

"Well, y’know, _Miz_ is--" Stan began, almost good-naturedly, and as absolutely leadingly as possible.

And Stan saw when Ford snapped and straight-up lost his temper with him. (Heh.)

"-- _I’m not going to punish **anyone else** for something **someone else** did!_" Ford yelled out at him, " _Bill_ or _otherwise!!_ \--What _part_ of this do you _not_ \--"

Stan was looking over at the kid as Ford got past the most important part of that, though, and--

(Ford was frustrated as hell that his brother was needling him on this point, as if Stan thought that if he asked him the same thing enough times, that he would somehow change his mind! His morals were _not_ something that simply changed on a whim! And-- Stan was _smiling_ and **not** even **looking** at him--! _What_ was he--?!)

And Stan knew when his brother had gotten frustrated at him and looked over at what he was looking at, too, because that was when Ford’s voice cut off.

Because the kid was staring at them expressionless, white as a sheet, and he was shivering slightly in place.

Stan was smiling.

He’d known it. He was _right_. ~~(Mirrors, reflections, games; all of it.)~~ Because yeah, the kid had been _enjoying_ \-- (Stan pulled in a breath, held it all) watching Ford suffer earlier. (Stan let it out again.) ...Kid had been mad at Ford since forever. --But he hadn’t been _that_ deadly-killer mad at Ford _until Ford had said_ \--

...The kid hadn’t dropped his ‘helping’ thing for Ford right away, once he’d gotten his head screwed back on straight after all his deals were off. He didn’t do things that would screw himself over if he could help it. And he’d been pretty mad then, sure, but not mad enough to pull the trigger on this. Not then.

Not until Ford had pushed him to _that_ specific point, later. Denying the kid’s brother’s existence.

...which meant that the kid really had had a _reason_ to keep it going up until that point, up until Ford had pissed him off so badly that the demon-kid had decided himself that taking the hit was worth it.

~~(And Stan was pretty sure now, what it was. What the kid had just hit himself with, when he’d tried doing this ‘disconnecting’ thing with Ford -- or as close to it as the demon could get, with any of them who were one of ‘his Zodiac’.)~~

Ford was alive because he hadn’t threatened Bill’s dead brother outright. If Ford had, he probably would be, agreement or not, Stan’s brother or not, _Zodiac_ or not. Stan didn’t get everything about the kid yet, but he knew enough to know _some_ things already, about how the kid thought and approached shit like this.

Bill had thought that Ford -- that _anyone_ \-- would go after his brother as a weak spot, if they knew about him; as an easy target to hurt _him_. And Stan was pretty sure now, after a lot of the things the kid had said, and what the kid had said he could do, that the kid was eventually, at some point, planning on...

And Stan had just handed the triangle demon the biggest ‘get out of jail free’ card from Ford that the demon could possibly get, for this ‘Liam’ of his. (Because the demon _didn’t_ know his brother at all, and _hadn’t_ been willing to risk--)

And Stan had made sure that it was covered completely for the kid, too. The kid probably thought that Ford had thought that Stan had been thinking about _Miz_ , when they’d each said what they had. (Stan knew better ~~and so would Ford, once he thought about it for more than two seconds while he was mad as hell with him and ‘not gonna take it anymore’~~ \-- but that hardly mattered, because Ford had made the main point of the whole thing really freaking crystal clear anyway, and…)

"You’ve got no excuses left now, kid," Stan told him. "You know what I want you to do."

"I--" the kid said shakily, as his torso bobbed slightly in place. "I--" It didn’t look like he was doing it on purpose, exactly; he looked more like he was _stuck_ than anything.

"I want you to do this for me, kid," Stan repeated. "It’ll help me out." And the kid had promised him _any_ help he asked for, while they were here. (So either the kid was gonna talk back to him _again_ now, or…)

Stan watched carefully, and he saw how the kid went a little glassy-eyed for a split-second there, and started to almost fall-forward. ...But it was more of a bobbing motion towards Stan. ...Until the kid seemed to catch himself, _just barely_ , and pull himself back away from him again.

And the kid looked frustrated, as he backed off again, putting his back back-up against the wall behind him.

Ford was sitting there, staring at this, next to him.

...Yeah, Stan was pretty sure he had the kid’s number, now. --The kid really had shot himself in the foot with this one, bein’ all stubborn and angry and spiteful. Demon-kid had decided the hit just might be worth it, so he’d gone ahead with it and done it anyway. Even though that had meant…

... _losing what **he’d** been getting from Ford in return_. Because the kid didn’t _give_ anything without _getting_ something back. Not now; not ever. And Stan was starting to get an idea of maybe what that thing was. What the demon-kid had been getting outta Ford that _he_ might’ve…

"You need him," Stan told the kid.

"NN _nno_ , I don’t," said the kid, still bobbing in place, looking half-untethered.

"Yeah, you do, kid," Stan said. "I can tell. Maybe you think you don’t, but you do." He pulled in a breath, and let it out slowly. "Just go ahead and _do it_ , already."

And Stan waited.

And the kid _smiled_.

And then the kid let out that weird clicky sort-of giggle of his.

And he said, in an odd sort of tone, " _I can’t_."

Stan stared.

The kid let out another odd giggle again. "I can’t do it."

Stan frowned and opened his mouth to say--

"--I can’t do it alone," the kid said next, like it was just slipping right out of him again.

Stan let out a breath. ...Hell. That wasn’t-- Not a ‘no’, just a ‘being stupid’.

"What do you need to do it?" Stan said, pulling off outward-calm because he really could at this point.

The demon-kid was blinking and looking between them. (Ford was staying silent throughout all this.) "More than _just_ …" The kid’s eyes drooped lower, and he looked tired.

...Great. "This a Zodiac thing to _fix_ the Zodiac thing? --’Course it is." Stan said, or the kid wouldn’t have brought up the Valentino kid as a possible ‘solution’ as part of keeping Ford from having those nightmares. Stan frowned as he chewed over this. "You need the whole circle for this?"

"Maybe," said the triangle demon. ...Not evasively; hell, the kid _actually_ wasn’t sure.

"C’mon," Stan said. "You gotta at least try." He let out a grumpy old man sigh; hey, he was allowed. "So how do we--"

Stan stopped, and blinked. Because the kid hadn’t even said anything, he’d just slid forward on the bunk, and…

Stan looked down at the kid’s hand, that had just slid into his own.

"Okay…" Stan said. Apparently holding hands really _was_ a thing for most of this Zodiac-stuff.

Stan looked over at his brother, and lifted a hand to place it on his shoulder.

He gave Ford an almost-sorry look, because he knew how hard this was gonna be for him, his brother doing anything close to something like shaking hands with the demon for this.

Ford grimaced, and he looked like he was seriously considering some form of mutiny, despite what he’d told Stan earlier.

(C'mon, Ford. You can do this.)

And Stan watched as Ford pulled in a breath…

...and followed through on the ‘unpredictable thing’ he was doin’ for him, putting a hand on Stan’s own shoulder, too, and using it as a brace to sit himself up a bit more upright.

Ford not-quite glared at Bill, as he slowly held out his hand towards him.

And Bill did the same.

And Ford moved his hand forward slowly...

And Bill did as well...

And then Ford flinched, reflexively raising and pulling his hand back again--

\--and the demon-kid _lowered_ and moved _his_ hand back again, too, just as quickly as Ford had. _Just_ as quickly.

Stan watched his brother stop, and blink at this.

...and then move his hand forward ...and back ...and forward and back. And stop and frown. And then move his hand side to side, in little bits and starts...

...and watch the kid do the exact mirrored-opposite motions as he was doing, all the while.

( _Yeah, Ford. **Mirroring.** ...What, you thought I was lyin’ to ya about the kid?_)

Stan watched this, and managed to keep his grumpy face going (because hell, watching the two of ‘em go at it with each other should _not_ be this funny), and _finally_ , Ford frowned a little more deeply, and seemed to settle on a sort-of over-under forearm-clasp with the kid.

And then the kid closed his eyes and they all lit up blue.

Stan heard Ford gasp out loud.

And then the kid let go of him (and Ford) about a second later, pulling away from them both.

"It work?" Stan said, though he was already pretty sure that the answer was--

"Yes," said the demon-kid. His breathing seemed to be a little faster than it had been before. (So was Ford’s, weirdly enough.)

Stan watched as the kid half-hunched, half-rotated his shoulders for a second, then let out a huff.

"You both gonna be feeling better, now?" Stan asked him blandly next.

The kid looked up at him, eyes a bit hard and a _lot_ more-- what Stan was used to seeing outta the kid, really. More _there_.

(Yeah. He’d thought so. ~~Probably better that this had happened _here_ , instead of back home where--~~)

And the kid said, "That Stanford’s nightmares should stay under again. I am _NOT_ doing any more than that." The kid sounded tense, and there was that undercurrent of anger there (probably because Stan had asked him about how _he_ was feelin’, too), but… yeah. Kid was still angry about Ford saying he didn’t have a brother, but...

Kid had the next best thing to a ‘get out of jail free for having a demon as a brother’ card, now. _With Ford_. (Y’know, the guy who they all knew was still trying to find a way to kill him dead?) ...And the kid had it now, when the kid had thought Ford would want to go after his brother (one way or the other) for stuff that _he_ had done before, if and when Ford realized that this ‘Liam’ guy was a thing. ...Yeah. That _had_ to go a long way. ...Or at least a _little_ way with the kid.

(Hey, it was a start.)

"Good," said Stan. "That was all I was askin’ for, there." And he ~~didn’t even feel like punching the kid too badly when he~~ followed that up with a final, "Thanks, kid."

"Tch," went the kid, as he shoved himself up and off of the bunk’s mattress.

Stan glanced over at his brother as the kid moved off, and… his brother wasn’t just breathing a little faster; he looked like he was having a little trouble breathing again, but… uh, more out of some kind of shock than anything else. Not some stupid dream-thing ~~that the kid had screwed with his brother enough to give him in the first place~~ this time, or whatever.

"Ford, you okay?" Stan asked him.

"I-- that--" Yeah, his brother was definitely all shell-shocked and junk all-right. "--That was like the _circle!_ " Ford exclaimed, looking alarmed and sounding kind of… off. (And he was staring down at his hands for some reason.)

"Uh, yeah?" said Stan. What, his brother hadn’t been expecting that?

"Only _stronger!_ " Ford said, jerking his head up to look at him.

"Uh, _yeah?_ " said Stan, because really… "Ford, what were you expectin’ here?"

Ford turned to him and stared.

"What?" Stan said. The kid had practically confirmed it was a Zodiac thing a bunch of times there, when Stan had been asking. So what was Ford gettin’ all weird about?

"Didn’t you _feel_ that?" Ford said, half-hysterically, and Stan was starting to wonder...

"Uh, **yeah?** " Stan said. (Hadn’t felt that different from the circle-thing before, and not too different from the ‘anchor’ thing he had going with the kid, either -- though he hadn’t felt that really more than a couple times now from the kid, and only barely when he had. Kid was bein’ _real_ careful with things there, not wanting him to get any more of a handle on that one. Not that the kid was being all that stupid there, considering.)

Stan looked on at his brother’s expression and sighed.

"Ford, what’s the problem, here?" He eyed his brother. "We’re all part of that Zodiac thing, right?" Ford knew that...

" _Bill isn’t!!_ " Ford exclaimed, pulling himself inwards and away from Stan slightly, and looking a little freaked out, his hands clutched in close to his chest.

And Stan just… couldn’t help but stare at him.

"Ford, he’s _right_ in the freaking _middle_ of the whole thing, yeah?" Stan told his brother with exasperation. Because really, Ford, what the hell…?

"What part of **‘you are all MINE’** do you people _not get?_ " Stan heard the triangle demon grouse out at them, halfway to the door.

"We aren’t _yours!_ " Ford said, swiveling his head over towards hi, eyes-wide and looking like he was jumping straight from some kind of weird-ass panic (over nothing that Stan could see, and) straight into some kind of denial.

"YES YOU ARE," Bill told them both, turning around in the doorway to face them, looking and sounding more than a little incensed. "The stupid lizard _made_ you all **FOR ME**."

And with that parting shot sent, the triangle turned away and slammed the door to the cabin shut behind him.

Stan eyed the door. Then, he called out (mostly directed through the porthole window in the cabin that was open, still), "Get some more sleep, kid. You’re _way_ too grouchy."

Then, Stan turned back to his brother.

...who looked like he might be having some kinda existential crisis going on.

"We… we aren’t… We-- we weren't _made_ for… for..." Ford said slowly, looking three kinds of messed up for some reason.

Stan sighed, and rubbed the back of his beck.

"Ford, the kid’s literally older than _dirt_ ," he reminded his brother. "He thinks _math_ is his." The kid was nuts. ~~(Why did Ford keep on listening to him so much? He didn’t have to. --And he sure as hell didn’t have to take him seriously. So why couldn’t he...)~~ "Just… let it _go_."

"I…" Ford didn’t really look any better, still pretty damn frazzled.

"Ford, the kid might not be lying, but that _doesn’t_ mean he’s right," Stan reminded his brother patiently.

And he waited.

"...Right," Ford said after awhile, lowering his hands slowly. "Yes. ...Of course."

Stan sighed and shook his head a bit.

"Look," Stan told his brother, who looked up at him slowly. "Maybe you should get a little more sleep, too. Yeah?"

~~~~"I… suppose I... could…"~~~~ Ford said quietly, as he slowly began to relax in place.

"Hey, it’s what _I’m_ plannin’ on doin’, bein’ a grunkly old man and all," Stan told his brother good-naturedly, and he waited until Ford looked up at him with a slight smile, "Eh? _Eh?_ " as an answer to Stan’s own one.

Stan patted his brother on the shoulder and got up from the bunk, planning on shuffling over the few feet, to go right back to his own.

(And he did. But Stan didn’t fall asleep again himself until he heard the rustle of covers in the other bunk settle, and his brother’s quiet breathing even out.)

~~(It didn’t take long but, to Stan, it felt like it maybe took longer than it should.)~~

\---

Meanwhile, Miz was wandering around the beach, having gotten herself a bit of breakfast in the ocean and was taking this time to clean up the beach. So many glass shards. So much trash. It was awful to look at. So she was cleaning up. There was no way she’d be able to get it all by hand, but she wasn’t in the mood to use her powers for this. She was still feeling out the churning energy beneath her skin, it was a light tingle. Not uncomfortable, yet. Being bound down in a vessel like this generally made the feeling more noticable. Actually...

Miz relaxed and let her physical form fall away. She _stretched_ herself out and sighed. Really, this dimensional set felt so different. Everything was heavy. Contained. Restricted. Like the rules here were stricter. The AXOLOTL here must have set more limitations. Miz hadn’t realized how much freedom her dad had really given her. She floated around in the Mindscape, relaxed and spread out so that her energy was free to buzz about without causing her any discomfort. She was pretty content right now. She’d gotten her breakfast by stealing some fish from the local fishing boats, that was enough to make her powers thrum cheerfully.

So… the karma system huh? Made sense. Miz remembered her brother had mentioned it once before, during their chats over the blog. She twisted herself, buzzing somewhat as she floated along. Had she wasted enough time yet? Could she return to the boat yet?

She sighed, shifting again, a he now. He flowed around, lazily Looking around, he could Feel everything. The underpinnings of this dimension. How it was built, how it was put together… how old, or rather, not old it was.

"This Ax really created an entire new dimension just from…" Bill mumbled to himself. Well, MizBill. That would differentiate him from his big brother. Eh… having the same name was hard, wasn’t it?

MizBill sighed. He glanced up and wondered how long he was going to stay here. He loved being with his brother. But he missed home. Missed his friends and children. MizBill shook his head. It… it’s fine. His friends and children were fine, he’ll make his way back to them eventually. MizBill wondered if he could possibly bring his brother home with him. There had to be some way to do that...

...not forever, of course. MizBill hummed. Stan was… good for brother. Well, sort of. Stan obviously had his own plans for what he wanted with brother, but MizBill thought that despite that, it was more good than bad.

Even if Stan didn’t want Bill.

MizBill sighed. He could tell. Even if Stan said he wanted Bill, it didn’t mean he _wanted_ him. Stan DID want Bill, but not in the way Bill thought...

But that was fine. MizBill felt his form twist, if he had a body right now, he’d be smiling. Even if Stan didn’t truly _want_ Bill right now, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t eventually learn to want him. Humans pack bonded to just about anything. Especially if they were familiar. And if Bill and Stan were going to be spending time together (possibly eternity, if what MizBill was picking up was correct) then Stan would just start wanting Bill eventually.

And it was all fine anyway. Stan was teaching brother, and teaching MizBill as well! And Stan was a good man. He wasn’t perfect, but he was good for them. He helped them, on things that they didn’t understand. And, well, that meant that he and his brother were using Stan to help them, just as Stan was using them. So, fair’s fair and it was all fine.

MizBill curled around in the air and wondered if things on the boat were okay now. He floated over to glance at it and saw Bill going back to flop down on the blankets. Ah, that should be fine then.

"Little sis!" Bill called out, on his back in the blanket-pillow pile, all his limbs splayed out haphazardly from his sides as he stared up at the slowly lightening sky. "I am done with Stanley’s thing now!"

MizBill floated down, pulling himself back together into a more solidly defined mass of energy.

Bill looked up, and saw his sister, and smiled.

"What did Stan want?" MizBill asked, thrumming and humming as he settled onto the blankets, not quite ready to craft a new vessel yet.

"Mm," said Bill, rubbing his left hand against the side of his head, near his left temple. "Wanted me to start doing some of the thing again, that I didn’t want to do." He half-shifted, half- _twisted_ in place a bit as he explained this, like he was trying to settle properly inside his own skin.

Oh? "Was it an annoying thing?" MizBill asked, twisting their tendrils of energy and light around as they pulled themselves back in some more.

Bill rolled over onto his side, to face him(? --bowtie meant ‘him’, yes?) and let out a sigh. "Yes. No." Bill pulled a slight face. "It’s a _necessary_ thing," he said a good bit more lowly, then added -- almost under his breath, because the porthole window behind him was open -- "I shouldn’t have stopped doing the thing…" (Because, annoyingly, it had been more ‘necessary’ than he’d thought. --For _that Stanford_ , at least. _And_ for Stanley to not be getting angry enough with him to hit him _maybe_... which _maybe_ could have still worked out, too...)

Bill frowned.

MizBill hummed, finally condensing himself back into a physical form, falling onto the soft pillows in his William form, a large single eye blinking at his brother. "Are you okay? Doing the thing again didn’t hurt you or anything, did it?"

"No," said Bill. "It didn’t hurt me." And then he blinked at William slowly.

"...You _DO_ know what ‘thing’ I am talking about, _right?_ " Bill said to his little sister, eyeing him.

"I didn’t Look to See what you were doing. I figured Stan wanted some privacy for whatever it was he wanted me to go away while he talked to you for." William blinked slowly. "I did feel a shift in energy again. I could probably make a guess as to what you did."

Bill sighed. He should have just said he wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

"I reconnected a bit more strongly to that Stanford again," he said, sounding irritated and... also not.

William rolled onto his side, pulling Iseblonker back to his chest. "Well, how are you feeling?"

"Better than I was," Bill told him under his breath -- which, as far as he was concerned, was the IRRITATING THING! --He didn’t _need_ that Stanford! No! (...And yet...)

Bill let out a huff of breath, and grabbed the nearest pillow, to bite it into submission (it only took TWO angry-bites this time; a record!) and then **squeeze** it with his stupid human-ish fingernail-’claws’ very strongly. He glared out over it, kicking his feet against the blankets around him slightly, before slumping down against the flat of the blanket-covered deck all-at-once. "Nnn-nn."

William shuffled closer. "You know, sometimes, even if we don’t like someone, they might still be worth something, to have them with you." William said softly. "I’ve had a few clients like that. People I didn’t like, but wanted on my side for various reasons."

"-- _I know that!_ " Bill said to him, then scoffed. " _A few_ clients. HA." As far as Bill was concerned, that was EVERYONE ~~except Liam and--~~.

William shrugged. "I’ve had some clients I actually liked. A few are even friends." Speaking of which, it’d been a while since he’d got to visit Queen, should go do that.

Bill grumbled to himself, as he curled ‘finger claws’ into the pillow a bit more, uncurled and curled them again, and...

"I have plenty of friends who are like that; I like them," Bill told him. Well, except for Kryptos, who was annoying, but still useful, and still a friend. He’d also had plenty of friends who he didn’t like who were useful, and a few friends and worshippers here and there that weren’t all that useful, but who he had still liked. But the one thing they all had in common was that…

"They NEVER last, though." Bill frowned. Because, sooner or later, they always turned on him. --And yes, his latest Henchmaniacs gang was a little different, sure; they’d gone on longer than ANY of the others before them, but _IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME…_

"That’s sad. Not having them last. Sounds lonely." William stretched to get more comfortable. They had a few more hours before they should get up for school. For a second, he wanted to skip, the nest was so comfortable, he didn’t really want to get up. But they had school, he had to watch the kids and make sure they didn’t skip, and then they were doing the dragon plan after school.

"I’m not lonely!" declared Bill. "Define: ‘lonely’." He bet he wasn’t, whatever William thought it was. (His sister had strange definitions for things sometimes -- and they weren’t always old-human definitions, either!)

"...wanting to have someone by your side, but not having anyone." William said. "Or missing someone who you want by your side, but they’re not there."

"Mm." WELL. Bill wanted to have Liam by his side, but he had Miz! And Stanley. And his Henchmaniacs! --So he wasn’t the first one of those. The _second_ one, though...

"So," Bill said, "Stanley and that Stanford are oh-so- _lonely_ by your second ‘define’," Bill said, "Because Pine Tree and Shooting Star aren’t here with them!" That didn’t sound right. Stanley had that Stanford, and that Stanford had Stanley. _Twins together were never alone._ \--This DEFINITELY wasn’t a human definition; it must be Miz’s own personal one. (Bill made a note of that.)

"...they just don’t realize it, probably." William blinked. "I’m sure Stan misses the kids, he’s just too busy dealing with this other set of kids to really think about it."

"HM," said Bill. "Then it’s good that we’ll all be going back soon," Bill noted, as he let go of the pillow, and settled down into the blankets a bit better, in a way more conducive for sleeping. (School was hours-away, and he was tired, and he wanted more sleep! So he would sleep more-again-soon.)

"Yeah. Dipper’s gonna have a panic attack if we don’t get their grunkles back to them." William sighed. "Can’t believe Mabel tried to grapple hook through the portal." He saw that Bill’s eyes were already drooping. He must be tired. William made a note to cook a nice, hearty breakfast for his brother in a few hours.

"Need to get that for her," Bill noted, in a half-mumble. "Shooting Star _will_ want it back." She’d only lost a few feet off of it; she could just remove the short-end rope piece from the hook, and tie the hook back to what was left on the other side and still attached to the grappling gun.

"I grabbed it." William said. He’d found it while he was cleaning the beach earlier. How the heck no one had thought to pick up and move that dangerous sharp object was just more proof to him that the humans here didn’t give a shit about the litter.

"Good," Bill said, "Thank you." And then he let out a long, slow breath in something that was almost a sigh.

"You should sleep more-again too," Bill told her, as he shoved the bitten-pillow away, and shifted in place a bit.

"Okay." William closed his eye and wiggled over to press against his brother. "I’ll make a nice breakfast in a few hours…" He relaxed. "...you know I had the weirdest dream about a table. He was a person and PaciFire’s eyebrows were dating the Federation…" His breathing slowed as he drifted off to sleep.

Bill smiled. He let out a soft ‘hummmm’ of acknowledgment, and he fell back asleep again pretty quickly after that. (After all, William was warm, and Bill knew where his little sister was -- there with him, and safe because of it.)

\---

Lee was a little intimidated by the amount of food in front of them. "Ah… did you… make all this?" he asked the weird looking yellow cyclops creature sitting in front of him who _had_ to be Miz.

The cyclops nodded at him. "I made it for all of you. But if you don’t want it, then I can eat the extras."

Stan shrugged. "And if you don’t wanna eat William’s cooking, I’m gonna be making some eggs and bacon." He’d asked what the younger demon wanted to be called in this form (since he hadn’t really memorized the names-spiel the first time Miz had said it), and they’d responded with ‘William’ -- which, y’know, made Ford pretty annoyed (because what didn’t these days), but Stan didn’t care either way. He was already frying up some bacon, shoving a plate of sunny-side-up eggs at his brother.

"I made some roasted carrots and potatoes with some spicy pepper sauce, for brother --" William pointed at the bowl that Bill was already digging into, "-- and some omelettes stuffed with the remaining carrots and potatoes for you." He grinned. "And diced sausages. Since at least you guys eat meat."

Sixer took the offered plate and sat down to eat. "It’s delicious, like everything else you make," he made it a point to tell the younger demon after only one mouthful, which had William turning orange and looking both pleased and embarrassed.

Ford ate what Stan made. Lee couldn’t help but take one of the omelettes, despite all the glaring from the old-man Sixer. --What? It looked good. It _smelled_ even better. And he’d already eaten the demon’s cooking during lunch a few times already with nothing bad happening, not even a stomach ache, so hey, he was inclined to just eat the yummy food and be done with it. No sense in letting it go to waste here! (And with the way the dragon-lady ate stuff like she had a black hole in her stomach, Lee figured leaving it all for her to eat _would_ be a waste.)

Breakfast was a pretty quiet affair, with the older Ford sending all sorts of weird long unreadable looks at the two demons that Lee couldn’t really decipher, and everybody else being too busy eating to really talk that morning. It worried Lee a little bit, but he didn’t get to ask about it as he, his brother, and the demons had to finish up quickly and rush out the door, making their way to school.

...Look, good tasting food was good tasting food. Lee wasn’t knocking it. He just wanted to know why the older Sixer _would_. He hadn’t really explained it before, just said not to do it (and sounded a little crazy as he yelled it out there). And the way he’d been looking at Bill today at breakfast...

\---

There were even more whispers around the school Friday morning.

Miz, in her teenage female form for real this time (having changed back on the walk to school), told Lee not to worry about it. "Besides, once you two become monster hunters, there’ll be even MORE whispering." Ah, well… Lee was sure she told him that to make him feel better, but it didn’t really make Lee feel any better. He _did_ want to be a monster hunter, sure! But... he kind of worried about what would happen in school if he _did_ manage to pull it off after school today with his brother.

Actually... ‘monster hunter’ was probably a cooler thing than ‘alien baby sitter’, so...

And it was really weird, but... despite all the rumors and whispering and junk, Lee was surprised to see that school was almost… _normal_ today. Nobody was really treating him or Sixer any differently than they had the week before -- other than, y’know, all the whispering, and them also having two girls hanging around with them now. And the demons were super weird as always, but it almost seemed like everyone had… gotten used to it? --Heck, the most outrageous thing that happened today was Miz spotting Ben in the halls and waving to him with a cheerful "Hi Ben!" which got the poor guy blushing profusely and walking into a wall. Lee noted that he still had that violin.

...And a bunch of other boys ran up to Ben to grill him for information about why the ‘hot one’ was talking to him.

Lee didn’t really get it.

What Lee did realize was _why_ Ben carried the violin with him everywhere, never letting it leave his sight -- it was because when he was carrying it, the boys around him weren’t really able to get all that close; not close enough to touch him, _or_ grab him. The violin was even glowing softly, so faint that Lee wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't been looking for it. It almost looked like that magic barrier thingie that Miz had placed over him and Sixer.

Lee looked over at her, wondering if she knew… and Miz commented absently, "He gets picked on a lot. But I kinda like him so he gets a small Blessing."

Bill turned to his sister. "For free?" he asked, frowning slightly. (He was worried about her karmic backlash problem.)

Miz scoffed. "Naw, he entertained me. That’s payment enough." (Bill let out a short breath upon hearing this.)

Sixer glanced between the two of them. "Payment?"

Bill sighed, looking a little annoyed as he said (almost dourly), "Karma system," thinking over the list of stuff Miz had written down about her issues. There WERE a lot of problematic things there, Bill had to admit -- and they _WOULD_ work on all of them! -- but mainly, it looked like at least half of Miz’s written-down problems stemmed from the fact that she seemed to be plugged into the Karma system directly. And right now, as a part of that, she _needed_ payment in exchange for things she did _for_ people, in order to avoid ‘direct retribution’ things like the _itching_.

Miz had told him and Stanley yesterday that she could skirt around the issue sometimes by having her own ‘selfish’ justifications for doing things. Like turning all the cafeteria slop into ‘real’ food being more because _she_ wanted the kids to eat better food -- more for herself and her own beliefs on the matter -- than for the kids themselves. And also, because was fun. Cooking was fun for her, which was another ‘selfish’ thing.

When Bill had tossed up a perception filter to mask their conversation (and her current-form and then subsequent body-shift) on the walk to school that morning, and questioned her a little further on the issue, Miz had told him a little more about it, too. Miz had stated that her ‘good’ and ‘bad’ levels were always shifting. She’d explained that her powers felt more comfortable to her on the ‘bad’ side, but that she was able to sort of get a more balanced and closer to neutral equilibrium somewhat, if she tried. And what counted as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for her seemed to change depending explicitly on her own intent at the time she was using her powers.

In Miz’s on words, this was why sometimes she could get away with a lot of stuff that helped people without it counting as something ‘good’, and then causing her powers to rile up uncomfortably. ("Like feeding the homeless -- you know that’s apparently against the law? So I’m being really _bad_ when I make sure they don’t starve to death! Same thing for sheltering refugees!" --And that left Bill worried about what might happen if that Time Baby of hers realized this, and then decided to change all of the laws in all of the dimensions he had control over, all at once; all while she wasn’t Looking, or even _thinking_ to Look.)

Bill was mainly worried over his sister’s insistence that her powers were apparently sentient, though -- or at the very least, _different_ from her **own** conscious wants. Miz had mentioned to him something about how she would have random thoughts and urges to do things that weren’t always what she actually wanted to do.

"Like, I might suddenly think about how funny it would be to replace every carbon atom with an entire fish," she told them all (now filterless), as they sat down in homeroom together, waiting for the announcements to begin. "But then I realize that’s a stupid idea. And it would probably mess up a lot of the universe."

Lee stared. "What?" he asked, and Miz groaned.

"Well, fish are made of carbon," Miz explained. "So each of those carbon atoms would turn into a fish, which means more carbon, on and on, infinitely creating more fish, until all energy in that universe runs out because they could no longer continue…"

"Define ‘fish’," was the first thing Bill pointed out, because if ‘a fish’ was ‘a carbon atom’, then…

"Swimming animal I like to eat, it's made of carbon and other stuff already, though…" Miz sighed as Bill raised his eyebrows and started to _smile_ at her. "Well, yeah, redefining what makes a fish would work, though I’d have to rewrite what the molecular makeup of a fish was beforehand. But even if that was fixed, there are plenty of other things I’d have to fix and it would just be a waste of time and energy for what was ultimately a passing thought that wasn’t even all that important to me."

She huffed, folding her arms under her chest, unintentionally causing her breasts to be pushed up. "That’s why I don’t listen to all my random urges. I sometimes get one that I really want to do, but for the most part, I’m just ignoring them because they're not important."

"...Rrrrrrright. Well, that's good?" Lee scratched his head, a little disturbed by the whole 'turning everything into fish' thing, while Sixer seemed to be developing a headache at the idea of infinite fish.

Bill still didn’t like all of this ‘random urges’ talk (because did she really not realize…? _REALLY?_ ) -- but he was _also_ curious at this concept she seemed to be getting stuck on, because hadn’t she considered…? "Little sis, haven’t you ever looked at it _sideways_ before?"

Miz blinked. "Sideways as in?" she asked.

"Sideways," Bill said, "As in, sideways... recursion?" --Yeesh, twentieth-century American English just wasn’t cut out for this, was it? HA!

Bill thought for a moment, then tried to explain it a little more differently, with... "You have one fish. It has carbon atoms, which now need to be fish. You have a second fish. It is one of the ‘carbon atom replacements’ for the first fish. The second fish also has carbon atoms; the second fish needs a 'carbon atom replacement'," Bill said. "So you also have a _third_ fish. It is one of the ‘carbon atom replacements’ for the second fish." Then he grinned. "The third fish needs a ‘carbon atom replacement’. --The _first_ fish is a ‘carbon atom replacement’ for the third fish." He paused for a moment. "It is a little like the ‘left hand draws a left hand draws a left hand drawing the _first_ left hand’ [picture](https://www.mcescher.com/gallery/back-in-holland/drawing-hands/). Have you Seen [D.J. Escher’s work](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drawing_Hands)?" Bill asked, because he’d suggested _several_ acid trips to that artist upon summoning, and really, they’d worked out quite _terribly!_ \--Bill had been _very_ pleased.

"--You do three fish instead of two fish," Bill told her next, "Because the first fish cannot _easily_ be a ‘carbon atom replacement’ for the second fish, because the second fish is _directly_ a part of the first fish as the first fish’s ‘carbon atom replacement’. --It’s too close," Bill told her. "The folding-of-space LIKES a _little_ more ‘room to breathe', or it isn’t _quite_ as stable when other- **things** try to act on-and-upon it, and interact _with_ it. --You set up the space-folds a little like a [Mobius strip](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%B6bius_strip)," he told her, "But NOT like a Mobius strip _at all_. --Maybe more like a [Klein bottle](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klein_bottle), but also **not** like that at all EITHER." (...And this is why English was annoying and useless for explaining these things. The concepts just didn't translate properly AT ALL!)

Miz's eyes widened. "So just link the fish together so that they share their parts instead, therefore there wouldn't be infinite fish." That was brilliant. "But it would still end up turning people who are made of carbon into fish as well, and I don't think they would enjoy that."

"Yeah, no," Lee said to her quickly. "I like eating fish, not being fish!" He didn't want to get turned into some kind of _fish strip_. No way!

"You are what you eat," Bill said almost teasingly to Lee. "-- _Quite_ LITERALLY! --And _you_ ," Bill directed at his sister next, "Say _that_ like people who are made of carbon are carbon, or people who are made of water are water." And Bill gave her an odd look at that. "The whole is not _necessarily_ the subset-of-a-single-part-of-the-parts, when there is more than one subset of parts. --It USUALLY isn’t -- and that’s a good thing," he told her. "Things are _more INTERESTING_ that way!" (Bill really liked talking mechanics and mechanisms of rules with his little sister! But when they strayed off into philosophy? She really seemed to end up somewhere far off in the mud to _him_...)

Miz thought about it. "I know that say, a human, is not made entirely of carbon, but if the carbon parts of them got replaced by fish…"

"...And how do you keep people from suffocating when they don’t have oxygen to breathe without giving them oxygen to breathe, or changing their biology to not need oxygen or not need breathing?" Bill said leadingly. "--It’s the same thing. Change the rules so that having fish-replacements is fine," Bill shrugged off.

Miz thought about it some more. "I'd have to start a new dimension with those rules already in place. Suddenly changing that rule would probably distress the people that have carbon as part of their make up if they suddenly started sprouting fish."

"Hit pause; stop EVERYTHING -- not just a stop-time -- until you’re done changing things," Bill said, "And add two rules, not one! Second rule: no people ‘distress’ about carbon atoms being fish now."

"But wouldn't that mess with their free will?" Miz frowned. (Lee was rubbing his face, why was this conversation _still_ going on? --Heck, even _Sixer_ looked more disturbed than interested in the idea.)

"It depends on how you do it," Bill told her. "Change the _definition_ of the thing, and no-one will notice or care, with ‘free will’ being impacted not at all!" Bill told her cheerfully. "But... change the _outcome_ of the _thought processes_..." and Bill trailed off.

Miz thought about it, and then she turned to the twins. "Hypothetically, if I told you that you were supposed to be--"

"--No," Lee said, cutting her off immediately. "No changing stuff into fish. Nope. No. Not even a little, no."

Miz looked to Bill, who just shrugged at her.

...And then Bill turned his head and looked over at the twins, and grinned evilly.

"How do you _KNOW_ that your ‘carbon atoms’ didn’t USED TO BE fish, but that someone ALREADY CHANGED THEM OUT at some point, and you NEVER EVEN NOTICED?" the demon said to them almost sweetly.

"That’s not--" Sixer began, frowning, as Lee felt his expression drop. "That’s… not…"

"--Because wouldn’t all those FISH go together SO MUCH BETTER with all that WATER in there?" Bill said next, and his grin got _even wider_.

...Yup. Lee was definitely gonna have nightmares over this one. Probably. ~~(Especially with the way Miz liked to eat fish.)~~

Miz made it worse by teasing, "And how would you know that you haven't already BEEN changed so that you're the way you are now, when you were originally like… a girl or something?" She grinned even wider. "Or if maybe you two were originally conjoined twins? Or if you were originally a dog?" She’d read a fanfic about that once, where Stanley was a dog and Ford didn’t even HAVE a twin! "Or maybe that you didn’t even EXIST up until a few days ago~" she couldn’t help but add!

"--I would be an _awesome_ girl," was Lee’s no-nonsense response to _that_. "I would kick butt in hot pants and at boxing." He'd seen enough of how things went with the two demons over the last couple of days with their old-man selves. Nope, no, and no. -- _He_ wasn’t going down without a fight!

Lee sent a hard glance over to his twin, because this was _supposed_ to be Sixer's kind of nerdy-talk wheelhouse -- Sixer had _better_ deliver on his own nerdy thought-'punch' back!

"...I…" Sixer paused, readjusting his glasses and looking very unsure at the sudden and intense pressure he was receiving from his twin's gaze that he _didn't_ really understand why he was on the receiving end of, just then.

"I might have been… a butterfly… dreaming of being a human being… instead of originally a dog?" Sixer tried slowly. "And then got my wish?"

Miz nodded emphatically. "And you would never even knoooooow~" she sang out at them, smiling a bit _too_ widely for either of the twins’ comfort as she said it.

"Yup," said Lee, clapping his hands together once, with finality. "That’s right. We both coulda been conjoined butterflies with a _dream_ , or somethin’, and then got turned into humans. Over the bridge and under the rainbow. Poof! --Just like that. Yup. It was definitely that. --Good talk!"

Lee turned away to ignore the demons, but still found himself rolling his eyes at Miz’s next mischievous comment of, "You were pretty hot as a girl, just putting that out there." --Because, "Well, _yeah_." Of _course_ he would be hot as a girl! Why not? Wasn’t ‘being hot’ all part of the ‘being awesome’ package? Hadn’t the demon-dragon been listening? ...Or did she not think that being ‘hot’ was ‘awesome’ anymore?

...With the way her brother was ribbing her a little bit over her chest again after that 'hot' comment from her, and the blush she got at the ribbing, maybe it _was_ that second one. Which was weird, and kinda dumb. Having a huge chest wasn’t the be all and end all of a girl being hot. (...Was it? ~~I mean, y'know, it _shouldn't_ be. He hadn't been all head-over-heels for Carla just because of how she _looked_ , y'know! ...I mean, sure, it had _helped_ a lot, sure! Lee didn't want to date somebody who looked like they had resting dog-face. But Carla was a _really_ smart gal too! And--~~)

Still, the demons quieted down a bit after awhile, as the homeroom announcements came on over the intercom speakers, and Lee found his thoughts trailing off to a different subject too, one that Sixer was nervous about as well:

_\--The plan today after school._ There were so many ways it could go wrong. The older Stan had come up with a bunch of suggestions and stuff to help them out, first. And Bill had talked his sister through multiple layers of protections she had to put on, and a couple changes to the 'technical details' of stuff later, sure. And this had all been 'okay’ed by the older Stan first, _and_ a grumbly Bill later…

...And ultimately they'd gone with something that was much safer for everybody involved that everybody had been sort-of okay with. (Except the old-Sixer, who wasn’t even gonna be there, because he was just gonna get in the way and want to shoot things if he did. ...Because apparently Sixer would get all stuffy-responsible and super more-careful in his old age about stuff like this… ~~which Lee was kinda actually looking _forward_ to…~~)

And the old-man him was gonna be there, looking out for them, ready to jump in as kind of a ‘safety net’, too. If they really needed it… Well, Lee wanted to prove that they didn’t need it. (Plus, if the old-man him jumped in, _Bill_ might end up jumping in, too, and _that_ would be…)

Miz was excited for it. (Sixer was just as eager, though he did notice Miz was still acting a little… less affectionately with him than she had before, apparently still somewhat upset at him for touching her inappropriately the previous afternoon. This had resulted in the girl sticking closer to Lee now, instead of him.)

...Sixer looked over at Miz and tried not to feel a little ~~sad, irritated, jealous~~ upset that Miz didn’t even want to sit in a chair, or at a table, right next to him anymore. Not at the boat, not in the galley-kitchen, and not even here now at school. Sixer’s hands twitched in his lap. He hadn’t thought it would be this… uncomfortable, to have a girl who had once liked him then shun him; he was used to it from other girls, and this shouldn’t have been any different from what he felt from anyone else, but...

They all (demons and twins) got through homeroom (again) without incident, and made their way through the hallways (also without incident) to their first class of the day, but then...

"OH. Oh, HELL NO!" Bill exclaimed, as they all walked into their Physics class and--

Lee’s mouth dropped open in pure disbelief as he stared at the guy at the front of the classroom, leaning up against the chalkboard with his arms crossed in front of him. (No. _way._ \--Was _he_ supposed to be their _teacher_ for the day?!?!)

"What are you doing here?" Miz asked, blinking, as the older Stanford Pines straightened up and away from the chalkboard (which had his name written on it in chalk), looking over at the group of them with not quite a glare.

Ford let out a huff of breath.

"You’re blocking the classroom door," Ford told them, not too happy to be there himself. He’d been _planning_ on largely watching them all from the adjoining rooftop that the day, not… _this!_ But--

\---

_"Stanford!" the man called out from below him. "Stanford Pines!"_

_Ford winced slightly. He’d been lax; he’d gotten used to being able to sit out in the open on the rooftops here a few nights ago, due to Bill’s precautions (damn him), and now he'd (rather embarrassingly)_ forgotten _to take_ any _of the proper precautions that morning, as a result._

_(Though, quite frankly, it shouldn’t have been an issue. He couldn’t_ remember _the last time that he or Stan had looked up at the sky during the daytime, once they’d entered high school, let alone started the twelfth grade.)_

_He ducked down a bit, and rolled back away from the roof’s edge, in the vague (and quite probably futile and non-existent) hope that, maybe, perhaps…?_

_"Stanford Filbrick Pines," he heard called out below him -- closer than before -- and Ford winced. "I mean,_ really _," he heard the man call out. "To think that one of my star pupils from another dimension wouldn’t even give me the time of day--"_

_"That is_ not _how it works, Mr. Har--" Ford began to complain before biting his lip, then smacking a hand over his face. --Good lord, **why**. Just, why. ~~(No. He knew why.)~~_

_He closed his eyes and ran it down his face next, because he knew, just_ knew _, that he was getting_ smiled at _from down--_

_"_ Really _, Mr. Pines," was what Ford heard next, in good-natured tones, from below. "Or should I say Dr. Pines, now? --I don’t suppose you could come down here for a moment, so that we could continue this discussion of ours, face-to-face?"_

_Ford opened his eyes, stared up at the sky, and for one very long moment, he wanted to disappear forever into the roof of that building._

_...He had no reason to be embarrassed about any of this, Ford told himself, as he got up and made his way back over to the edge of the roof. This was a natural reaction to any teacher at any age; he’d seen this happen in many other dimensions beyond this one. It_ wasn’t _his fault. (He_ swore _that the schools of the multiverse taught that_ exact same tone of voice _to teachers-in-training everywhere, as some sort of universal constant that rivaled the ubiquity of weirdness itself…)_

_He jumped off of the roof at the corner closest to the nearest alleyway to the teacher, and hopped, swung, and somersaulted himself down, kicking off of the nearby and opposite walls as he decelerated himself to almost a standstill, before dropping the rest of the way down -- his motion due to gravity being forestalled enough that he wasn’t going to damage his knees in the final eight-feet’s-worth of drop._

_He still did a rolling tumble at the end of it, coming to his feet again as his own natural momentum lend him the necessary force to do so most easily._

_The teacher was smiling at him._

_"Well," said Mr. Harman (who was also a Dr., having his own doctorate). "That was a rather impressive display of the use of the laws of physics to your own advantage; I applaud you," the teacher grinned. "I expect that ‘other me’ must have done a very good job of teaching you the basics."_

_...Oh Axolotl, he’d been baited._ Of course _the man had understood the explanation he’d been given of alternate dimensions; he wasn’t stupid. He’d said what he had_ deliberately _in order to ~~coax~~ goad him into responding, and then..._

_...Ford blinked as he looked the (young) man (who was maybe half his age) over._

_Because Mr. Harman looked… almost normal. And..._

_...This was_ not _what he was used to seeing, as a result of Bill’s direct interference with someone, after their ‘enlightenment’. ~~Had Stan really managed to…?~~_

_"Was there something you needed of me?" Ford asked his old teacher’s dimensional duplicate -- then nearly cursed himself in the very next breath, because he wasn’t entirely sure that--_

_"Hm. An interesting question," the teacher said to him. "Well, I_ might _... But I do have a question for you first, if I may." Ford blinked at him._

_"Of course," Ford said, despite himself. ~~Despite the fact that this was highly nonstandard, and he wasn’t entirely certain if his talking to him now might help or hurt more, and--~~_

_"What were you doing up on that rooftop just now?"_

_Ah. Ford tried not to wince. "Well, Mr. Hatmsn, you see…"_

_...and Ford contemplated trying to lie, right up until he got that very_ patiently _waiting **look** from him, that Mr. Harman had _generally _used to reserve for his_ brother _..._

_Ford clenched his jaw._

_And after a moment, he replied, "...I was planning on surveilling the demons from the adjoining rooftops today."_

_"Hm. I see," said the teacher. "Why?"_

_...Ford would rather be having_ his teeth pulled out with the current state of technology in this dimension _than having to continue to be standing here answering these questions, he swore._

_"Because neither of those demons should be attending school today," Ford told him. ‘Or ever.’_

_The teacher gave him a slight frown. "Then why didn’t you keep them out of school today, at the boat where you’re staying?" he was asked, frustratingly reasonably._

_"...Because Stan wants them in school today," Ford said slowly._

_"Mmhmm. I see." And, rather terribly, Ford had the sinking suspicion that Mr. Harman maybe_ did _, in fact,_ see.

_"So, if you’ll excuse me--" Ford began, trying not to sound like he was in as much of a hurry as he truly was (no, he did_ not _think or feel as though he could get detention for this, that was a silly thing to say!), as he turned away from the teacher..._

_"...Actually, one moment," Mr. Harman said, stopping Ford in place. (Ford tried not to wince, as he closed his eyes for a moment, then turned back to him.) "Might I ask another question of you?"_

_"...Yes," said Ford ~~(as he started to wonder if this was some new torture of Bill’s that he’d managed to concoct with the teacher yesterday, at school, at some point, behind every single one of their backs)~~._

_"Exactly how well can you see any of the students from up there, on that rooftop of yours, that you’ve selected, when they are all inside the school?" he was asked, and for some reason..._

_Ford blinked, as he looked at Mr. Harman, and realized that the teacher actually sounded_ concerned _._

_"Ah," said Ford, because actually... "Not very well, I’m afraid." He would be much better off surveillance-wise if he’d had even half of his usual dimension-travelling gear with him, "But I can make do." And he wasn’t about to bring any of the specifics of_ that _up in the moment, right now. That was the sort of conversation one saved for a much longer time, and the school day was about to start shortly--_

_"Oh, no," the teacher told him next. "That simply won’t do." (Ford stared at him, because… what?) "Might I offer a suggestion?"_

_And it was at that point that Ford was officially lost in the conversation he was having here, with the man who’d been babbling almost incoherently after a mind-twisting from Bill only two days ago… who was now making_ him _feel like the crazy one, here._

_"I… what?" Ford said, having absolutely no idea where this was going._

_And he wasn’t any further enlightened when Mr. Harman simply smiled at him and said, "Follow me, please."_

_And turned away from him._

_And started walking back towards the entrance of the school._

_"Come along, Dr. Pines!" the man called back at him over his shoulder, in the same cadence he’d always used when he’d asked him to stay after class for a moment, and been about to show him--_

_Ford didn’t realize his feet were moving and he was halfway across the school yard, until his feet were moving and he was halfway across the school yard._

_And almost through the doors of the front entrance to the school, which Mr. Harman was holding open for him, still-smiling all the while._

_...Though he did have a bit of an odd, excited gleam in his eye, which Ford noted as he passed him._

_That was vaguely worrying, so perhaps he_ should _continue following him, just to be certain that there wasn’t going to be any trouble, and that the man was actually--_

\---

_Ford had absolutely no idea what was going on._

_"He has a doctorate in science? Really?" the main secretary at the front desk said, looking at him with some measure of… she actually seemed_ impressed _. "How did you find him so quickly?"_

_"Oh, it just might be kismet, Doris," Mr. Harman seemed to… joke?... to the secretary, "You know how it is. Sometimes you just have to go looking in the oddest of places." (Ford felt himself color a bit at this.)_

_"Well, I do owe you one for last Thursday," the secretary (Doris??) sighed. "I’ll handle the paperwork; are you_ sure _about his credentials, though?"_

_"Absolutely," Mr. Harman said, slapping Ford on the back and startling him. Ford glanced over at him and frowned; he_ knew _he was being set up for something, but what..._

_Ford glanced away, then back again, as the secretary rose from here desk and walked off into the back. ...Presumably for a few blank copies of the aforementioned paperwork?_

_"--You don’t mind helping me out, do you?" Mr. Harman said almost conspiratorially. "This will allow you to keep a_ much _closer eye on those ‘demons’ of yours during the school day today."_

_"Ah…" said Ford. He hadn’t thought..._

_...Well, he supposed that coming up with some sort of excuse for him to ...be allowed to sit in on Mr. Harman’s physics class, post-science fair?..._ would _allow him to keep a closer eye on Bill…_ for just that one class _, but--_

_"I… don’t suppose…" Ford began, then startled_ again _at another good-natured clap on the back and a "Good man! I_ knew _I could count on you!" Ford blinked at him, and his confusion didn’t lessen in any scope or respect, as Mr. Harman said next, in rather reverent tones, "Really, my wife is a_ genius _. --If my son ends up with even half her brains… well. I will certainly be a happy man!"_

_"Alright, John," the secretary -- Doris -- said, as she returned with a thin folder with some papers in her hands. "I’ll handle this. You go off now, and mum’s the word. I didn’t see you in here."_

_"Thanks, Doris," Mr. Harman grinned out at her, before telling Ford, "Now, just remember, page 372, and they aren’t as scared of you as you are of--"_

_"Oh, you. Stop scaring him, or you’ll scare him off. --Now go on, shoo!" Doris called out at the physics teacher, in something like a loud faux-whisper, who raised up both his hands in surrender and walked himself quickly backwards out of the door._

_"Just listen to Doris; she knows everything!" was Mr. Harman’s final, smiling, called-out remark to him._

_...Ford was very, deeply confused._

_He turned back to her, a question on his lips, and--_

_\--had a folder of paperwork shoved at him, right into his chest._

_"Here, here," he was told. "Open it up; yes," Ford placed it down on the counter in front of them, between them and did so, "And sign here," the pen thrust at him was used as such, "And here-- good," she said. "And that’s that. I’ll fill the rest of it out for you, there’s a good dear."_

_"Ah," said Ford, before adding, almost tentatively, "...Do you even know who I--"_

_"--You’re the other Stanford, yes? You came in on Monday with the other Stanley Pines," Doris said, head down in the paperwork she’d retrieved back from him, by the simple expedient way of pulling it back towards her and turning in around 180 degrees in place. "Sat down in the hallway and waited for him outside as he handled things for the children."_

_Ford stared at her._

_"It isn’t every day that you hear about twin relatives from out of town coming in and scooping up their_ other _twin relatives like a couple of seagulls, just, right out of the blue!" she told him quite brightly as she continued her work, and he colored. "--Ah!" she said next, lifting her head up abruptly, as the morning announcements came on. "You’d better get to class; it’s in room 337. You might not have homeroom today, but you do have first period, and then lunchroom duty during third block. It’s the advanced class, so--_

_"--I’m sorry," Ford interrupted her. "I have_ what? _" Lunchroom duty?_

_Doris sighed. "First period is from 9 to 11:30 in room 337 -- it’s advanced physics -- and lunchroom duty runs from 12:20 until 12:55 -- you just need to glare at the students if they try to start a food fight again," she told him in a rapid, informative tone. "_ Now. _Even though this is technically a half-day shift, you -- like him --_ will _have to spend the whole day at school. It’s very nice that you’re helping John out today to let him take that sick day off with his family, but--"_

_"No, I meant--" Ford was very lost. "What am I--"_ ’doing?’ he was about to say, when the words ‘sick day’ caught up with him.

_"...’Sick day’?" Ford repeated slowly._

_"Yes," said Doris. "It’s a bit last-minute, but he hasn’t taken one in years; said something about a three-day weekend being almost as good as a week, the silly thing. I have to tell you, we were scrambling to find a good replacement for him on such short notice," she rambled on, as Ford stared down at her in something like shock. "But here you are, and-- Oh. That reminds me. I **am** _technically _supposed to ask you, silly me! -- You_ are _qualified to teach advanced twelfth-grade physics, what with a doctorate in the subject and all, aren’t you?" she asked him, peering up at him quizzically over her glasses, as she adjusted them on the end of her nose._

_Ford stared down at her in something like a growing horror._

_"I--" Ford began._

_"Where did you get your relevant doctoral degree by the way?" the woman asked him next, already looking back down at her paperwork again. "Place, degree, and year?"_

_"Backupsmore University, Advanced Theoretical Physics," Ford found himself responding before he could help it. "In 19--" Ford stopped. He stared at her a moment, realizing he couldn’t say-- because that was the_ future _, here. "That is--" He managed to cut himself off before sounding too strangled (and suspicious, he supposed), shaking his head. "That's not--_ I'm _not--" (and now he’d most certainly ruined it, blast it!) He waved his hands at her, "You don’t understand, I've never taught--" ~~oh, he couldn’t talk about~~_ ~~that~~ _"--a class full of_ students _before--"_

_He jumped in place as Doris slapped down the folder in front of him again, fixing him in place with a steely look that (in his experience, both in his home dimension and elsewhere) **he did not want to cross** (because he liked to think he knew better; really, it was more of an issue of **survival** \--)._

_"Young man," (Ford felt his cheeks burn at this, because she_ was _, in fact, older than he was), "Do you have an advanced degree in a relevant field of study from an accredited institution, or_ don’t _you?"_

_"Yes," said Ford._

_"Are you stupid?" the rather suddenly-fearsome woman asked ~~rather, **demanded**~~ of him next._

_Ford opened his mouth and_ almost _answered, ‘Actually, it depends on who you ask, because there’s a demon attending this school right now who thinks--’ but at the **look** he received from her for even thinking it (was she partially-telepathic?), he closed his mouth again, then opened it again and said, "...No."_

_"Do you remember what it was like to attend high school?"_

_Ford winced and resisted the immediate and overwhelming urge to hide his hands under his elbows. "...Yes."_

_"Did you ever have a substitute teacher for any of your classes?" he was asked next, and Ford colored -- not just at her tone, or at the raised eyebrow, but because several other ladies in the office had stopped their work and were looking over,_ staring _at them now._

_"...Yes." Most of them had really been quite awful, in fact, and he didn’t quite manage to keep what he thought of that fact out of his tone._

_"_ Good _," said the woman who clearly held sway over her entire domain, in a way that he hadn’t seen since the last dimension he’d been in with an active warlord in it. "Then you know we won’t expect much of you." --And with that, she slapped a piece of paper into his chest. "Room 337. Follow the map. Class starts in seven-and-a-half minutes._ Don’t _be late. You_ won't _want to find out what happens if you are." She gave him a long (almost-threatening) look._

_Ford stared at her in something a good bit less coherent than what he would call (if he was truly pressed to find a term for it) absolute shock._

_"Go on now! Get to class!" she told him, making that abrupt shooing motion at him now, too. (Ford jerked back almost automatically at the motion, then thought it was probably best to continue on out of there, following said motion with haste.)_

_"Teacher’s lounge is circled in green, lab coats are in the side closet, and the detention slips should be in the cookie tin at the back of the room. --Write your name on the board, and remember to have fun, dear!" was what followed him cheerily out of the office, and Ford kept right on marching, paper map clutched in one hand._

_Axolotl preserve him, it was always the ones who were a head-and-a-half smaller than him. And_ why _that particular hands-on-the-hips posture was always so effective in any species that he’d ever encountered, he feared that he would_ never _know._

\---

_Upon entering the classroom, Ford looked around almost aimlessly, as he tried to decide what, exactly, to do about this turn of events -- should he leave? but that would leave Bill in a classroom today with no teacher, and oh, that would be a **disaster** \-- and in his meanderings, he thought to check what the head secretary in the main office of the school had told him._

_And Ford soon realized that everything was_ exactly _where the secretary in the office had told him that it would be, and… it occurred to him to wonder if she knew these sorts of details about_ each and every classroom in the building _._

_...He mentally revised the woman’s threat level from ‘local minor warlord’ up to ‘regional, major power’._

_Ford looked around the classroom, and down at his copy of the school map again. Which had his entire schedule written down the side of it, with short succinct explanations, times, and locations. Each room on his schedule was circled, and had a hallway-route helpfully drawn out as well between them._

_It was all color-coded._

_...He wasn’t going to be leaving the building today, was he. She knew exactly where he was supposed to be at all times, and likely had a school full of informants. In the form of the other teachers. And janitors. And other school staff... ~~And maybe even some of the students, because didn’t they also have office helpers?~~_

_(Was… was this what high school was_ really _like? For the adults?)_

\---

"NO. AND NO. AND NO. _\--ALSO_ , **NO** ," Bill said angrily, fists clenched at his sides as Miz and the younger twins exchanged glances and moved off to their own seats, unblocking the doorway into the classroom.

"Sit. Down." Ford said testily, glaring Bill down.

...Except that Bill wasn’t cooperating with that. Bill wasn’t ‘glaring down’ ( _or_ sitting down); he was glaring _up_ right back at that Stanford instead.

"DON’T ORDER ME AROUND!" Bill declared angrily. He was _NOT_ **at all** pleased with _this_ new development. Because Sixer couldn’t--!! _This_ was _cheating!!!_ AND **NOT** THE _GOOD_ KIND OF CHEATING, EITHER!!!

\--And it shouldn’t COUNT anyway! Sixer _wasn’t_ ‘one of his teachers’, he was his _Zodiac_ , AND he was walking into things _BIASED_ by things _other people_ had told him, AND he couldn’t _GET AWAY WITH_ trying to _’dislike’_ or _suspend_ or _expel_ him anyway! _\--STANFORD PINES WAS **NOT** LOSING HIM HIS BET WITH STANLEY._

(Miz sat quietly at her desk. So… Ford was their teacher? How’d THIS get allowed by the school? Though, he DID look pretty cute in that labcoat~ She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands and sighed dreamily as she looked him up and down. Damn squirmy feelings and all.)

"Bill--" Ford began, in a firm, no-nonsense, _‘I am not taking any of your dimension-conquering demonic bullshit **or** your mental mindgames, not from you, not right now; not today’_ tone of voice.

\--AND THAT _IDIOT_ WAS **NOT** GOING TO _GET AWAY WITH_ TRYING TO _ORDER HIM AROUND_ WHILE HE WAS WORKING TO KEEP THE BET, EITHER!! --Bill was calling FOUL on this one, he wouldn't SIT for this! He WOULDN'T take this LYING DOWN, if _that Stanford_ even so much as TRIED to-- to-- the _@( &#(@)(#@(&*#@_!! _**HOW _D̸͙̪̮͓͉̦͙ͯ́͑̈͆̑͂͛͜ͅḀ̡̮̫̠̟̮̘̞̊̈́̎ͨR̴̷̠̯̦̼͕̖͙̥̄͂̏͒E͋̊͆̌̋̚͏̮̠̟̻_ HE TRY TO GET AWAY WITH THIS!!! WITH _H̴̟̖̽ͨ̒̽̓͒͞͠I̷̢͈͓̙̙̪̫͒ͬ͋Ṁ̈̋̓̂͛͏͔̹_!!!**_

The rest of the class was glancing back and forth between Ford and Bill warily. Clearly, the new girl knew their substitute teacher. And wasn’t happy at all to see him here.

One guy nudged Lee and asked, "What’s up with them?" to which Lee just shrugged and said, "He’s… uh… the brother of Bill’s… guardian?" Sort of? Well, Lee didn’t fully understand what the demon’s relationship with the older thems was all about, but on paper in those forged documents that Stan had asked Miz to create, it did list him as all of their guardian.

Miz spoke up, "Uncle Ford and Bill have a very… contentious relationship. Complicated history. Some bad decisions on both ends… broke up their Deal a few weeks back," which had both the kids nearby and the twins staring at her. She could already feel the new rumors that were going to pop up at this.

...It was gonna be hilarious!

"They broke up?" One guy a few seats down muttered before shuddering. "But he's so old--" and that had Miz turning to address him. "Actually, brother is older than him."

"You have a _brother_ , too?" another student asked her, "Where is he?" and Miz sighed.

But before Miz could open her mouth to explain, the bell rang, and--

Ford got an odd sort of smile, that grew as he stared down at Bill.

"Greetings, class!" Ford enthused out in ringing tones, turning towards the class _somewhat_ , but not quite turning or looking away from Bill completely as he talked. "Your regular teacher is taking a sick day to be with his family today--" (" _ **What???**_ " went Bill. " _That’s not--!!_ ") "--so _I_ am acting as your substitute teacher for today." ("NO!!!") "You may call me Dr. Pines--" ("I’ll _CALL_ you--") "--and _today_ , we’ll be picking _right up where we left off_ in your textbooks on page 372." (Slight groans from a few in the class, as Bill squeezed his hands into fists at his sides and fumed as he said: "Stanford.") "But you _won’t_ be needing your textbooks for today--" (" _Stanford._ ") "--in fact, you should put them all away, right now--" ("STANFORD.") "--and since _Bill_ here is already standing up and being **so** very _eager_ to _help out_ with things as of late--" (" _Not with YOU._ ") "--he will be my _assistant_ for today--" ("LIKE HELL!!") "--and for our _first_ lesson--"

Ford turned towards Bill and pulled something ovular-shaped out from the back of his coat and held it up between two fingers.

And Bill moved his gaze between it, and him, and it, and him again, looking somewhat caught off-guard and startled, as Ford’s smile turned into a grin, and he said, "--we’ll be discussing the application of Newton’s Three Laws today."

(The class was very confused at this point. Miz was simply curious as to what Ford was going to do. She took this chance to point at Bill and explain, "Bill is my brother. We decided that." The guy she was talking to looked even more confused as he said, "We didn’t--")

("Not _you_ ," Miz scoffed, looking like she thought the idea of any of the kids here deciding anything for her was a ridiculous concept. " _Bill and I_ decided that he’s my brother. And that I am his sister," she said simply. "Being a brother or a sister is a state of being, it has nothing to do with sex or gender," she explained, picking up on the fact that people _still_ didn’t understand that Bill was a guy. It wasn’t that difficult to understand, was it? From the looks on people’s faces, it WAS. Miz was almost annoyed. "Bill is a guy. He decided he’s a guy," she said simply. "And I’m _currently_ a girl. But I can change my mind later," she said simply.)

(The guy stared at her and then his eyes drifted down to her chest. "So… you can be a guy?" He asked. Miz rolled her eyes. "It’s not that difficult of a concept." She turned back towards the front of the class, where Bill was still looking completely flabbergasted at what Ford was doing.)

Bill was looking over the junky-looking piece of tech that Sixer was holding in his hand, scanning it with his suit and quickly trying to determine exactly _what_ that Stanford _thought_ that stupid thing was _SUPPOSED_ to be able to do for him that would mean anything _at all_ in this--

And then Bill got it.

The rest of the class saw the new girl go expressionless, and her eyes go quite wide.

"--YOU," Bill began, as Stanford Pines got a truly maniacal grin and with a lightning-fast motion, flicked what he was holding straight down onto the floor of the classroom--

\--where it seemed to slap against the floor and stick there, as a ring of light around the edges of it flashed purple, twice, then shifted to a bright green color...

And literally _everything_ (and every _one_ ) in the classroom started slowly floating upwards.

(--Except Ford, who was holding onto the side of the ubiquitous sort of black-countered floor-mounted table -- with sink and gas line for chemical use as well -- that one always found in a properly stocked science teaching class at the front of the room, next to him.)

Miz rolled her eyes even as she floated upwards. "Right, just anti-gravity everything. And Lee gets mad at ME for blowing my cover?" then she got distracted by her hair waving around as she shook her head and sputtered, brushing it out of her face.

"Lesson one," Ford began, as he hung onto the side of the table, watching Bill with a (terrible) gleam in his eye. "For every action, there is an equal and…"

"--I’ll ‘opposite reaction’ YOU!" Bill yelled out irately, making a gesture and bringing his suit into full-on display. And as every last seam of his suit lit up blue, and Bill stopped floating upwards (he seemed to be now controlling his motion in some way, floating in place and reorienting himself for a rush forwards at the man in front of him) and yelled out, "YOU OVERBLOWN--"

\--the light on the device attached to the floor suddenly flickered purple again for a moment.

\--And Bill suddenly slammed sideways into the front wall of the classroom, letting out an odd and completely-startled burring click-chirp- _squeak_.

"Now, no cheating, Bill!" Ford called out, his smile morphing into a grin for a moment. (He’d specially designed slight shifts in the gravity field to occur at random split-second moments, and with the sort of suit Bill was wearing and the way he probably had the whole thing tuned to work with and against the rest of the environment around him…)

"rrRRRAAAAAAHHHH!" Bill yelled out, as he careened off of the front blackboard, barely got himself oriented before he bounced off of it and up into the ceiling, and then started drifting slightly more slowly back down towards the floor again, after hitting and bouncing off of _that_.

"Newton’s first law," Ford said quite properly next, "Every object in a state of uniform motion will remain in that state of motion--"

"--I’LL EXTERNAL FORCE Y̡͍͖̞̩̩ͥͫͨ̚O̷̷̮͈̠̼̱͖͔̲͒̀̾ͮ̎͊̏͠Ŭ̫̰͇̗̉͒ͫ̕͘͝!!!" Bill yelled out next, and he seemed to twist around, half-contorting himself in place--

\--and a mass of black pointed- _somethings_ seemed to shoot out from his back, out from under his shirt, into long joined-together half-tentacle half-spider-leg-like feelers, that _slammed_ into the ceiling, the side wall, and the floor, anchoring him in place. All four of them.

"Ah, brother?" Miz called out, holding an arm around her chest, "Maybe you should calm down and…" She trailed off. "Well, class and stuff? I don’t think getting mad at the substitute teacher is a good thing?" She looked around. This actually seemed like it might be pretty fun, if that Stanford wasn’t being so smug about it.

Everyone was staring. "Dear god they really ARE aliens!" someone whispered while Lee was too busy trying to figure out how not to bounce himself off of any of the floating desk-chairs or any other the other people, to worry about his reputation or anything else. (All he could do was ask himself why, _why_ was the older Stan the only **sane** one of them all?!) Sixer, meanwhile, was delightedly jotting down notes, uncaring as to whatever embarrassment this might possibly cause him in the future. And, after a moment of reflection, Sixer began eyeing the device that was stuck to the floor down in front of him with the utmost of interest...

"HE’S--" Bill snarled. Miz sighed. "He’s our substitute teacher. It happens." She sent a small glare at Ford. "No one’s going to get hurt when gravity comes back on, right?" she asked.

"Of course not," Ford began (still keeping an eye of Bill), "I--"

"HE IS **NOT** OUR SUBSTITUTE TEACHER, HE IS _GOING DOWN!!!_ "

"Brother!" Miz said sternly. "Class has started!"

But it was too late. Bill had already launched himself head-first (and arms-first) forward towards Ford using his additional synthetic ‘arms’, and--

Ford shoved off of the table and kicked as he went, neatly dodging Bill--

\---

"...I can’t believe you picked a fight." Miz sighed.

"He is _NOT_ our substitute teacher," Bill said tersely, arms-crossed. "Stanley AGREED."

Lee was walking along behind them with a dazed look. His mind was still caught in a recollection of what had happened during that period… they’d _actually_ been _floating_... (If they could just set that same thing up someplace else, he bet people would _pay_ to be able to play around in _that_ for even a couple minutes or so. Like those bouncy houses! Or ball-pits! Except _this_ thing could be for adults, and--)

\---

_The vice-principal was making his rounds through the hallway, and slowly coming around the corner towards the science classroom with that new substitute teacher who was filling in for John Harman’s advanced class, that day. He should probably just quickly poke his head in..._

_He sped up a bit as he heard (muffled, but) loud and angry yelling echoing down the corridor._

_He was almost to the classroom door (it had been coming from the science classroom he’d planned on visiting anyway), and he had just opened it when--_

_\--he wasn’t entirely certain what had happened next, but he thought something flew out over his head as he reflexively ducked, and he heard a horrendous slamming noise into the lockers behind him._

_He heard a loud thud next, as he spun in place to stare down at…_

_He was greeted with the sight of an adult in a tan trench coat, wearing a white lab coat on top of it, sprawled out across the hallway floor over by the lockers, across the hall from him. He was looking slightly shaken, though he raised a hand to his head, then seemed to shake it all off quickly._

_"HA!" the vice-principal heard come out of the classroom behind him, as he moved forward to check on the… substitute teacher? "YOU WANT SCIENCE!! --NEWTON WAS A HACK, AND IT WASN’T AN APPLE, IT WAS A KUMQUAT!! I--"_

_Then the voice cut off, and there was a cursing noise at the same time as the sound of something brittle-sounding _breaking_ and--_

_"Are you _all right?_ " the shaken vice-principal asked, as he helped the man stand up and--_

_"I’m fine, I--" The man looked startled, and just about leaped forward and away from him back towards the classroom door, wrenching it open almost immediately at the sound of a horrendous loud crash that came from the room._

_A softer voice called out, "I doubt people cared enough to have that taught in schools." There was a pause and then, "Did I catch everyone? Are you all alright?"_

_\---_

_Ford was greeted to the sight of Bill Cipher, lying sprawled along his side across the floor, sans all of the little small hovering robotic ‘extensions’ that he’d been using as anchor-points for himself earlier, and Miz, being held up by something like half of those extensions, in a swing-like… swing, that extended three lines down from the ceiling to support her._

_Both of those things were rather expected by him. What was _un_ expected was that the other half of Bill’s robots were shoved up against each and every one of the desk-chairs in the room, having shoved _them _all over and away from the center of the room, to be piled up head-high against the side and back edges of the classroom._

_And the rest of the class of students being held in place in the air by a faint blue glow that was fading as they were all being gently lowered to the ground._

_The ‘anti’gravity-control device that he’d mounted to the classroom floor was dead, dead, and more-dead -- three times over. A spear of three of Bill’s little robots were thrust through it from the top, and two shorter spears had pierced the sides of it to, having intersected it at two other odd angles entirely._

_...And Sixer was sitting on the floor nearby it, with a screwdriver in his hand. "You didn’t have to break it…" he whined out at Bill._

_Ford didn't have time to react. Bill was on his feet -- and had dragged Sixer up off of _his_ feet, within the space of half a second, and he looked ABSOLUTELY ENRAGED._

_"THIS IS A CLASSROOM!" Bill Cipher yelled out at the teenager, straight into his face (as the rest of his robotic extensions dropped down and slid across the floor back to him in an almost-reflexive recall to his person). "YOU_ **DO NOT** _MESS WITH **ANYTHING** THAT YOU DO **NOT** ALREADY UNDERSTAND WITHOUT SOMEONE WHO **KNOWS WHAT THEY ARE DOING** _TELLING _YOU THAT IT IS OKAY!!! YOU--"_

_Ford was not too happy himself with his alternate-self himself, having realized what had just happened (the younger Ford had just tried to open up an unknown piece of technology without-- he’d just-- **was he insane?!** ). But he still strode forward and was about to intervene, when..._

_"--What is going **on** here?!" the vice-principal yelled out, as he finally entered the classroom himself._

_Miz raised her hand, "Ford tried to mess with the device Dr. Pines brought in to show the class for our lesson."_

_The vice-principal looked around the room, at all the students standing, at the desk-chairs shoved up in a mess all around, at the teacher who’d been literally thrown out of the classroom, and at the two students in front, one of whom looked about fit and ready to_ strangle _the other._

_"Bill," Ford said lowly. "You need to put him down. Stanley--"_

_Ford flinched as Bill opened his fisted hands and literally_ let go _of him, and Sixer fell straight down to the floor, feet then buttocks and elbows hitting in rapid succession as he fell backwards, unable to get his legs properly under himself in time._

_The vice-principal watched this, and then cleared his throat._

_"Dr. Pines," he said slowly. "In case you are unaware, the_ normal _way to handle this sort of behavior is to hand out a detention slip--"_

_"--He can’t do THAT!" Bill all but sneered out. "He’s NOT a TEACHER!"_

_Miz sighed. "He’s a sub. It _happens_ ," she repeated._

_"He’s NOT a teacher, SUBSTITUTE or OTHERWISE," Bill said again next, crossing his arms._

_The vice-principal looked at Bill. He looked at Ford._

_And then he said to Ford, with a slight frown, "...You’re not a teacher?"_

_Ford tensed in place._

_"Ah…" Ford began. "Well…?"_

\---

...Lee snapped back into the present when some kids yelped and slammed themselves up against the walls to get out of their way, as his group (with Bill and Miz in the lead) walked by them down the hallway. Frankly, he was just _amazed_ that none of them were suspended, or in any trouble at all.

...It probably had something to do with the older-him showing up to school and doing, well, _whatever_ that old guy did, that always seemed to fix things. Lee kinda wished he knew what had happened in that office...

\---

_"Are you kidding me," Stanley said blandly, as he looked down at both Bill and Ford, who were sitting in chairs in the main office, with two full empty chairs between them, looking about as petulant as he’d ever seen either one of them (not that either of them would admit that was what they were doing), and making a point to look away from each other at all times as they sat where they sat._

_Miz (who was standing by both Lee and Sixer) raised a hand. "I told brother to stop."_

_"Uh huh." Stan nodded at her and turned to her to give her a pat on the head. "Thanks for trying." He glanced over at the vice-principal and then said, "You go off with the twins here to lunch, now. I’ll talk to_ these _\--"_

_"--NO. ’Ford needs a penalty **RIGHT NOW** ," Bill said. "He was STUPID and RECKLESS and he--"_

_"I will talk with_ him _about what he did wrong **later** , _after school _," Stan cut him off, and Bill quieted. (For the moment.) "You three; out."_

_Once they were gone, he turned towards Ford. "Ford, what in the hell--"_

_"--I was drafted," Ford told him, sounding annoyed. "I didn’t even say yes to--"_

_"Yes, you did," was the two cents from the head secretary in the office, "And I have the paperwork and witnesses to prove it!" she added brightly._

_Stan (and the vice-principal both) turned around to look at her for a moment. The vice-principal and Stan exchanged a look, and then the vice-principal sighed, turned, and headed back for his office after that. (Yeah. It was times like this that Stan was_ glad _that he looked a good ten years older than his brother.)_

_Stan turned back to Ford and raised his eyebrows at him._

_Ford hunched his shoulders at him (like some kind of **teenager** expecting to get told off by… who knew who, geez) and then muttered something under his breath that Stan’s hearing-aid didn’t quite catch._

_"Right," Stan said. Wasn’t gonna touch that one. Nope, Nosirree. He turned to the kid instead, and attacked the first problem head-on: "Kid, Ford’s not **your** teacher; he’s just a teacher here. He don’t count."_

_"Fine!" the demon-kid snapped out, though he still didn’t look all that happy with him. Or anything. "Good! --Because he ISN’T!!"_

_Stan waited a beat, until the kid had settled down a little bit again. "You wanna tell me what went wrong?" Stan asked the kid next, once he had. And to that, Stan got back a..._

_"What, besides that ‘Ford being a completely arrogant fool?" the kid sneered out. (Stan gritted his teeth, but managed to hold it in...) "--Sixer didn’t put enough safety protocols in his equipment, **AS USUAL** ," the kid said, rolling his eyes at him._

_"I took precautions!" Ford protested. "There **were** safety protocols in place, to--!"_

_"--Not anything that was good enough to fail PROPERLY when you had a stupid HIGH-SCHOOL STUDENT going at it every worst-wrong-way with a **screwdriver** ," Bill informed Stanley. "I broke it PROPERLY before _that ‘Ford _managed to turn himself and the whole classroom around him into PASTE along WITH him. --YOU’RE WELCOME."_

_"It_ wouldn’t _have been a_ problem _if I’d still been in the classroom and able to watch over things_ properly _, Bill," Ford said testily, in pointed tones._

_"SEE!" the kid said, gesturing at Ford with both hands. "He ADMITS it!!!"_

_Ford clenched his jaw, and gave the kid a look like he wanted to drop-kick him across the room._

_Stanley decided to side-step the next problem by simply saying, "Ford, what-all do you have left to do for today, filling in for Mr. Harman?"_

_"I have a free period, then third-block lunch, then nothing… except I am apparently not supposed to leave the premises until after the final bell rings, at the end of the school day," Ford added slowly, and for some reason he was looking over at the head secretary when he said it._

_Well, at least his brother didn’t have any more classes to ‘teach’ today. Stan sighed._

_"Okay," said Stan. "Here’s what we’re gonna do. --Kid, you do your thing. Ford, you--"_

_"Someone needs to watch Bill today, Stanley," his brother told him and Stan stared down at him._

_Then Stan rubbed a hand across his face._

_"...Thought you were just talkin’ about after-school Ford," Stan told him, dropping the hand and already feeling tired of all this. "Not watching the kid all damn day."_

_But at the adamant look his brother was giving him..._

_"Fine," said Stan. "Ford, third-block lunch is what the kid’s got, so you’re just gonna follow him around all damn day, for the rest of the day. Got it? --And I mean_ follow him _," Stan warned. "No getting up in his business during class or anything else. The real teachers can handle it. --You sit in the back of the classroom, and you stay quiet. Understand? It’ll be like parent-teacher day, or something."_

_Ford looked incredibly disgruntled at this. "I don’t--"_

_"You want to watch him today? You get to **watch** him today. Period." Stan glared down at him._

_"I’ve been_ following _the bet," Bill muttered._

_"I know ya have, kid," Stan told him. "I don’t think he was tryin’ to mess that up for ya’ though. Don’t even think it occurred to him," he said, as Ford looked up at him all confused. Stan turned towards the kid. "He does anything other than just sit in the back of the class? You tell me; I’ll take it into account, all right? We all know he shouldn’t be here," Stan noted, more for Ford’s benefit than the kid’s, "So if he goes doin’ something that would be losing you the bet you’ve got with me, then that ain’t on you; that’s on him. You’ll win by default," he told the kid, "Unless you’re the one goading him into doing whatever screws things up for you, instead. Science class today is a wash. Understand?"_

_He got a terse and touchy-looking nod from the kid._

_...And he also got a frowning glance between them by Ford as he talked, and then a flash of both understanding and horror from his brother, before Ford managed to get his poker face back on again. (…_ Yeah _, Ford. You thought the kid went freaking ballistic on your ass there for no damn reason? Think again.) Good thing the kid had been looking the opposite direction away from him when Ford had had his little ‘revelation’ there._

_"Alright you two. Get," Stan said, tossing a thumb at the doorway._

_The kid got up immediately and strode out. Ford, on the other hand, lagged behind._

_"Stan…" Ford said slowly._

_"I’ll have a talk with the vice-principal," Stan told him, "Just in case, to wrap stuff up. You, don’t do anything stupid with the kid," he told his brother. "I mean it. Stay outta trouble."_

_Ford looked down for a moment, then over at the vice-principal’s office._

_"I really was only trying to make the lesson interesting, for once," Ford said to him, looking away._

_And at that, Stan couldn’t help but clap his brother on the shoulder, smile a little, and say, "Yeah, Ford. I know. Kids probably appreciated it, too. Including the kid."_

_He didn’t miss the startled look his brother gave him as he turned and walked away from him._

_(He did miss the slight, confused but pleased smile that Ford got a few moments later, looking after his brother. But the ladies in the office sure didn’t.)_

\---

"...I’m almost glad they’re leaving next week…" Lee groaned, glancing back behind him at the older Stanford who was _still_ following them, a few paces behind them and away.

When they (finally!!) got to gym class (the last class of the day), Lee trudged into the changing room (ignoring the commotion from the older Stanford not being allowed to follow Bill into the girl’s changing room -- not from him actually trying to go in, but from him arguing with Bill that _he_ shouldn’t) and wished he had one of those ‘blessed’ violins that kept people away from him like Ben did, when the guys in the changing room wanted to ask him about Miz.

"Fess up dude, are you banging her?"

Lee groaned. "No. Her overprotective sibling would probably rip someone’s dick off if they tried." That finally got the guys to back off, wincing at the thought. Lee wasn’t looking forward to gym. Bill was going to give him a threat-filled workout again, he just knew it.

Lee could _hear_ the horrified groans of everyone in class when their teacher announced that they were going to play Tag today. Lee glanced over at where Miz was explaining how Tag worked. Bill rolled his eyes and huffed out, "I know how this game works!" It was like when he had chased the kids through his Fearamid -- only _then_ he had been ‘catching’, instead of just ‘tagging’.

Miz shrugged. She didn’t really like Tag but it was an okay game. She simply had to stay away from people… and make sure her protective enchantments would keep her safe without hurting the people around her. Easy.

The PE teacher looked around. "Who wants to be It?" she asked.

Bill had the widest smile on his face as he exclaimed loudly, "I DO!" which caused everyone in class to flinch in unison and then stare at Bill in horror.

Time seemed to slow for the rest of the students as the teacher nodded and brought her whistle up to her lips to blow and signal the start of the Game, as well as _the end of their lives_.

As a collective unit, all the students in class had a singular thought in mind, ‘HIDE BEHIND MIZ!’, since they thought (assumed) that perhaps they would be safe there.

They were wrong.

\--Not just about using Miz as a shield, but because none of them were able to get to her before Bill had already tagged his first victim -- that being Ben, who saw Bill racing straight towards him with a manic grin on his face, and ducked behind his violin like it was his lifeline.

Ben shuddered as Bill went straight past the barrier his violin created to protect him from everyone else, and he squinted his eyes shut, sure that he would be _dead_ now that his one hope of survival had proven that it was no safe harbor against BILL...

"TAG! **YOU’RE IT!** " Bill poked the tip of Ben’s nose lightly and then ran off, laughing _**maniacally**_ as he went all the way. Ben blinked his eyes open and reached a hand up to pat the spot.

He… he _wasn’t_ dead?!

Ben’s knees buckled and he would have collapsed then and there if Miz hadn’t called out, "Ben~! You’re supposed to tag someone now." And he looked up to see Bill grinning as he ran and ducked and swerved around all the other kids, while Miz bounced lightly on her feet (and other places) as she verbally continued to encourage him to start playing.

Ben slowly straightened up and heaved a sigh of relief, before turning to try and chase down the nearest kid. Everyone else relaxed, _very_ much glad that Bill wasn’t It anymore.

It was a pretty quiet gym class after that. Everyone made sure to _not_ tag Bill or his sister, just so there would be no danger. Still, Bill ran around between the kids, grinning like a lunatic and keeping them all on their toes (they remembered the last few gym classes, they were more than a little afraid of him), so no one got to relax for even a moment. Also, many boys (and even a few girls) tripped while running as they got distracted by Miz jogging along in front of them.

Lee was panting as they left the gymnasium to go get showered and changed. He wasn’t as bad off as he’d been during the dodgeball practice, but he sniffed at his arm and then coughed. --Man, he stunk.

Sixer hadn’t _run_ so much as walked briskly around the gym, and therefore wasn’t as bad off as his brother. Sixer changed quickly, wiping himself down with some wet paper towels just to clean himself off, without having to strip down fully and enter the showers. He didn’t like showering with the other boys if he could avoid it.

Sixer watched as Lee stripped his shirt off and trudge off to the showers himself, though. And as he did so, the six-fingered teenager couldn’t help but compare their physiques. They were twins, but Lee was bulkier, more muscular. Not a scrawny little twig like he was...

Sixer shook his head. It meant nothing; he was the smart one and all Lee had was his fists. That… that’s just how it was. It was fine... Though, Sixer had seen what the older him had done to those cops… He looked down at his scrawny arms. So… he was (eventually) going to grow up to be a badass. Right? (Maybe he should ask Miz about it…)

He quickly finished up in the changing room, not wanting to stay there any longer than necessary, since more often than not after a certain point, the other boys started playing around like children, slapping each other with towels and other such nonsense. Rowdy, uncouth… Sixer didn’t like them. To be honest, he didn’t like most of the other kids at school. --He couldn’t hold a decent conversation with any of them! Not really.

Sixer spotted Miz, Bill, and the older Stanford already waiting for him outside of the locker rooms, out in the hallway, and he felt himself smile. The kids at school were ~~beneath him~~ not worth his time, but the demons made everything better. They were _interesting_ in a way that no-one else here was. And the things that they knew--!

Miz spotted him and waved. Sixer smiled. Also, it was… really nice to be around people who had no problem with ~~his genetic abnormality~~ his hands. (Said hands twitched.) Also, Miz’s hands were really soft and warm. He liked holding hands -- well, when Miz held his hands at least. Sixer had never initiated a handhold… He glanced over at Miz’s hands, which were down at her sides as she chatted with some girls. He shuffled a little closer to her, trying not to look like he was looking at her hands.

They were small, with dainty, slender fingers and pointed nails. Almost like claws. Sixer had noticed them before but despite how sharp they seemed, Miz had never hurt him with them. He wondered if they were really claws, showing through from her non-human side. Miz wasn’t paying attention to him, chatting with a group of girls, whose names Sixer had never really bothered to learn. "-ell they’re real, but not in the sense that they grew naturally from a progression of age and genetics, except they kinda did? It’s more like I asked brother to rewrite my genetic code in order to create the desired appearance…"

Sixer’s hand inched towards hers, they were right next to each other...

"HEY!!" Bill’s voice made Sixer jump. The teenager quickly looked up at the older demon. Bill was stomping over, narrowing his eyes at him. (Bill had caught on to his body language; ‘Ford was doing something he thought that he shouldn’t do. SUSPICIOUS. And after the LAST two times now--)

Miz glanced over, blinked and tilted her head. She seemed to be in thought before she sighed and slumped a little in place. "It’s fine. I’m not mad anymore. A little annoyed, but--" She reached out and took Sixer’s hand casually. "--not mad. It’s alright."

Bill glared at ‘Ford for a few more seconds, then slowly relaxed somewhat. He didn’t move any further away from them, though; he just turned and leaned up against the nearest wall, watching everything and everyone around him somewhat disinterestedly. (Ford eyed Bill, but said nothing at all about this.)

Sixer flushed as he looked down at their hands. She really didn’t mind holding his hand… well, actually, why _would_ she have an issue? She wasn’t even human, she was a dragon, a triangle demon. Who was also an alien? --Well, either way, it made sense that Miz didn’t care, or find his extra fingers gross… and… and… hadn’t Miz said that people she met thought her triangle form was gross? Well, it hadn’t seemed gross to _him_ … Ah. (Sixer gently squeezed her hand. He could understand a bit.)

The girls blinked at them. "So… are you two a couple?" one asked. Miz shrugged. "Just friends, I don’t know him well enough for anything more; also, he’s too young," she said simply. Sixer colored a bit and looked down at his feet, a little embarrassed now that he was being watched ~~and judged and labeled~~. But Miz didn't let go, and neither did he.

That was about when Lee came out from the changing room, dripping wet. Miz glanced over and raised her free hand to poke his nose again. "Boop, dry," she chirped. Lee shivered. "Do you have to use magic on me all the time?" he mumbled. Miz raised an eyebrow. "I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy dripping water for the next hour?"

Lee grumbled but couldn’t really refute that. ...But Ford could. He spoke up and said, in descending tones, "Don’t cast magic on other people _without_ their permission."

Miz blinked. "Ah… I can see how that would be wrong. So I’ll ask Lee next time. But what if I _need_ to magic someone to save their life and I don’t have time to get permission?"

Ford glowered at her. "I’m here, and I’m perfectly capable of saving other people without it. _Don’t cast magic on other people without their permission,_ " he repeated.

"And what if I ask for permission to save their life with magic, and they say ‘no’?"

"--Sis," Bill cut in. "I’m here, that Stanford is here. Stanley doesn’t want me casting in school. We both have science to lean on. No-one should be dying here. This is not the time for this question! Wait for Stanley to be here with us," he told her.

Miz frowned. "I’m just asking because I’ve had to do that in the past, and I’m wondering if it was right or wrong to do so. And in the future, if I’m not with you two and this situation pops up, what should I do?"

Ford looked about ready to pitch a fit at what he thought was her crude attempt to weasel her way out of _not_ doing whatever she wanted to people, whenever she wanted it.

Bill, on the other hand, simply said. "This is a question for Stanley later. The school teachers here don’t teach this. This isn’t their specialty!"

Miz nodded. "Okay. And I should just avoid magic on people until then, unless I have permission." The other kids milling around looked very lost at this conversation.

"Yes," Bill said, before Ford could say anything. "Stanley told you this on the boat. And told me after their fight and the snow-ing! Yes?"

"Yes." Miz nodded. She looked a little upset at herself. "I just forget, I’m too used to doing what I want."

"Then when you forget I will remind you, before Stanley has to," Bill told her.

Ford stared at Bill at all this. But Bill didn’t even look at him, as they all started walking away.

Miz waved goodbye to the girls she’d been talking to and grabbed Lee’s hand in her free hand to begin dragging the boys away, down the hallway. Lee rolled his eyes. "Why’d you always gotta hold our hands?" he complained.

Miz grinned, "It’s much easier to drag you around this way~"

"Well, school’s out so you don’t need to drag me to class…" Lee mumbled. "And aren’t you supposed to be terrorizing the beach right now?" He pointed out. Miz laughed. "Who says I’m not?"

Lee and Sixer stared at her in confusion. Miz giggled while Bill let out a "HA!" of laughter.

"I’m good at multitasking." Miz said cheerfully.

"She is here, and she isn’t," Bill said. "But she is here, and the ‘her’ that isn’t-here is most definitely an ‘isn’t’!" Bill enthused out, confusing the twins quite a bit, even though they themselves knew the plan.

\--It had been Stan’s idea. Since it would be suspicious if a ‘monster’ showed up and one of the new kids just so happened to _not_ be anywhere during the whole incident. Bill had agreed, and asked (read: demanded) that Miz use a solid light projection that she was only indirectly controlling, instead of a second vessel she’d have to split herself to be inside, or anything else. Miz had agreed and created a projection that would have pre-programed actions and behavior (while still allowing Miz to remotely control it if she wanted to). The various types of touch (including pain) were not passed along to Miz herself, if somehow ‘felt’ by the projection. It would also ‘turn into mist’ when certain pre-conditions in the environment were satisfied. This was the safest bet, since Miz wouldn’t actually get touched, grabbed, or otherwise (truly) captured during this whole scam, and the projection would vanish and be unable to harm anyone or be harmed itself, if anything went wrong at all.

Lee sighed. Well, everything should be in place for their plan. Frankly, he was a little nervous. The older version of him had called it a scam, and yeah, it kind of was, but... It made him wonder about what exactly his older self’s job was...

Hand in hand with Miz, they all set off to the beach.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Sorry that the whole 'capture a dragon' thing got pushed off again. Stuff happened.
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  \--Understatement!


	19. Chapter 88 Part 1: Get distracted by jingling keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Miz learns more about the situation. Someone isn't as innocent as he pretends to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 100 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/46244605). It was first posted on Jul 1, 2019.

\---

"Wait," Sixer said, pulling back a bit, as Miz not quite dragged him and his brother by the hands out the entrance to the front of the school. "There’s something I want to do first, before we go to the beach."

Miz blinked back at him and stopped in place, as the tugging of his hand got a bit more insistent, and he actually pulled his hand away from her own.

"Sure, what's up?" Miz asked, stopping to let Sixer talk. She wasn't in a rush, more time meant a larger crowd anyway. And what's a performance without an audience?

"I want to retrieve my science fair project from the gymnasium," Sixer said. He’d been putting it off because, quite frankly, between everything else going on -- and the open house for the ‘fair lasting through the week to (supposedly) let the rest of the community see what they’d all worked on (not that anyone ever seemed interested in this sort of thing in _their_ town)...

Sixer hadn’t really had a chance to grab it yet, since the exhibits were supposed to stay as they were for evaluation for grading by the teachers, and then general viewing. (He also somewhat hadn’t wanted to -- and _still_ almost didn’t want to -- retrieve it to determine exactly what had gone wrong, given how the thing not working had just about ruined his life, turning everything completely upside down. ~~Because what if the demon was lying? If it _hadn’t_ really been sabotage at all, then that would mean that pa--~~)

Really, the last week had just been so full of craziness, that he’d hardly had a chance to _think_ , between the older versions of them and the demons and the boat, but… he’d been observing the two demons carefully, and the demon-dragon one who called him-and-her-self Miz sometimes didn’t seem like much of a liar at all. In fact, he’d not heard her utter anything that seemed to be a lie, not a single solitary time, not even once.

And at the beginning of everything, she had said that someone had _sabotaged_ his project.

He hadn’t quite been able to think straight about it at first; not the first night, when things had been so rough that he’d nearly cried himself to sleep, and not the next morning when things hadn’t quite seemed anything like real to him yet at all.

But that had been Tuesday night, and Wednesday morning. Thursday had been strange, what with the second demon (consistently ‘Bill’) going from acting larger-than-life the previous day at school, to nearly dead-with-fatigue and all-but-sleeping through every single class instead.

But today wasn’t the first day, or the second. Today was Friday. He’d had nearly _three whole days_ to get used to things now. The new state of things, and the new status quo. He’d even gotten a decent amount of rest the previous night, for the first time since he’d been kicked out of the house ~~and out of ‘the family’ for good, though apparently that _didn’t_ mean Lee treating him like some sort of leper as well~~.

Sixer was feeling pretty secure in his current situation now, and now? _Now he wanted to know who had done it._ \--He wanted to know who had dared to _sabotage_ him and his efforts at scientific achievement.

"Sixer, we’ve got until Monday," Lee told him, as Bill and the older-Ford (who had been following at a few paces behind) came to a stop, up next to him and the dragon-demon lady who was still holding his hand. "We shouldn’t be too late gettin’ to the beach, just in case. Miz might get bored with waiting-- uh, no offense," Lee said, turning to her. "I mean, keepin’ a girl waitin’ is just bad manners, Sixer," Stan told his brother, frowning at him.

"No," said Sixer. "I don’t want to wait to retrieve it. It won’t take but a few minutes," Sixer said, turning around on his heel and marching back down the hallway towards the gymnasium. "--And it will give me something to focus on over the weekend," he informed his brother, over his shoulder, as he walked off, and the distance between them grew.

"But we’re gonna be doing the stand thing the old me talked about, this weekend," Lee called after him, feeling a little wrong-footed. He’d thought Sixer was going to help with that. (He wasn’t so sure about running it all himself… that kind of _felt_ wrong.)

Bill glanced after Sixer, then turned and started following after him as well.

"Bill," Ford called out, pushing himself into half-a-jog to catch up to him. "Don’t try and stop him from--"

"HA. --Who’s _STOPPING_ anybody?" said Bill, who merely caught up to Sixer, following at his side. "NOT ME!!!" Bill enthused out. "--Miz, Lee, _you two coming or not?_ " the demon simply tilted his head back and called out, not even turning any part of himself back the slightest bit towards the two others.

Ford frowned as he caught up to Bill, and strode down the hallway alongside them both, now three-abreast: Ford, Bill at his right, and his younger counterpart at Bill’s right.

....He noticed as they went how Bill was watching his younger self sidelong, almost carefully. And Ford wasn’t entirely certain if Bill was watching something, or watching _for_ something. ...But the dream demon was most certainly _paying attention_ , and that was enough to make the hairs on the back of Ford’s neck stand up a bit in worry and warning. (Because in Ford’s experience, whatever Bill _paid attention_ to for too long, whenever he _decided_ to pay attention to something, whether it be a person, event, or thing…)

\---

Sixer was staring at the table in disbelief.

Everything was gone. His _project_. His display. -- _Everything!_

"What the heck?" he heard Lee say as if at a distance, despite the fact that he was standing at his left shoulder. "--Hey, what’s goin’ on?"

Sixer managed to tear his eyes away from the empty table to see Lee marching right up to the nearest student and--

Carla McCorkle, holding a clipboard, turned around to face them. Ford noticed Miz frowning and deliberately looking away; Bill, meanwhile, was looking around the gymnasium with no small interest. (The dream demon didn’t look _surprised_ , though.) It left Ford frowning.

"Carla, what the heck is going on?" Lee demanded. He’d noticed that a bunch of the displays were gone, not just Sixer’s -- his was missing too, for a start. "This stuff’s supposed to be up until Monday, right?" he asked her. She was obviously in charge here, what with the clipboard and all, so she should know! (And it wasn’t like they weren’t on speaking terms at all after their breakup. He’d just been… well, not _avoiding_ her mostly, not exactly, just--)

(It’d been easier not to talk with her so much anymore after dumping him like that the way she had, after what she’d said about him being a total loser, is all. He hadn’t needed that noise. But now he had a reason to talk to her, so he was. Wasn’t nothing complicated about it.)

"The dance committee wanted to get a head start on the dance, before after school on Monday; it’s coming up in only two weeks, you know," Carla told him primly.

Lee frowned. "Carla, you _are_ the dance committee." She was the one who always took point and worked on that stuff for their class. "What the heck? --Did you tell _any_ body about this first, before throwing people’s stuff out?" he asked her. "Give people a chance to grab their stuff?" Because he knew a couple people besides Sixer who’d have a real problem with this.

"It was approved by the science teachers and the principal," she told him simply. "It’s not like the open house was being extended into this weekend, too," she said with a shrug. "And it’s not like we’re throwing out any project that doesn’t have a bad grade on it. The rest, we’re going to be sticking in one of the supply closets for the weekend."

"Okay, then where’s the supply closet?" Lee said, letting out a breath in relief. Because hey, for a second he’d been worried there.

Carla blinked at him. "Stan, we started by trashing the bad ones first. All the others left here are going to go on one of the A/V carts," she told him.

Lee saw Sixer go still next to him, and Lee glared at her. "If you’re only throwin’ out stuff with a bad grade," Lee said slowly, as his hands slowly clenched into fists at his side, "Then where’s Sixer’s and mine?"

Carla looked down at her clipboard and flipped a page. "Well, it was probably tossed out with the rest of the trash. You both got bad grades on yours."

"I got an A+ on my project!" Sixer exclaimed angrily at Lee's side, as Carla looked on cooly. Lee glanced between them.

"Well, I have the grades listing right here, and it says that you received a D-," Carla said. "Probably because the teachers evaluating the projects realized that you shouldn’t have gotten so high a grade in the first place for lying." Carla flipped the pages back, and then let her hands fall, to hold the clipboard two-handed, down against her legs casually. "I suppose it’s a good thing that those college-board people showed up and let them know exactly what was wrong with it when they did."

Sixer was breathing heavily. "My work… was _sabotaged_ \--"

"Really, Stanford," Carla said in chiding tones, lifting the clipboard again, "Is that what you’re going with? Really?" She tilted her head and gave him a half-lidded look. "Do you _really_ think that they didn’t just go ahead and revise your grade based _solely_ on the poster board display after that? I can’t see Mr. Harman being anything other than fair. The physical part of the project was only a quarter of the grade, you know." She had a slight smile on her face, and--

\--Sixer stepped forward and snatched the clipboard from her hands. (She let him.) "I don't believe you!" he snapped out at her as he did so, but he was already looking pale. And when he paged through it and saw for himself what his newly-revised grade was, he went absolutely dead white.

Carla stepped forward and slowly pulled the clipboard from Sixer’s hand, taking it back.

"Like I said," Carla said. "It was thrown in the trash. Just like all the others."

Sixer lifted his head abruptly at her words and stared at her, eyes blazing.

"Shame." Miz spoke up. "There were quite a few good ones there. Not trash at all." She was staring at Carla evenly. The other girl clicked her tongue.

"Well, to each their own. You're free to go through the trash looking for them, though, if you want to. We’ve been emptying the rolling trash cans out into the dumpster, out by the side there," Carla gestured carelessly with a hand at the double-doors. "We did move it closer to the building to make it easier on the other students helping out, and it looked pretty empty to start with, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find it," Carla told them all.

Miz smiled sweetly as she gave a carefree shrug. "I wouldn't mind. I'm used to picking up things that other people abandon and discard." She was still holding Lee's hand.

"...Well, you might not have to do it yourself, because it looks like your older friend’s already on it," Carla said, glancing past Miz’s shoulder, as Ford was already striding off, with Bill following along behind him at an easy, almost careless pace.

"Well," Miz shrugged, taking up and squeezing Lee’s hand, "One woman's trash is another woman's treasure as they say." She gently tugged the younger Stan's hand. "Come on Lee, we should probably make sure Sixer doesn't fall into the incinerator. He's not _supposed_ to die until he's 92 or something..."

"Incinerator?" Carla said. "It’s just a dumpster outside." They had no incinerator on the premises. "We aren’t burning anything." What did they think this was, some kind of mortuary? "It would be nice if you all got out of the way. Just go off and do whatever you’re planning on doing, okay?" Carla told them, "Unless you want to stick around and help out?" she said, gesturing at the handful of students milling about, working on doing just that, as another few students rolled in another two empty A/V carts and started carefully loading them up with the first of the remaining projects.

Lee gave Carla a long look, then put his free hand on Sixer’s shoulder, turned, tugged, and started walking away. "C’mon, Sixer. Let’s go get your project back," he told his twin, who was walking a lot more slowly than he was expecting.

Miz turned to stare at Carla as they walked away before finally turning back to face forward. Bitch.

Carla didn’t even bother to look back at the rest of them as they left, already moving on to the newly-arrived group of students. She handed off her clipboard to one of them and began giving them directions, starting with a hands-on example of how careful to be in retrieving and moving the remaining 'good' projects onto the carts.

\---

Ford didn’t bother wasting time. He just strode right over to the large metal dumpster and flipped the first and then second lids over in rapid succession.

He glanced inside, let out a breath at seeing that the students had apparently tossed the majority of the projects and (torn-up) poster boards into just the one half-side of it. He calculated the best location to place his feet inside the dumpster.

And then he slapped both hands onto the rim of it and vaulted himself bodily inside. (He’d lost any compunction about this sort of thing long ago. One took what one could get, in other dimensions. He’d found some of his best materials in other alien species’ equivalents of garbage heaps and junkyards on multiple occasions. And frankly, this dumpster was far cleaner by comparison, not containing any biohazardous or potentially radioactive material within it.)

He’d gotten the majority of the poster boards moved off to the side and out of the way (apparently, they’d taken care of removing all of those last), and had slowly picked his way through about a third of the pile when the man-eater and their younger selves made their way outside.

"Woah," Lee said, walking up next to Bill (who was casually leaning back up against the front of the dumpster, looking inside it and half-watching as the older Sixer went at it), and Lee gingerly put his hands against the side of the dumpster (not wanting to risk a cut against something that rusty) as he looked in himself. He hadn’t expected the older Sixer to just… dive right in and start going through stuff like that. Like it was nothing. And he _really_ seemed to know what he was doing, too. ...Huh.

The older Sixer looked up at him from where he was crouched. "Oh, here," he was told, and Lee blinked as the old man made an odd sort of sweeping-scooping motion at his side and stood up.

And then Lee blinked as his foot-bot was suddenly only being held in front of him about a foot away from his face.

...Lee raised his hands up and took it back from him.

And as he slowly lowered it a little closer to his chest, he heard the older Sixer say, "I don’t know what Carla was thinking. That really shouldn’t have been in here."

Lee looked down at his beat-up looking project, then stepped forward and looked down into the big metal dumpster at the old guy who’d just handed it to him, as the older Sixer just… turned away and crouched right back down again and got back to what he’d been doing before, carefully going through all the trashed stuff.

And Lee thought, _‘...What?’_

"But it’s junk," Lee said slowly. He knew that. They both knew that.

"Is it? I thought you worked rather hard on the idea for it."

Lee stared down at this older Sixer. "I mean, I guess…?"

"And you got a C+ on it, didn’t you?" he heard the older Sixer say almost absently next, as he picked up and moved another piece of something out of the way, and Lee blinked.

"Well, yeah," Lee said. "But…"

"Then it shouldn’t have been in here," the older Sixer said, as Sixer peered into the dumpster and pulled a bit of a face at some of the nastiness caked along the inner sides of it. "That’s not a bad grade."

"Carla is a vindictive bitch." Miz muttered. If she wanted to trash Sixer's project, that's fine, but Stan's too? That was where Miz drew the line.

"Yeah, well, Carla thinks that anything below a B+ is junk," Lee said to his twin’s older counterpart, just to say it -- not like he didn’t know that, it was mostly just for the demon to hear, really. Lee shifted in place as he watched the older Sixer work at it, still feeling a little odd about what he’d just had said to him _by_ him.

Then he saw a few sparks go off from the projects with both mechanical and electrical parts at the far edge of the pile, as something shifted. One of them hissed and popped, igniting some dust, which spread to the posterbocards.

"Aw shit!" Lee cursed, shoving the footbot he was holding at Bill. The demon took it from him, and Lee wasted no time in getting an arm and leg over the side and pulling himself inside the stupid thing.

Miz looked in. "Do you want me to put the fire out?" She asked. Because Ford had said she should ask first.

Ford, who was already using the edge of his (fireproof) trenchcoat to slap the fire out, said, " _No._ Do _not_ disturb anything that is in here! --I don’t want you messing with it!" He was worried about not just magical contamination, but that any spell cast could do far more than the most apparent effects.

"Okay." Miz said simply.

Lee grabbed up one of the poster boards that had caught fire and flipped it over, shoving the burning side up against the side of the metal dumpster with his foot, effectively snuffing the fire out by removing that particular side of it from the oxygen in the open air.

Ford saw this and quickly said, "--Move away." He grabbed up the entire pile with both hands, and stepped away quickly, pulling and rotating the entire pile of them away, to do the same thing in the same way as Lee had. "There. That's better."

(It also got the fire away from the rest of the other projects, as Ford then kicked a line of the junk he’d already gone through up against them, making a partial-air barrier between the burning poster board material and the rest of the pile.)

"...You’re just gonna _leave_ it like that?" Lee asked him incredulously, as Ford turned around, crouched back down, and largely ignored the small (but growing) fire at his back to continue picking through the pile.

"It’s isolated now; it’ll burn itself out," Ford told him. "Do you mind pitching in? It will go more quickly if you help out."

Lee stared down at him.

"...Sure," Lee said slowly. (That was weird. He would have thought that--)

"--Lee, do you even know what it looks like?!" he heard from his twin, and Lee sighed, slowly bringing his hands back up and away.

"Of course he does." Miz told Sixer simply. "Because Lee is a good brother."

"It’s a delicate piece of equipment!" Sixer said to them all. "It’s probably _broken_ under all of that!"

"It’s fine," Ford said, as he removed another piece from the pile, and tossed it over his shoulder. "He can just remove anything that’s obviously _not_ part of it, then. ...Correct?"

Lee glanced over at the older Sixer and… realized he was serious. And looking at him like he thought he could actually _do_ it, instead of just being a bother and a complete screw-up.

"...Sure," Lee repeated, to a nod from the older Sixer and...

...the old guy didn’t even explain what he thought ‘obviously not it’ meant. He just got right back to what he was doing like he thought Lee could figure that one out on his own.

It left Lee blinking, feeling even more weird in his chest again, and almost kinda… uncertain?

But then Lee blew out a breath (then grimaced at the smell a bit as he breathed back in), and he stood up a bit more, looking at some of the stuff a little bit higher up in the pile, instead of just along the side-slope of it.

He was a lot more careful with how close he was to the bottom of the dumpster, but after awhile he started pulling junk loose out of the pile, and then chucking it up against the far right side of the dumpster... just like the older Sixer was doing; he followed the older Sixer's example. (Well, maybe not tossing it _nearly_ as hard; he did it kinda more underhanded, while trying not to pay attention to how Sixer was carefully looking over what all he tossed up against there, like a hawk.)

And this felt… _really_ weird. He hadn't worked side-by-side together with his twin brother since...

"Are you _sure_ you’re my brother?" Lee muttered to himself, as he tossed another weird-looking thing over his shoulder that _definitely_ wasn’t any part of Sixer’s perpetual motion machine.

Ford faltered a little. "What do you mean?" His heart was racing, ~~as his own wordless doubts rose up in a wave and~~ that persistent ~~and slowly-growing~~ feeling of wrongness reared its head yet again, stronger than ever. "I... _am_ a Stanford Pines, older twin to a Stanley Pines, from another dimension." He didn’t know how to explain...

"He spent thirty years struggling to survive while lost in the multiverse," Miz pointed out helpfully.

"Shit; _what?_ " Lee said, startled, looking over at the older Sixer. "Seriously?" He saw the older Sixer hesitate for a moment without looking over at him, then nod once. "-- _Struggling?_ Really?" He got another hesitation another terse nod. ...Damn.

Lee frowned and turned away from him, looking back to the pile, frowning further as he thought about this. Because _that_ was weird. The older him had seemed… oh. Huh. "How long did it take that old-man me to get good enough at everything to take care of ya, then?" Lee asked, as he gave the next thing he was thinking of removing a careful look-over, slowly pulling it out, because it looked like it might be caught on something...

"Stan spent the thirty years building a machine to find him and bring him home." Miz shifted from foot to foot. (Bill shot her a warning look.)

"So, what," Lee said, not really believing what he was hearing there, because, "He thought getting home was more important than making sure you were _eating_ ," Lee said almost sarcastically because, yeah _right_. "Or--" Then Lee hesitated. Because, "...wait. _Find_ you?" He stopped to look over and down at the older Sixer in worry.

Ford closed his eyes briefly, and let out a quiet sigh, realizing what Stan’s younger counterpart must have been thinking at first. "Stan wasn’t with me. He was there, living in my house, back in our home dimension, while I..." Ford grimaced. "I... fell through a portal to another dimension, because of Bill," he ended tersely, not particularly feeling like hashing out the details of the entire issue there, as to what had occurred.

"They were separated." Miz clarified, as Bill straightened away from the dumpster and began walking towards her. "And brother made you build the portal, but he hadn't wanted you to--" Bill came to a stop next to her and placed a hand over her mouth.

" _One_ ," Bill said, " _I_ did NOT ‘make’ that Stanford do _anything_. He _WANTED_ that portal; I _gave him_ the concept, _explained_ all of the hardest parts of it to him, and _helped him_ with the design and the make of it." He sent Miz a long look. "Two, he wanted the _Deal_ we made, too." (Ford barely kept his mouth shut at that one; he only managed it because he _knew_ starting a verbal fight with Bill on _that_ subject without Stan there was asking for far more than just trouble, especially with the _second_ demon right there to back Bill up.) "Three, _what I wanted_ is NOT up for discussion here," Bill ended on. Bill then slowly removed his hand from her mouth. "You’re _risking_ confusing them all over again, little sis. --What you said just now was incorrect, and in the strictest sense untrue, if technically not a lie." Because she hadn’t been lying, just telling the truth as she understood it. At least, Bill thought that was what she’d been trying to do.

Miz pouted. "Sorry." She looked down at her feet. "I'm not very good at this, huh?"

"Explaining me to other people? HA!" He gave her a bit of an almost-amused look. "No, you are not. --So maybe you should leave the explaining-of-me to the _expert_ on me, here! Yes?" he said leadingly, placing a dramatic hand against his own chest.

"I’d rather not make the attempt, thank you; you tend to defy any sort of rational explanation," they all heard Ford say dryly from inside the dumpster, and Bill’s smiling expression dropped into something a bit more _annoyed_.

"I was TALKING about ME," Bill said, turning towards the dumpster.

"Oh, were you?" Ford said lightly, with a running undercurrent of dry sarcasm beneath. "What a surprise. You hardly ever do _that_."

Bill sent him a steady glare over his shoulder.

He didn’t reply to that bait, though, and silence largely reigned for the next few minutes, as both Ford and Lee worked away at the pile.

...And it was only a good ten minutes later that they’d shifted nearly the entire pile from one side of the dumpster to the other, and _finally_ found the pieces of Sixer’s perpetual motion machine at the very, very bottom of it.

Ford frowned at this, as Lee unshouldered one strap of his bookbag and unzipped it open. He’d found Lee’s foot-bot farther away; that had to have been in one of the last few garbage cans emptied into the dumpster, by the placement. But, by the looks of where his counterpart’s project had been found, _that_ had to have been one of the first, if not _the_ very first, to go in.

...Though Ford supposed that meant that it would have potentially had to have been on the very _top_ (or very _near_ the top) of the first garbage can full of ‘bad’ projects.

Had they simply gone through and removed the projects by lowest-grade to highest? That wouldn’t have been very efficient, though. It would have been easier to simply go row-by-row and remove those that were on the ‘bad’ list one by one… wouldn’t it?

Carla had seemed to have been carrying the only list though. She could have just been reading off names, with people running off and then coming back with the given ‘bad grade’ed project...

...but proceeding in an alphabetical order with a particular grade cutoff would still make more sense under those circumstances, though. That still would have had his and his brother's projects next to each other in the dumpster.

...unless perhaps they’d started with a different cutoff, realized they wouldn’t have enough space in the supply closet, and then raised the bar (from perhaps a C to a B) for a second-pass of 'throw away' removals. Ford’s frown deepened as he tried to make sense of this, as he carefully loaded the pieces of the broken project into Lee’s backpack.

Miz made a face. "Of course she dumped yours first. Seriously, what did you do to make her so mad at you?" she asked Sixer (as Lee checked how Ford had packed the pieces in and zipped up his backpack again). Because she still didn't fully understand why.

Sixer frowned at her, crossing his arms. "I don't know." He shorted. "I don’t _presume_ to know what might go through any unobservant little moron’s head at any given moment."

Miz paused (and Lee froze in place for a moment, himself). "Did you call her that to her face?" Miz asked quietly, as Lee carefully shouldered his backpack again, and slowly stood up.

Sixer rolled his eyes. (Ford looked over at him, openly staring.)

"Sixer," Lee said slowly, "Did you call my girlfriend that to her face?"

"No," Sixer said.

" _Sixer_ ," Lee said. Because-- "Did you _ever_ call her that." Ex- or otherwise.

"No, I did not ever call her that," Sixer repeated. Then he added, "It’s true, though. She’s rather stupid." (Lee frowned at him.)

Miz scowled. "Huh, well, I think I finally understand why _this_ happened." Because she had not been privy to people's thoughts when she Saw them while looking up events, but this? Well, even if Sixer hadn't said it aloud, Carla was a smart girl; she’d almost certainly picked up on it.

Lee gave his twin a long look.

"...Yeah, okay," Lee said, as he pushed himself up on the edge of the dumpster, and then kicked one, then the other, leg over the edge and fell the short distance feet-first back to the concrete below. He wasn’t gonna argue with his own twin over an ex; _that_ would be even _more_ stupid than that.

Ford vaulted the edge, and took the time to close both halves of the lid on the still-smoldering fire behind them. He gave his younger counterpart a very long look as he did so. Because _that_ hadn’t been… well. It hadn’t been the impression that he’d ever gotten from Stan’s high-school flame at all.

"...I suppose she can’t have been very smart to have dumped you," Ford finally said to Lee, after a long moment of thought. (Lee looked over at him and blinked, a little shocked.) Ford supposed it might be possible that, with how bitter this other self might be at having been kicked out of the house at age seventeen, that he might be projecting his anger onto those undeserved a little bit. He likely hadn’t meant what he’d said, in as thorough a manner as he’d said it… He himself would not have; at least, Ford _thought_ he wouldn’t have. (It was a very tentative thought, though.)

Then Ford realized that, with this Carla having been in charge of _throwing out_ his science fair project like it was junk, and being anything but conciliatory or the least bit sorry about it… some of the anger this younger him might be feeling at her at present could be directly related to that. (After all, he himself had latched on to blaming Stan immediately for his own project breaking, and… yes, he’d been right about at least _some_ of it certainly -- Stan had admitted to _some_ part in whatever had happened, whatever ‘an accident’ truly meant -- but he’d had no real proof that Stan had broken it, just a single empty candy-bag lying on the floor nearby. So this younger version of himself might likely blame Carla for having taken at least some small part in what was adding insult to injury, really.

...Not to mention being the bearer of bad news on the revision of his grade significantly downwards, Ford suspected. They’d both ended up with a D- at the end of things, but _Mr. Harman_ had been the one to both softly tell and then gently explain it to _him_ , which had significantly softened what had been a rather terrible blow.

But that had been back in his own timeline. --Here? Mr. Harman hadn't gotten the chance. (Not least of which because Bill-- ~~...Wait. Had Bill done what he’d done to him _deliberately?_~~ Ford glanced over at the dream demon suspiciously.)

Lee let out a breathy laugh, surprised. "Hell, Ford," he told the older man. "Carla broke up with me because _I’m_ stupid. Remember?"

Ford looked over at him, and he opened his mouth to say something--

\--but Sixer cut in, taking the footbot from Bill’s easy hold and shoving it into Lee’s chest, with a, "Lee, you get lower grades than she does. Of course you’re more stupid than she is." (Ford pulled in a breath at this.)

Miz was glaring out right now. "I can't believe you're more of a jerk than that Stanford," she said, as if being worse than Ford was a shocking achievement. Then she seemed to slump in place. "Well, whatever. I don't really feel like caring about this right now," she mumbled. "But Stan's not stupid."

"You three should probably head over to the beach, now," Bill said, as Lee handled his own project far less carefully than his twin’s, simply contenting himself to tying up the cord around one of the backpack straps, to dangle down at his side. "Stanley will be wondering where you all are! --Better LATE than NEVER. _HA!_ "

"We can hand off your backpack to him once we get there, for safekeeping," Sixer said, nodding once as he moved off.

Miz frowned, but followed behind.

And as Lee turned to follow them, Ford reached out a hand and grabbed his elbow, stopping him. He turned back to look at him, a tense, frowning sort of look on his face (his shoulders hunching up slightly), and...

"Look... Lee, you--" Ford struggled with how to put this, but…

Lee watched as the older Sixer pulled in a breath, then seemed to steel himself and say, under his breath almost, with a terrible urgent intensity, "Lee, you are _not_ stupid. And grades are _not_ everything. --Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Lee stared up at the old guy in front of him in literal shock at his words.

"You're just smart in a different way!" Miz called back over her shoulder to Lee from a bit farther away, as she turned to walk backward to keep Lee in sight. "I mean it! You're a great guy and don't let anyone make you feel bad about yourself." She waved her arms at him but it didn't look like Lee saw her, his eyes locked onto the older version of his brother standing in front of him.

"Lee?" the older Sixer(??) said to him, looking a little concerned almost, "Did you hear me?" and… "I said--"

"...Okay, sure," Lee said, getting the feeling that he’d better agree with him, that the guy wouldn’t let go of him until he did. "Yeah," Lee said, a little more weakly than he meant to. The older Sixer looked into his eyes for a long moment, then nodded at him once and slowly let go of him, and…

It left Lee feeling almost a little faint, as he backed up a step, and and another, and then turned away and started walking after his twin, a little more and more hurriedly as he went, hands fisted tensely around his bookbag straps as he caught up to Miz and his twin, because... a Sixer who _didn’t_ think their grades at school were the most important thing in the history of everything? --Had the world ended at some point, and he _just hadn’t noticed?_

Ford stared after Stan’s younger counterpart as he watched the three of them go.

...And then he sighed tiredly as he heard a soft ‘hmmmm’ing sound behind him, and turned around to see Bill stretching a bit in place leisurely.

Ford really wasn’t looking forward to spending the afternoon with the triangle demon. Watching him and that other demon interacting with the whole of humanity at the school that day, while being within the same room as the two demons, while _also_ waiting for the next (three-megaton nuclear bomb of a) ‘shoe’ to fall, had been nerve-wracking enough. He couldn’t imagine that Bill would be on anything but his _worst_ behavior, after _barely_ managing to maintain a halfway-working repore with the various people he had encountered throughout the course of the school day.

And now, he had a choice between trying to somehow _coax_ Bill into spending the time in a highly-public place (where Bill could play games with and hurt others), or try and take him off to someplace secluded with no-one else around (and no witnesses to whatever Bill would then decide to do to him). Neither of those situations (or outcomes) were particularly palatable, but if Ford had to choose, then he would pick…

Ford startled as he realized that Bill was halfway across the schoolyard from him already, and quickly dashed after him--

...to slow down to a walk as Bill kept up his half-sedate pace without speeding it up.

Ford frowned as he kept pace with him, walking two steps behind the demon for a good hundred feet or so, then frowning and coming up to walk apace with him, as they hit the sidewalk.

"Bill, where are you going," Ford asked him, as Bill didn’t stop walking.

"The Harman’s house," Bill told him, without much expression to his face. "He shouldn’t have taken today off from teaching at the school. Stanley wanted him to balance his teaching and work and his home life _properly_ , yes?"

"...Yes," Ford noted.

Bill tossed a look up at him as he walked, before turning back to face-forward again.

"...You want to go check up on him for Stanley," Ford said slowly.

"Yes," said Bill.

"That isn’t a good idea," Ford told him roughly, as they both continued walking along.

"If there’s something out of whack, then Stanley’s going to want to know about it sooner than Monday, Sixer," he was told, as they both came to a stop at the first streetlight along the way, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. "I can assess him _without_ ‘inspiring him’ any more than I already have," Bill told him.

Ford frowned.

But when the ‘walk’ sign lit up again, and Bill started making his way across the street, Ford didn’t try to stop him.

Ford followed him, instead.

\---

Lee finally caught up to Sixer and the demon-dragon, and jogged up to slow down to a walk at Miz’s left side. He huffed a bit for breath, recovering quickly, and then turned to Miz, because…

"Did you know there would be a fire?" Lee asked, remembering Miz's comment about an incinerator.

Miz shook her head. "I didn't _know_. But there was a huge possibility of a fire starting since there were a lot of electrical things in there that weren't properly taken apart when they got dumped."

Lee grumbled. "Could have told us." He could’ve grabbed a fire extinguisher from inside or something, if he’d known. He looked over at his brother and frowned. Sixer was scribbling in his notebook as per usual.

Lee wanted to say something, wanted to ask his brother what happened between him and Carla. _Something_ must’ve. Because his ex had just treated his twin like… he’d never _seen_ a girl act like that when there wasn’t something else going on that they were angry about before, and that stuff Sixer had said just then? Calling her a ‘moron’ like that, and just leaving it at that? --If that had been something _new_ from just then, Sixer would’ve _vented_ about it, right then. But he _hadn’t._ Which meant…

Lee sighed and looked away. He wasn’t gonna tackle this right now. Not _right now._ (Later, definitely. But...) They had other stuff to do right now.

Like...

Lee looked up when he heard the screams as they got closer to the beach. "...So… you’re in two places at once?" Lee asked her. "Kinda?" He hadn’t really understood the whole conversation she and Bill and the old-man him had gotten into the night before; mostly, he’d just gotten out of it that, whatever she was doing, was supposed to be a _lot_ safer for her?

Miz nodded, swinging their hands back and forth as she went. "Yes and no. I made a projection that I can control from a distance, and it’ll act according to the list of actions I’ve given it beforehand. It’s currently raiding beach picnics and scaring tourists."

More screams rang out as they began to approach the boardwalk. Lee was a little worried now. "You’re, uh, this thing you did ain’t hurting anyone--"

"Of COURSE not. What do you take me for? It’s just growling and chasing people." Miz looked away, her eyes glazing over. "Oh. The beach cops are here." she stated nonchalantly, making Lee jolt in worry. Sixer also looked a little uneasy, now that they were actually doing this. (And it didn’t exactly help that he was still more than a little bit upset from before, even after the long brisk walk back.)

Miz turned back to look at them. "Well, we should hurry along then."

\----

DragonMiz was having fun stomping around, kicking sand in the air and roaring. Well, it wasn't a roar. More like the sound of a rumbling air conditioner mixed with a squeal. There were many people who ran away, some who stayed to point and stare from a distance, and the beach cops were also there, unsure of what to do. For her part, DragonMiz was playing up her act of being some sort of ocean creature that had wandered onto land, shuffling around, inspecting the beach towels and discarded snack foods that people had dropped.

She had made sure to NOT show any signs of aggression until and unless a human got within a certain distance from her. Which those beach cops were doing now. DragonMiz hissed at them and backed up a little as they approached. One cop had his gun up, pointing it at her. His partner was trying to get him to put it down. "Don’t shoot, the noise will probably startle the damn thing into attacking!"

"What the _fuck_ is that?" the cop with the gun out hissed. They’d gotten an alert of a large animal on the beach; they’d thought it was a shark or something, but this… neither of them had ever seen a creature like _this_. It sort of looked like a snake with legs? It had scales. --This was much worse than a shark; it could walk on land and was _much_ larger than a shark. Twice the length of a great white and with just as many teeth. --And they both saw those teeth a lot closer than either of them would’ve liked when it opened its huge maw and snapped up a plate of hot dogs that some scared beach patrons had abandoned, in running away from the thing.

"I reckon it’s a new species? Or maybe some freaky escaped government experiment?" the other cop muttered, watching the beast carefully. Once it had backed away from them a little it had calmed, looking more interested in nudging around the colorful beach towels than in attacking _them_. He took a step towards it and the beast began hissing again, rearing up slightly. The cop quickly took a step back again. "Shit, how’re we gonna catch this thing?"

"I say we just shoot the thing and be done with it," the younger cop said, raising his gun. But his older partner huffed and put a hand out on top of it and pushed the barrel down towards the ground again, stopping him.

"Look," the older cop told his younger partner. "A large animal like _that_ can take multiple shots, of a hell of a lot higher caliber ammunition than _that_ pistol you’ve got there, before going down -- and in that time, those claws and teeth are probably gonna go straight into you." He was older, wiser, and had more than a little experience with hunting stuff out in the forests in the out-of-state parks a little farther south than Jersey; he’d had a few run-ins with black bears before. And deer. Plenty of deer. And if there was one thing he’d learned about wild animals, it was that they didn’t _want_ to pick a fight with humans, not unless you attacked ‘em first.

"Should we call in animal control?" the younger cop asked next, doubtfully but also almost hopefully.

His older partner sighed. "We might need to..." As far as he was concerned, they needed more people with wild animal experience, not more people with guns that might just panic the damn thing and send it into a rage.

DragonMiz paused. When was the cue coming? She glanced around, flicking her tail to knock over a few umbrellas. Ugh. There was trash and litter everywhere. (Miz could see though and control this projection remotely and there was a LOT of trash here) Even with her having deliberately grabbed up every glass shard she’d encountered thus far (of which this beach was named for good reason) to use in making stuff, there was still plenty of awful shit embedded in the sand around here. Discarded bottles, shoes, plastic toys...

Well, there was a pretty big audience now; it looked like it was time to step things up a notch. DragonMiz spotted the perfect target: a broken beer bottle. She wandered over to it, making sure to look like she was just searching for more food to gulp up, and... ‘stepped’ on the bottle, making sure that the cops were paying attention when she did it, and saw clearly what it was that had happened. --Then she faked a shriek of pain and reared up, thrashing around on the sand.

"Fuck!" one of the cops spat out, eyes going wide as he grabbed his partner and they both dashed back another good half-dozen yards, dodging a long whip-like tail as it swung around wildly.

The people watching reacted much the same way, running away further and screaming again when the beast started thrashing around more violently, smearing black ‘blood’ along the sand as it howled out horribly in pain. Its tail whipped around again, and the cop with the gun yelped as the long appendage (longer than he thought it was) smacked the gun out of his hands. He tried to retrieve the weapon quickly, but jumped back (nearly losing his footing as he scrambled backwards in the sand) when the tail whipped back around the way it came, smacking his gun even farther away from him in the process. "--Shit!"

" _Get back!_ " the older cop cried out, quickly grabbing his partner up by his arms and then pulling him farther out of the way.

The two men were left panting in the sand, well out of reach of the tail. And at this point, they weren’t sure what to do. The beast was obviously in pain and distressed, which was a bad thing for any large animal to be while near humans. They knew that, and they also knew that they just weren’t equipped for this.

That was about when the kids showed up. Sixer took the bookbag from Lee and handed it off to the older Stan as he walked past him in the crowd (with a muttered, "Don’t break it any further," to him as he went) before looking over. He let out a breath, and then took another one in almost reflexively. Because he’d thought that the dragon would look just like Miz had before. He hadn’t expected...

"What's that?" he asked eagerly, (rather easily) getting right into the act. (Not that it was completely an act for him at this point. Because _this?_ This was… --He was _really_ looking forward to this, now.)

Miz stayed back while the younger twins approached the cops and gasped. DragonMiz was dragging herself away to put some distance between herself and the scared cops, bleeding black blood out all over the beach, and...

"Don’t worry, that’s just an illusion; I’m not hurt," Miz reassured the twins from where she was standing farther back, staying by Stan for the duration. (She was using an ‘aural illusion’ to ‘throw’ her voice a bit, allowing herself to speak directly into their ears.)

When the cops realized that they’d just been approached, they both turned to quickly address the teens, worried for their safety. "--Stay back!" the older cop began, as the younger cop began to shoo them farther back towards the crowd again. "We’re going to contact animal control--"

"No need, we’ll capture that beast!" a snobbish voice called out, interrupting the cops. Everyone turned to see two blond twins standing nearby, apart from the crowd, with smug expressions and fancy clothes.

Lee recognized them, even after all this time, and he groaned out, "Ugh, _you_ guys again?"

The Sibling Brothers laughed obnoxiously as they turned towards the ‘injured’ animal. "Well, you might have cost us the Jersey Devil," one of them said. "But _we’ll_ be the ones to claim THIS one!" said the other. With that said, the first of the twins turned to the large creature and fired his net gun. DragonMiz roared as it fell over her.

Stan, who was watching this from a distance with Miz, hid a grin behind his hand. He’d gone over this with them all as one of the ‘high-probability possibles’, as the kid liked to put it. (--And they hadn’t even left it that much to chance, either, with the ‘dragon’ showing up and ‘running around’ for a bit before school had let out and making sure a few cops were in the area. Stan knew those annoying idiots had cops on their ‘payroll’ to let them know what sort of junk happened around the area, and anybody who would’ve been listening to the police scanner would’ve heard--)

It was all going _just_ as he’d planned out with Miz and the younger twins yesterday.

Stan grinned. He knew what was gonna happen next. (--And it’d serve ‘em right, too.)

DragonMiz reached out and clawed right through the thick net with her claws, as if it were toilet paper. The ‘injured’ beast then turned towards her ‘attackers’ and let out a full-throated wide-mouthed _screeeeeeeeeeeeech_!

And the sibling brothers paled and started to scramble away, yelling, when the beast lunged for them -- clearly seeing them as a threat to be taken out.

Taking his cue with a half-acted, half-improv decision, Lee rushed forward with a loud, "WATCH OUT!" and tackle-grabbed the beast by the tail.

DragonMiz made sure to halt, acting as if Lee had managed to stop her. She turned to hiss at him instead.

"Hurry up and get outta here!" Lee yelled out, then grunted in effort as he pulled on the tail, digging his feet into the sand and holding on hard. (DragonMiz wasn’t just going limp, she was actually pulling against his hold a little, needed to make it look realistic after all.)

DragonMiz stilled the rest of her body, rearing her head up on her neck with her fins fanned out, looking about ready to strike like a snake.

Lee loosened his hold on the tail at this. "Heh, good monster… easy now?" Lee grinned with ‘false’ bravado as he backed off just a little and patted the tail he had been holding, taking a slow step back along it, then another, hand out and down low. (The old-man Stan had drilled the two of them on their acting for this, but in facing this down… it wasn’t all that hard to pretend, Lee was realizing.)

\--Especially when DragonMiz snarled and turned her entire body around to go after Lee instead.

The people in the crowd back along the boardwalk (now partially-cordoned there by the cops) all screamed as they watched the sea monster make its lunge, sure that this brave foolish boy was about to get mauled.

"Woah!" Lee yelled as he ducked and dove out of the way. DragonMiz was making this look real, swiping with her claws as she twisted her long serpentine body around; Lee was forced to keep dodging.

Sixer took his cue, ducking under the one cop’s arm and running forward to help his brother. He slowed down significantly as he approached the creature, then reached his arms out and crouched down and in on himself a bit, to appear small and unthreatening. "Shhh, shhh, calm down…" he said, trying to ‘soothe’ the creature.

The dragon didn’t charge Lee again, but Lee still had to run back out of reach to get out of the way of another (stationary) claw swipe. (It was the back left leg that was injured, which simply meant its front legs were free to attack.) "I don’t think that’s gonna help, bro!"

DragonMiz, following Lee’s movement, caught sight of Sixer out of the corner of her eye, and seemed to startle, turning her head around to face Sixer instead. She hissed and backed up again, trying to keep both teens in sight at the same time.

"It’s just hurt. And that jerk attacked it," Sixer said, only barely loud enough to be heard by some of the onlookers. "I’ve read about what to do with injured animals! And cryptids!" It wasn't even a lie, he _had_ read all sorts of books about strange and unusual animals.

"This ain’t a cat that got beat up by the local kids!" Lee hissed out at him in a theatrical-sounding ‘whisper’ that carried across the beach.

But... the beast had stopped attacking, its large eye flicking back and forth at the two of them.

Sixer nodded. "Well, first off, we shouldn’t spook it any more. So… back up a bit," he told his brother. Lee nodded and carefully, backed away. "And maybe…" he said to Lee, then leaned in a little closer and whispered something more lowly to his twin that the rest of the onlookers couldn’t hear, and Lee nodded to him grimly, before giving him a light ‘good luck’ punch to the shoulder, turning, and then jogging off.

Sixer then turned back towards and continued talking to the ‘injured’ animal. "Hey, it’s okay. You must be hurting, right? Just calm down, okay?" He stayed back, kept himself crouched low to the ground, and made sure to speak softly.

DragonMiz twitched as she stared him down for several long minutes, watching, and listening, before finally beginning to calm down.

That was when Lee came back with some hotdogs. "Hey, think these will do it?" Sixer turned his head slightly to look at Lee without really taking his eyes off of the beast.

"Yeah, generally you’re not supposed to feed a hurt animal, but that’s just for the ones that have internal injuries. But this one’s just got a cut paw, so I think feeding it would help in this case. From the look of it, it came up on land because it was hungry." (Sixer had raised his voice a little so that the onlookers could hear him. ...He hoped he was projecting properly. He didn’t want to have to explain himself all over again after the fact, just because they couldn’t...)

Sixer felt his brother walking up beside him, watching DragonMiz tense and back off a little. "Most animals are just looking for food, so this thing must have been attracted to the beach because of all the food being left around." He was still speaking loudly enough that people could hear him. "So perhaps giving it something to eat will help keep it docile until animal control gets here."

Lee nodded as he carefully crouched down (emulating his brother) and shuffled a bit closer. "Hey, you hungry big guy?" Lee asked, practically crooning the words out to the creature. DragonMiz was watching the twins carefully. "Here, I got some yummy snacks for you~"

Lee carefully took one of the hotdogs and placed it down in the sand. Everyone saw how the creature’s eye shot down to look at it before glancing back up at the twins.

Everyone was quiet as they watched the scene play out, holding their breath. (The Sibling Brothers glared from where they were standing -- much farther back with the crowd now -- wanting to go and try to get the unknown creature for themselves but even they knew that agitating the animal with so many onlookers watching would get them in trouble.)

Lee put the paper plate full of hotdogs down, and then he and Sixer slowly backed off, away from the pile. DragonMiz glanced up and down between them and the food. Them, and the food. And once the humans were far enough away from the pile... she slowly crept forward and sniffed at the offering.

A long black tongue reached out and wrapped around one of the snacks, pulling it into the maw of sharp teeth. DragonMiz continued eating the food, chomping down on them cautiously. She soon polished off the whole plate.

...And then that large eye blinked and the creature slumped over into the sand, breathing softly.

"Heh. Looks like those tranqs in the food worked." Lee said proudly.

Sixer nodded at his brother. "Good, now I want to get a look at it’s injury, hopefully it isn’t too bad." He slowly approached the large beast, who was laying on her side, breathing quietly.

Seeing their chance, the Sibling Brothers moved away from the crowd, making their way forward across the beach. They tried to approach, but even with the ‘tranq’s in her system, DragonMiz stirred and growled. --She wasn’t asleep, just drowsy.

Lee (still standing a bit farther back as Sixer approached) noticed her bad reaction, then turned to glare back at them. "Hey, back off, you’re upsettin’ it again."

"We’re professionals and we should take this beast off your hands--" one of the Sibling Brothers started to say--

\--but a hand suddenly came down on each of their shoulders, and they craned their heads back, startled, to see a grumpy old man holding them both back where they stood.

That ‘grumpy old man’ was Stan, who spoke up after having made his way over after them. "--You’ll scare the dang thing and get hurt, is what you’ll do. Really, you shot a big stupid net at it; what makes you think it’ll want you bein’ anywhere _near_ it?"

The annoying blond duo looked like they were going to protest, but the cops were right there, and had seen this all go down, along with all the onlookers. In fact, the older cop was coming forward from his self-imposed ‘crowd control’ duty, glaring at him. "That useless net of yours just made it more angry. I don’t want you puttin’ anyone here in danger by agitating it all over again. If that thing rushes the boardwalk--"

The two blondes looked around. With all the glares from the people around them, especially when the large beast started rumbling softly as Sixer, then Lee, managed to approach it and Sixer began petting it gently... the blondes realized that they weren’t going to win this one. They scowled, but stayed back as the Pines twins essentially soothed the large creature with a belly rub.

The onlookers began to relax, cheering and clapping quietly as Lee cleaned and bandaged the beast’s paw, while Sixer kept it busy and distracted with the petting he was doing.

Lee spoke up from where he was crouching, as he finished up his bandaging. "It’s not that deep; should be healed within a few days. And then the big guy should be good to go back to wherever it came from." Said beast was continuing to purr in content at Sixer’s ongoing soft petting, making the police slowly relax as well.

"Well look at that. Impressive work, boys," one of the officers praised (as Lee moved away from the beast to be able to talk with the cops in something other than a loud call out across the beach, leaving Sixer by it to continue petting it and keeping it calm). "But that was incredibly dangerous and you really shouldn’t have put yourselves in danger like that."

Lee gave the cops a shrug. "Well, I kinda reacted before I thought ‘bout it."

"Well, thanks for your help boys, but we should get animal control here now." The younger beach cop told them. The other one scoffed at that, saying, "Or the government; this thing’s gotta be a new species or something."

Sixer was giving the beast a belly rub, but he was also well-aware that Miz (in her humanoid form) was watching him closely. He wasn’t going to mess things up with her this time, he was going to be the perfect gentleman. ...Besides, this solid light construct wasn’t the same. Sixer thought about how it felt to pet the real Miz; she was warm and petting her left a pleasant tingle in his fingers -- her scales had seemed to buzz beneath his hand, and it was all so _fascinating_. This projection was nothing like her; it felt lifeless. Sure it felt like a real animal, but after feeling the sheer power buzzing around Miz's scales, this just didn't compare.

That was about when the reporters showed up.

\---

The older Stan had stepped in at some point to help the twins spin the story, and he was doing a great job at getting them all the praise and recognition for their brave actions that they would have deserved for such a feat, if it had truly been real. (Lee was in awe at how well Stan could -- and did -- play the crowd. He and Sixer were pulled up to have their pictures taken and it was _AWESOME_.)

Sixer watched as Miz hung back a bit, not quite vanishing into the crowd, but being pretty careful not to be caught on camera herself. Sixer wondered if there was a reason for that, as Miz turned and moved farther off…

... oh, wait, from where she was headed (read: making a beeline for) a bit farther down the beach, Miz was just wandering off to go get some more food. Hm. Sixer still hadn’t figured out why one demon liked to eat and the other one didn’t… and also why one would only eat vegetables. (...Some demons could only eat vegetables? What was _that_ about?)

Lee was out and out _basking_ in the attention, and once Sixer got over his initial hesitancy at having so very many people looking at him, he did so as well. And it was pretty clear by the end of things, as Stan slowly handed off more and more of the question-answering to the twins, and then the reporters finally wrapped up (still looking pretty enthusiastic about the whole thing), that the twins were going to be front page news by tomorrow. Lee (feeling a bit of relief at getting past the first hard part of everything) looked around for his old-man self, and...

...The older Stan had set up a place for the tourists and locals to pay to take a photo of the beast. --Heck, Lee could see that he already must have made at least $50 in the last 10 minutes, given the number of groups of people crowding around what looked like polaroid pictures. (...Holy shit. If this was the kind of stuff the older-him did for a job then Lee could _see_ how he was making bank! The older Sixer caught monsters and then the older Stan did the business part of it...)

With the reporters now gone, Miz made her way back over with an armful of food, and more coupons stuffed in her pocket. (She was stockpiling in preparation for something.) Miz tossed another bunch of fries in her mouth. She was preoccupied with something other than the dragon now, though.

Miz wanted to make some saffron.

Miz had never cooked with it before. It was always too expensive for her to get, back when she was human. Miz wanted to know what all the fuss was about. And if she didn’t like how it tasted, well, she could always sell it. Heh. Saffron was literally worth more than gold. Fancy that. (Well, considering saffron was the stigma of a specific breed of crocus flower, and each flower only had three of them… and they had to be harvested by hand individually from each flower once it blooms… yeah, ok, she could see why it was so expensive.)

But was it worth it? ...Well, even if she didn’t like the taste, creating saffron was actually easier than gold (not in terms of atomic structure, just in terms of how much she needed to get the amount needed, after all, an ounce of saffron was already worth more than an ounce of gold) and would have a higher sale price so… win/win!

...There was also another project she was working on, concerning her solid-light construct. Miz had thought of a new idea that she really, really liked, but she knew she would need to talk to Stan about it first, later, before she could know for sure if it was a good idea or not. --Essentially, she wanted to fully animate the dragon construct. Not quite ‘giving life’ to it, but… similar.

\--Because, as Miz’s thought process went, if the dragon DID escape and flee back into the ocean, it would entice more tourists and cryptid hunters into the area, and if there were more sightings, it would help to promote cryptids as a ‘thing’ that was real because there would be plenty of evidence of such things (by way of this particular singular thing -- those photos weren't JUST for making more money). That would lead to more support and credence for little Sixer’s wishes for his future career as a ‘monster hunter’. ...Of course, it would also mean that he’d have to be a little more secretive about his own research in Gravity Falls in the future in order to avoid the area getting swamped quickly by other cryptid researchers, but… eh~ that was fine too.

(Plus, with more money coming into town, they could afford to clean up the beaches, to prevent their local cryptid from hurting itself and, therefore, want to stay around the area to attract more tourists and revenue.)

The beach was packed with people again, now -- even more than there had been before. Miz watched as the police showed up to try and keep people away from the now-stirring dragon. Sixer was back to petting it again, soothing the beast and keeping it pacified so that it wouldn’t spook and then lash out at people. It was all very well done; Miz was surprised at the younger twins’ acting ability. ...Or, perhaps, they really _were_ just trying to keep the people from getting too close to the construct, afraid someone would realize it wasn’t actually a real living creature if they did.

Finally, the crowd died down enough that Miz (who’d grown bored long before this) headed back to the boat, humming as she used the stove in the cabin to whip up a nice dinner for them all. She made some food for the Stans (all four of them), but kind of figured they might not eat her cooking; no matter. She looked down at the salad she made for her brother as well. "I don’t know if I’m using this saffron correctly," she said to herself.

Miz set the rest of the food to the side for a moment and sat down to try out her salad. She was chewing on her salad, which didn’t have pepper (she just didn't like spicy, she would add peppers to Bill's salad when he got there), and making smacking sounds with her mouth as she scented out the saffron in the mix.

"Hm… it’s not bad? I like basil or chives better," Miz decided at last. "Well, I'm probably not using this the way it's supposed to be," she spoke aloud to herself.

Miz wasn’t all that disappointed. She could just sell the clump of saffron she'd made. Would be cool to see how much it was worth. She looked at her little bundle of carotenoids. It wasn't even difficult to make. Mostly Carbon and Hydrogen with some Oxygen. Gold was much more annoying to make from scratch, being much heavier in atomic mass. Also, she could build the saffron from just grabbing the elements from the sand and air around her, versus making gold which would require converting the sand into a different substance altogether. It used much less energy than making the heavier element, and Miz was taking this time to more closely examine how much energy it was draining from her versus how much she was self-generating.

Self-generating normally consisted of converting the emotions she absorbed from others into pure energy. Since she wasn't allowed to do that right now until she learned to fully separate the emotions from herself, she'd only been feeding on her own emotions lately. She could also gain power from Knowledge and learning something new. ...Well, she had been learning some interesting things here and that helped a lot. There were also Deals, but she hadn't made any while she was here.

...and she probably shouldn’t be making Deals while she was here, either. ...Or once she and her brother and the older Stans got back.

She’d been thinking about the whole ‘disconnect from the Karma system’ thing and was wondering if it would work, or rather, she didn’t know HOW to go about doing it. Also, a small part of her was worried that maybe dad wouldn’t be happy if she went and did that without asking him first...

She was a little worried about that. She didn’t want to upset dad… and she was also quite convinced that her brother would be annoyed that she still valued Ax’s opinion on what she did with her life. But…

Well, she didn’t have to worry about that right now, she could figure it out later.

Once Miz finished up eating, she went out onto the deck to sit and wait for the others. She didn't have to wait too long; she looked out across the beach to see Stan and the others coming back now as the sun began to set, the crowd of onlookers and tourists finally leaving for the night. Ford and Bill arrived at the beach themselves not long after that, and started making their way across the beach to the boat, too.

Miz waved as they approached, and got up to let down the rope ladder for them. Once they'd all gotten themselves to the boat and up onto the deck, close enough to hear her without her having to shout, she told them all, "I made dinner for you, if you want it? If you don’t, there’s still plenty of ingredients."

Stan gave her a nod. "I hear ya." They all re-entered the cabin, and Ford frowned at her words at first. When they all got inside the cabin's galley, Ford frowned a bit more down at the food she’d made (a spinach salad with saffron and some hamburgers) that was laid out across the table, looking it over. Then Ford did a double-take and glared down at-- "Is that saffron?!"

"I was curious what it tasted like." Miz shrugged. 

Ford twitched. "Where did you get it?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Neither he nor Stan had bought any of that at the store when they'd been stocking up on supplies, which meant--

Miz opened her mouth, then closed it and sighed. "You’re mad and I’m annoyed…"

Ford glared. "I didn't ask you how either of us feel, at present. --Don’t dodge the question."

Miz groaned. "I scanned and made it. Like a copy and paste." She frowned. "I didn't want to spend money on something I just wanted to test out. I don't know if I like it enough." And it wasn't like she was getting caviar or something. Saffron was a plant. They were strings of CHO in various shapes. A plant!

Stan could see Miz’s mood dropping and interrupted. "Ford, you don't have to eat anything you don't want to," Stan reminded him, then told the younger twins, "Maybe we’ll skip the salad. --What are the burgers made of?" he asked Miz.

Miz glanced away from Ford. "I made them from some of the supplies you bought…" she told Stan. "I didn’t ask first, I hope that’s okay?" She was giving Stan a mild worried look.

"That’s fine. It’s good that you’re making use of the stuff I bought." Stan told her. It was good that she was relying on him more instead of making everything herself. He noted that Miz seemed relieved to know that she wasn’t in trouble for cooking without asking first. Geez, this kid. "If you’re hungry, you can get food, or cook food. You don’t have to ask for permission." Stan reminded her, then joked, "Just don’t eat everything all at once; make sure there’s still some left for the rest of us, yeah?"

"Okay." Miz glanced down at the burgers. "Are you guys not going to eat those? I made them to be shared. They’re not mine," she said carefully, glancing over at Bill to check if she was doing this right.

Bill took a moment to use the control unit at his wrist, checking them using his suit's sensors (just for complete thoroughness), then smiled and patted her on the head, letting her know that she was doing well. "They're not yours," Bill agreed, with a nod.

Sixer walked right over and picked up a burger, ignoring the older him’s unhappy frown as he took a bite. "It’s delicious," Sixer told her.

Miz blushed faintly, wiggling in place. "T-thank you…"

Bill frowned at this and glanced between them, then glared at Sixer, before ruffling Miz’s hair. "We need to talk about your standards!" he huffed out at her. "AGAIN!"

Lee groaned. He nudged his brother. "Stop flirting with the demon," he muttered to him.

Sixer blinked. "I’m just letting her know that her cooking isn’t bad." Frankly, Sixer was surprised how easy it was to get a reaction out of the younger demon. A compliment here and there was all it took...

...and he wondered: if he just pressed her just a little more, could he possibly get Miz to...

"--Ack!" Sixer yelped when Lee elbowed him harder. Sixer huffed and moved away to sit down and continue eating.

Miz looked confused. "Wait, that was flirting?"

Stan sighed as he went over to get some stuff out to make dinner for the rest of them. "Don’t worry about it," he told Miz. He knew that Sixer hadn’t actually meant it in a ‘dating’ way.

Ford was giving both Sixer and Miz a look that was equal parts annoyance and incredulity. Did neither of them realize that that was… even _he_ realized that was...

Miz continued eating dinner, shooting Sixer some curious glances. Bill didn’t seem all that happy about things still.

Stan sighed again. "Don’t worry about it," he repeated, this time to his brother, as Ford refused to lose the look.

Damn these kids.

\---

"Sis. We need to talk about your standards." Bill told his sister after they’d finished cleaning up everything from dinner. (Ford and Stan had eaten separately from the others; Sixer, and then Lee, had eaten what Miz had made, except for the saffron, while Bill had stuck to the salad again. Bill and Miz had taken cleaning duty that night.)

The plates were now washed and put away, and Miz had taken a moment to quickly build a shower unit for the boat belowdecks ("Because you're all filthy and I can't stand it!" Miz had justified), one that was ‘plugged into’ the holding tank for water below. The humans were off getting cleaned up, and the demons were more or less left alone to their own devices up on deck, getting ready for bed and sleep.

"My standards and my squirmy feelings are not exclusive." Miz set about arranging the blankets again, fluffing and pressing them until they felt just right. "And I'm not into little Ford that way. Or the older one. Just 'cause I like the way they look, doesn't mean I'm going to go for them." She shifted her clothes into her pajamas (which was just an oversized t-shirt and her underwear with nothing else) and flopped onto the nest. "If it were, I'd be dating already."

Miz stilled in the middle of stretching to get comfortable. "Huh. I've never dated anyone before. Are my standards too high?"

"They're not high enough," Bill shot back. "Not if that Stanford or 'Ford can get you feeling squirmy things for them, when they aren’t hitting even half the points on your list." Bill had thought he’d told (read: warned) her about this before. He narrowed his eyes at her. "They're not good enough for you," he declared, "So you shouldn't be so affected by them! You need to work on that!" Because as far as Bill was concerned, her standards weren’t actually standards, if they could be circumvented, or otherwise ignored in that only a few of them seemed to apply at all and they kept getting overridden for no discernable-to-him reason at all.

"...He likes my food…" Miz mumbled. "And he trusts me enough to eat it…" which made her incredibly happy inside. "Lee likes it too, but he doesn't always want my food."

"...Is that really that important to you?" Bill asked her as he thought about it.

Miz nodded. "The path of cooking is the path of life. To cook for others makes me happy. And if people enjoy my food, it makes me feel good."

"HM," said Bill. "So if they looked like they weren’t enjoying it, that wouldn't become a squirmy-feelings problem for you, then," Bill determined from this. He thought for another moment, then said quite seriously, "I'll add that to the glasses, too!"

Miz pouted. "Having people _not_ enjoy my food would probably make me upset…" She shuffled over so Bill could lie down next to her in the pillow-blanket pile and... Miz blinked in surprise. "...Why do you smell like Ford?" she asked. Her imagination was already going wild but she made sure to wait for Bill’s response before jumping to conclusions.

Bill stilled for a moment, then rolled his eyes as he flicked his fingers -- casting a spell to clean himself and his bodysuit (so that he didn't need to shower, but would still be clean, and thus remove the ‘Sixer smell’ from him). He was trying to use less magic, in solidarity of a sort and wanting to set a good-terrible example, what with his sister needing to try to use magic less. But this was one of those exceptions, since it would be rather difficult to clean the suit without using magic . So he did this before he laid down beside his sister, taking her word for it when it came to the smells around her. He wasn’t about to bother with smelling himself to determine how bad it was. (Ew, noses.) "Well...

"I probably smelled like Sixer because I spent eight hours in a small enclosed space without much ventilation with him earlier today, and because he never washes his stupid clothing properly," Bill noted, with another eye-roll. " _And_ then, after I sat down to think for awhile, I woke up to the idiot practically _SMOTHERING ME_ with his coat."

"Huh." Miz blinked. "That sounds like it was… something." And damn but she couldn't help but think that Stanford giving Bill his coat as a blanket was actually almost sweet?

"Yes," Bill said, sounding annoyed as he shifted in place and restlessly dropped himself down onto the blanket with a ‘thump’. "It was a ‘something’." Bill closed his eyes and let out a huff. "He’s already warm enough for enough-warmth," Bill muttered, as he got himself situated next to Miz. "He DOESN'T NEED to do stupid coat-things like he’s trying to _DISAPPEAR_ me into a stupid journal-pocket someplace. The idiot."

Miz was sure her brother wouldn’t like her interpretation of the coat thing as Ford trying to be nice, though maybe she was misunderstanding something, so she simply nodded without saying anything.

Bill fell off to sleep shortly after this, and so did Miz as well. A soft lullaby drifting through the air...

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Ooof, well the dragon thing is done and out of the way now, so that's good.  
> This is just part 1, we didn't finish the rest of the chapter on time, so it'll be posted probably Wednesday as another chapter
> 
> **My AN:**  
> ...aaaaand now we start running into the chapters that got split up a bunch 'cause I was tired and my writing and editing slowed down. A lot. ^_^;;


	20. Chapter 88 part 2: Seriously I’m gonna run out of Bill quotes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> More thoughts and Ford makes a shocking relevation!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 101 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/46343641). It was first posted on Jul 3, 2019.

\---

Ford was laying flat on his back in his bunk, staring up at the ceiling. He knew he would just toss and turn, unable to fall asleep, if he didn't finish doing what he knew he needed to do right now, but he also didn't want to give into the urge, either. Worse, the problem was that he was unable to fall asleep in the first place, not that he would have trouble staying asleep once he fell asleep. He hated to admit it, but the nightmares had stopped; he hadn't had any since Bill had-- and _he_ had-- at his brother's bequest, and… really, that just made him even more upset by this whole situation.

It was both better and worse than it had been before, the root cause of all this. --Which was _Bill_ , really, (and when was it not?) but…

...now, Bill had something to hold over Stan’s head that he knew was going to be effective. ~~Stan had nearly punched Bill in the face over it.~~ Ford’s ability to sleep and breathe properly upon waking was contingent largely upon Bill continuing to do something that he clearly wasn’t _required_ to do, and...

(...yes, he’d been fine sleeping when he’d fallen asleep right next to Stan on that couch in Mr. Harman’s basement, literally side-by-side -- as Bill had implied was another workable option for whatever reason -- but…)

(...Ford _still_ didn’t quite know how Stan had gotten Bill to not say no, to instead start to do whatever the dream demon was doing to him ~~again???~~ \-- or rather, to continue saying ‘no, but’ over and over again to Stan, but _do it anyway_...)

(...and Ford had seen how difficult a time Bill had had at saying ‘no’ to Stan there, and… Stan had expected it, and… was what Stan had said he was trying to do to Bill... ~~actually _working_?!?~~)

...and that brought Ford back to the thought of: why did the demons seem to listen to Stan _at all_ in the first place?

(Ford would much rather have said ‘no’ and refused Bill’s so-called "help", for a multitude of reasons. But Stan had been insistent, and he was trying to do the opposite of expectation sometimes, and… he had seen how Bill had been trying to use him as an excuse...)

(...Ford hated that he’d had to hold his brother back from attacking Bill, but, quite frankly, he hadn’t wanted to see Stan _die_. Bill had used the kids against him during Weirdmageddon, which Ford had not thought Bill would do, up until Bill had realized that he _cared_ about them, and vice-versa, and then-- but Bill had never gone after _someone else_ that he, Ford, personally cared about before, in an attempt to get him to fall in line and do what he wanted...)

(...and Ford knew now that Bill was _not_ actually above that sort of thing; his, and Stan’s, "good behavior" towards him, as it were, were only having the mere effect of not _prompting_ Bill to change his mind that much sooner, moving from ‘playing with’ them to _hurting_ them instead… and they didn’t have control over Bill’s whims, and wouldn’t have any sort of control over what the demon would do, once he decided that _this_ particular ‘game’ wasn’t _interesting_ or _fun_ anymore, and then…)

Ford did not want to be used as a pawn in Bill’s game against Stan. But Stan had quite literally set him up to be just that. ...And Ford had gone along with it. (He hadn’t expected to find it so difficult to say ‘no’ to his brother later, after he’d said ‘yes’ to what he wanted before…)

He should have said ‘no’. He should have taken it back. (Bill already thought he was an ‘inconsistent’ ‘liar’ anyway; one more ‘change of mind’ and ‘bad decision’ added to the pile would hardly have fazed the demon at all, Ford thought.)

Ford pulled in a breath, and then let it out slowly.

...He could admit that up until today, he hadn't been sleeping all that well before -- not since Bill had come back to life -- but he'd also been unable to remember his dreams very well, either; during those first two weeks, his problem had been one more of waking nightmares than anything. When he had managed to fall asleep during that time, however briefly, he'd not remembered the exact details of what he’d dreamed, but he had awoken with feelings of overwhelming panic and persistent dread every time, feelings that had had him steeling his resolve, to drive himself even harder, to try and find a way to kill…

Ford breathed.

Stan had already fallen asleep on the other bunk, and Ford couldn’t help but envy his ability to do so without intervention or fear of what might await him inside his own mind. (Hubris, most likely. Thinking that he could _control Bill_ somehow...)

...Worse, Ford had to be careful with the amount of noise he was making. He didn't want to wake his brother up again -- not least of which because Stan would likely get on his case again about his restlessness and un-slumbering state so very late in the evening.

Ford glanced over at his brother, then reached down to feel his breast pocket (and a few items he’d slipped into there from his coat), as he rolled onto his other side -- back to his brother -- and tucked himself a bit farther down under the covers. And as he did so, Ford felt frustrated that even without the nightmares, waking or sleeping, he still couldn’t calm his mind enough to fall asleep peacefully on his own...

~~...unless Bill or Stanley was sleeping right next to him...~~

(...unless _someone_ was sleeping right next to him…)

...unless--

Ford kept turning over and buried his face into his pillow, grimacing. Damn Bill. --Damn Bill, damn his brother, and damn just about everything.

~~He wanted to go _home_.~~

Ford pulled his face away from his pillow, thinking he’d indulged himself in unproductive anger long enough. He had work to do. --Work to _finish_ , really.

Under the covers, Ford pulled out from his breast pocket a small notebook, a pencil, and a penlight, and he flipped the notebook back to the last page he’d been writing on by feel, as he flicked on the soft, dim but visible light.

And, almost against his will, his thoughts drifted back to earlier that day, when he and Bill had gone to Mr. Harman’s house while the younger twins and that man-eater had done their act at the beach at his brother’s discretion and largely also at his direction.

\---

_Ford grimaced. He didn’t like anything about this, The fact that the house seemed perfectly normal. The fact that Mrs. Harman answered the door like nothing was wrong, rather than their having to break in. The fact that Mr. Harman was in the house, downstairs, and seemed..._

_"Oh!" Mr. Harman said, as Ford not quite gingerly followed Bill himself down the staircase and into the basement room. "You’re here! How was school today?" the man asked with a smile._

_Ford sent him a very long look._

_"That bad, hm?" Mr. Harman said, his smile slowly widening into a grin._

_"That was not very well-done of you, Mr. Harman," Ford told him, crossing his arms. He didn’t particularly like how jovial the man was being about everything,_ or _how Bill was making a slow circuit of the room, seeming to focus on just about anything_ but _the man he’d_ supposedly _come here to evaluate the state of for Stan._

_"Ah, well," Mr. Harman said, "Can you blame me? It was going to have to be a free study period otherwise, being so last-minute, and_ that _sort of class without proper supervision would be..." he said, and Ford had to stifle a grimace at that (because he was right, and not least of which because Bill had been present in said classroom)._

_"It still wasn’t a good idea," Ford said ~~while trying not to think of what had nearly happened with his younger self attempting to break open the device that he’d made and activated, in order to--~~_

_"--You didn’t burn down the building, did you?" Mr. Harman asked of Ford next, blinking at him curiously._

_Ford stared at him. "...No."_

_"Hm," said the teacher. "You didn’t fail at keeping the_ students _from burning down--"_

_"--No!" Ford protested. "The school building is fine! --Why would you think that--?!"_

_"Well, you were being a bit reticent about it just now," Mr. Harman said almost breezily, as he turned away from Ford to pick up a pencil and scribbled a bit on a notebook page in front of him, "What else was I to think?"_

_Ford stared at him._

_"I mean," the teacher said good-naturedly. "It isn’t as though it hasn’t happened before."_

_Ford was absolutely aghast. "Someone's burned down our school building before?!"_

_"Well," said the teacher, "Maybe not_ that _particular school building." (That got a "HA!" out of Bill, and left Ford shooting the demon a glare.) "But I’ve no doubt it_ has _happened before. You hear stories, you know?"_

_It was about that point that Ford realized that his teacher’s other-dimensional counterpart was_ teasing _him._

_...Ford ran a hand over his face._

_"Well, if the school’s still standing, and nobody got hurt, I’d say you did a rather good job as a substitute teacher; don’t you?" Mr. Harman told him. "Especially with a classroom full of advanced-study high school students."_

_Ford wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. (Not least of which because Sixer had nearly--)_

_...Ford decided to walk over to the opposite side of the room and sit down on the couch instead._

_"You’ve used the room twice today," Bill noted, having made his way over to the control device he’d set up for the room._

_"Oh, yes!" Mr. Harman said, turning towards Bill, as Ford lifted up his head in alarm. "Really, my wife is a genius," the man said almost reverently._

_Ford realized with a start that Mr. Harman had said the same thing earlier today in the school’s main office, and it hadn’t made much sense at the time. So Ford asked him slowly now, "...What do you mean."_

_Mr. Harman looked over at him and blinked. "Well," he told Ford, "You see, my wife thought that it might actually be more useful to use this thing," Mr. Harman gestured around at it, "As something of a holiday retreat."_

_Ford stared at him._

_"...I don’t understand," Ford said. Because really, and truly, he didn’t._

_Mr. Harman blinked at him again. "Well, this room works on the principle of allowing two extra 8 hour ‘shifts’ every twenty-four, correct? So, in three days, that’s another two full days, or forty-eight hours, added. In a three-day weekend, one can get a five-day break," Mr. Harman said simply, "And my wife was rather cross with me that I hadn’t been taking care of myself, and I haven’t really been spending as much time with our son lately as I would like, so…"_

_"You stockpiled food and water on the shelves," Bill noted, walking away from the device and over ~~closer to~~ in the general direction of Ford. (And then Ford frowned as Bill ended up coming to a stop at his right.) "You’ve spent almost a full day down here already."_

_"Yes," Mr. Harman said happily. "It’s not quite the same as going to the beaches, but one makes do." He seemed quite proud of… his_ wife _for this?_

_Ford tried to wrap his head around this, and failed. (Not least of which because not two days ago, the man had seemed...)_

_"You’ve been spending your time down here with your family… instead of working?" Ford said slowly._

_Mr. Harman looked over at him. "Well, so far I have. And Mary thinks that it might actually be better that way; spending at least half of these ‘shifts’ together down here, where we won’t be distracted, and my ‘work time’ upstairs when I can be more easily interrupted." (And Mary was very likely the name of his wife, Ford presumed.)_

_"...I would rather have thought that the opposite would be considered, ah, more ideal," Ford put out there, blinking._

_Mr. Harman gave him an odd look. "Really?" The idea seemed as odd to him, as his (wife’s) idea was to Ford._

_Ford shook his head, trying to let go of it for now._

_"How are your equations progressing?" Ford asked him next, because if Bill wasn’t planning on properly evaluating the man himself..._

_"Ah!" Mr. Harman lit up at the mention of his work. (...Just and solely ‘lit up’; the fanatic light Ford had been expecting to see in his eyes wasn’t--) "It’s been going splendidly, thank you."_

_And Ford waited._

_And waited._

_And waited._

_...And then realized that that was all Mr. Harman was going to say about it, which left Ford feeling a little…_ odd _._

_"...Did you want to talk about it?" Ford prompted him carefully, feeling as though there must be landmines here in this conversation_ somewhere _, ones that he just wasn’t seeing. (Ford hardly noticed when Bill wandered away from his side again, to peruse another part of the room.)_

_"Oh. You’re interested in seeing them?" Mr. Harman said, with a slight frown._

_"Please," Ford said with a bit of strain, feeling his chest constrict a bit as he stood up to walk over and--_

_\--he ended sitting down on the couch again, as Mr. Harman scooped up the notebook Ford had seen him scribbling in and walked it right over._

_And Ford felt a little odd as he sat on a basement couch with a person who was effectively his old science teacher, and watched the man flip past at least twelve pages of notes to--_

_"I didn’t realize you were interested in this sort of thing," Mr. Harman said, as he landed on-- "Ah, here it is. Now mind you, I haven’t made much progress since yesterday evening, but--"_

_Ford stared._

_"--What did you just flip past?" Ford couldn’t help but ask him, and the man looked up at him (stopping mid-sentence) and blinked._

_"Oh, just those equations that the Miz-alien put up on the board," Mr. Harman waved off. "Now--"_

_Ford listened as Mr. Harman walked him through what he understood of what Bill had given him so far, and… oddly, he didn’t quite feel like slapping his hands over his ears and screaming until his ears bled. (He_ also _did not feel like... ~~ripping the binder from John Harman’s hands and--~~ )_

_(Ford came_ close _, mind you. But not_ quite _far enough to actually feel the compulsive urge to do so.)_

_"--So, you see," John Harman ended, "I’m still working on defining the holographic nature of the universe, in order to be able to truly understand the ‘camouflage’ method that your Bill-alien is using for his suit."_

_Ford blinked down at the notebook, and then he rubbed his fingers against his eyelids for a moment, as he tried to think of a good way to put this._

_...so instead, Ford went with the direct route (even as he cursed himself for doing it). "Do you want some help with that?" Ford asked the man, and braced himself for..._

_Ford blinked, as Mr. Harman blinked at_ him _, then simply smiled and said, "Thank you, no."_

_...And Ford waited for the punchline. Or the ‘oh, ha, I’m just kidding!’ remark._

_But there wasn’t one._

_"You… don’t want any help at_ all? _" Ford asked the man slowly, blinking owlishly at him. "Not even from Bill?"_

_The man blinked back at him and scratched at his hair. "Well…" he said, "I suppose if I get stuck again…?"_

_Ford stared._

_Ford opened his mouth to… protest? He really wasn’t entirely certain what to say, when faced with this. But despite his complete inability to determine_ what _, exactly, to say to the scientist sitting there with a book full of_ Bill’s equations _in his lap -- let alone the ability to describe any of what he was_ feeling _just then -- the teacher sitting at his side still seemed suddenly become enlightened as to what he was trying to say to him, somehow._

_"Dr. Pines," the man said good-naturedly, with an undertone of amusement in his voice. "If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather figure the rest out for myself."_

_"But… I…" could help him with it. Ford has_ seen _fragments of information that would be helpful -- some of it had even been on those blackboards he erased, on some of those other, earlier -- and together, they could likely get much farther than if they each--_

_Ford let out a breath. Because that wasn’t_ precisely _necessary, under the current circumstances._

_"--You_ do _realize that Bill could simply_ give _you the completed equations, don’t you?" Ford said next. He knew, just_ knew _that he should be leaving this alone, that what he was saying here was likely horribly dangerous, might even leave the man prone to a relapse of some kind, but-- wouldn’t it be better to have that happen **now** ~~while Stan was around~~ than--_

_"But what fun would that be?" John Harman said next, and Ford startled in place, feeling rather uncertain all of a sudden at... "Einstein could hand special relativity to a caveman, but that would do him no good. I could hand a physics textbook with every theorem and proof fully filled out to my five-year-old son, and he wouldn’t actually understand what he was reading." The man shifted in place and gave Ford a long look. "You do understand what I’m getting at here, don’t you?" he asked of Ford. "--I’d like to understand it myself."_

_Ford couldn’t help but give him a helpless look, and he saw Mr. Harman sigh. "If I don’t figure it out myself, there’s no point. I won’t_ get _it," he told Ford. "I want to understand this. Truly understand it," he told Ford. "Besides," he said with a smile, "It’s rather fun to play around with the equations, and see what falls out of them."_

_"But…" Ford shook his head, then let out a sigh. He’d always found it far easier to start from the completed equations first, and_ then _attempt to determine what they meant from the proofs and their further mathematical manipulation. Yes, he could generally work out the initial derivations and proofs on his own, but he’d much rather work_ with _someone, to…_

_(And then Ford had to stifle a grimace and glance away from Mr. Harman, as he belatedly remembered Bill’s words: ‘The_ better _ones like to figure things out for_ themselves. _’)_

_"...So you understand the earlier equations already, then?" Ford asked, trying to think of a change in subject that might not be so ill-received as to have the man--_

_"Hm? Oh," Mr. Harman said next. "No, actually. But that’s all right," Ford was told. "I don’t see how they’re relevant to any of this work."_

_Ford not quite froze in place._

_"...I think they might be," Ford said slowly, ~~then kicking himself as he worriedly started to wonder if he was actually somehow doing Bill’s work **for** him--~~._

_"Oh, perhaps at some level, yes," the man told him, waving it off -- literally_ waving it off _\-- and Ford could not help but stare incredulously at the man as he was told, "But it’s really not all that interesting. I’d rather focus on this."_

_Ford barely kept his mouth from dropping open._

_"But-- that--" Ford blinked his eyes closed for a moment, then gathered himself and reopened them again. "...Might I see that notebook for just a moment?" he tried. "I myself am a bit curious as to what those equations say themselves."_

_Mr. Harman eyed him. "Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have erased them off of all those chalkboards, then," he said almost leadingly, which left Ford wincing._

_...But then Ford stared at the notebook that was being held out towards him._

_Ford glanced up at the teacher, then gingerly took the notebook from him._

_"Ah, thank you," Ford remembered to say, as he turned it over and flipped it back to the first page again._

_Ford didn’t read much of it. He stopped and literally closed his eyes rather quickly, in fact._

_He closed the notebook, while he still had his eyes closed, and then said, "...Bill?"_

_"Hm," he heard._

_Ford pulled in a breath. "Exactly what did your… ‘sister’ do in the classroom that these equations discuss?"_

_"Oh," he heard from the human in front of him instead, as he felt the notebook gently pulled from his hands. (Ford reopened his eyes.) "She did something with a ‘viewing portal’; it was apparently supposed to allow one to see atoms in both this dimension and another one? She was trying to prove to me that antimatter here was simply matter from that other dimension accidentally bleeding over into this one," the science teacher told him. "She wrote a good number of equations on the board, which were then all almost immediately obscured by whatever she did to create the visual effect she then made; Bill rewrote them for me in a way that made a great deal more sense." (Ford swallowed, hard.) "It was somewhat interesting, I suppose? Not something I’d be able to do myself without mechanical help, not being an alien, I believe."_

_"...But you could make a mechanism to do it then, with these equations?" Ford asked slowly, staring at him._

_And yet, Mr. Harman’s interest in doing so seemed to be, as far as Ford could tell, completely nonexistent. --And that seemed to be even more evident when the next words out of the teacher’s mouth were: "Well, perhaps I might be able to find a method to apply that ‘camouflage’ of your alien friend’s to real clothing at some point, I suppose."_

_"Oh," said Ford. "Well…" He searched for something to say. "I suppose that pure theory is…?"_

_"--Oh yes!" Mr. Harman cut in, and he was off and talking on the subject, eyes shining brightly (but not feverishly) as he went, and..._

_And Ford couldn’t help but to stare helplessly at him as he talked, because..._

_The man just didn’t understand. He didn’t understand, and he didn’t seem to_ want _to understand. All he seemed to care about was one single, miniscule aspect of one particular subject that was not even necessarily ever going to lead to any useful application of the concept, because he wasn’t at all interested in taking his level of understanding of things even_ that _far--_

_And suddenly, Ford realized that the man’s thinking was small._

_And then Ford realized what he’d just thought, and a chill went down his spine._

_"...Is something wrong?" Mr. Harman asked him, somehow picking up on Ford’s distress -- because that was what it was: distress._

_"You… you don’t care about…" Ford had to stifle a flinch as he kept going. "...the wider aspects of this… do you." He pulled in a breath. "That ‘viewing portal’... isn’t simply an unrelated theoretical construct, it’s..."_

_Mr. Harman frowned for a moment, and then his expression cleared._

_"Stanford," he said good-naturedly. "I’m not interested in absolutely_ everything _. I do have my limits, and my preferences, you know." He gave Ford a slightly-lopsided smile. "I’m not you."_

_Ford shivered in place. He hadn’t thought--_

_\--suddenly, the scope of the man seemed so very_ small _that it_ scared _him--_

_~~\--was this what **Bill** thought when--~~ _

_"It’s all right," Mr. Harman told him. "You don’t have to be satisfied with just one topic, yourself." And the man gave him a_ smile _as he said, "I don’t doubt you found two, or even three specialties, to explore yourself at their true and full depth, when you attended college and earned your advanced degrees. You always were one of my best students."_

_Ford had nothing to say to this. He simply looked down and clenched his hands in his lap and remained silent._

\---

Ford let out a shaky breath. He was _still_ trying to understand.

(And what would the man say if he’d told him he had _twelve_ Ph.D’s? ...That he’d gone for nine or ten of them too _many?_ )

It pained him, that Mr. Harman had seemed to be missing the most vital _points_ of something that he was supposedly, apparently trying to understand. Miz (if she hadn’t been lying to him, and the equations proved out) had made a _viewing portal to another dimension_ \-- which had been, quite frankly, just another type of visual ‘illusion’ similar to Bill’s ‘camouflage’ in its own underlying aspects, if not the specifics, if what he’d begun to understand from those equations had been anything like correct. And yet, the teacher had _completely disregarded_ the connection. He’d been almost completely turned off by it.

Ford himself had felt himself starting to lose himself in the equations at the beginning of the notebook when he’d first started to look through them. Yet Mr. Harman had no interest in them whatsoever. ~~Would he ever read through them again?~~

And as Ford lay where he was in his cot, he hunched his shoulders as he made a few more notes to himself on his small notebook pad, as he continued trying to note the differences between Mr. Harman and himself and their reactions to all things science -- distinct differences that he’d never even realized had existed until now... ~~but did they, really? Things in this dimension, the entire dimension itself, somehow seemed just a bit east of _off_ , and-- ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

But Ford couldn’t help but feel ~~shocked and~~ almost… disappointed. That his old science teacher just… wasn’t interested in anything _more_. In _learning_ more. ~~That maybe wanting to learn more, learn **everything** , wasn’t quite… _normal_.~~

By the dim illumination of his penlight, Ford frowned as he flipped back a page and read over his earlier notes to himself on the subject. --Primarily, on some of the things that he’d heard Bill say before.

...and secondarily, on what he’d begun to realize about Bill beyond what he’d known about the dream demon before, because…

Ford had thought that what Bill did to people was just _how Bill was_. But… Mr. Hartman wasn’t reacting anything like the same way now as he had been before when Bill had been pushing him -- not anymore -- and he didn’t seem likely to fall right back into the same ‘trap’ of addiction as he had before, either. Not without Bill explicitly pushing him. Which meant that Bill _had_ to have done it _purposefully_.

...and likely hadn’t gotten it right the first time, either. Mr. Harman hadn’t been interested in Miz’s equations, but it looked like those had been the first things that Bill had put on the board. Ford had never seen any of Bill’s victims right at the start of things with the dream demon; he’d only stumbled across the aftermath of it all, what had seemed to be very far into whatever Bill had done to them, when they were already far too far gone to be saved.

...So did that mean that Bill had had far more impact being unanchored and able to influence them from the Mindscape first for whoever knew how long, directly? Or did that mean that Bill had just hit, and missed, and _kept on going_ until something had finally _stuck?_

(...Or had Bill used those first equations in that different form -- however differently that he had written them from how the other demon had presented them -- written them in a very specific way to prime whoever was reading them, in order to use them as a springboard to begin the process of--??)

Personally, Ford was starting to wonder if perhaps it _had_ been a bit more ‘hit or miss’ than anything else ~~this time~~ , given Mr. Harman’s reactions and complete disinterest to some of those very things now. (And, from the state of the board, and when Mr. Harman’s handwriting had started figuring into things.)

And Ford thought this now, not least of which because he remembered how Bill had not quite ‘shotgunned’ him the morning prior, in figuring out at least part of what his nightmare had entailed. Bill hadn’t been able to read his mind _directly_ \-- there was _that_ , at least -- but while Ford hadn’t been in the proper frame of mind to really think about it at the time, Bill’s eyes had tracked left slightly, multiple times while he’d been cycling through topics. It reminded Ford a little bit of what Stan had told him once about how to ‘cold read’ someone, except… it was clear that Bill had been looking at some set of readouts from the sensors of his suit, rather than determining things from Ford’s own facial expressions.

...Which meant that Bill could still track human thought processes, at least indirectly, and adjust what he was saying and doing to try and push someone to a point which he wanted them to be pushed. It _was_ , and had always been, intentional.

Ford pulled in another breath.

Bill couldn’t read his mind directly -- not through the plate in his head -- but between whatever sensors the dream demon had in that suit, and whatever the metal plate in his head had (apparently) been _purposefully **designed by Bill**_ to _leak out_ at times...

Well. If Ford’s mind wasn’t necessarily off-limits, then his thought of potentially gaining some mean sort of advantage against the dream demon (while said dream demon was anchored down to a body and not able to move into his Dreamscape) by trying to keep _all_ of his thoughts inside of his head -- to write absolutely nothing down, to prevent Bill from finding it out -- was and had been largely a futile effort. ...And it had made it far harder for him to think his way through problems. (He realized a bit more consciously, now, after talking through more than a few things with Dipper, that while Dipper _needed_ to write things down for himself to… well, to feel better, to get things out of his head and -- seemingly -- to lower his own anxiety levels…)

Ford might not have the same pressing _need_ or _drive_ to write things down as his grand-nephew did, precisely, but he enjoyed doing so, and he’d found over the years that it _did_ help somewhat when he did so and he _did_ feel better afterwards…

(He’d rather gotten used to Bill, as part-and-parcel of his existence, violating his privacy at every turn by reading anything he’d written and laughing at him over it later: taunting him, attempting to defile his personal musings with his own scrawlings, and more. He was perfectly capable of putting up with Bill writing all over his journals himself, but... the derisive _commentary_ that the demon had usually made _later_ on most of it in the Mindscape (and then Dreamscape) had been-- well, frustrating and enraging to say the least!)

(He’d gotten used to Bill knowing things -- knowing _everything_ , really. ~~Knowing everything at all, except him.~~ That didn’t mean that he had to like it, or put up with it silently without a fight, though. And--!)

...Writing things down now did have a potential horrible effect, though. Now that Bill was beginning to use other people -- other _family members_ \-- against him, it was entirely possible that, if he wrote down something that Bill read and didn’t like, that Bill would then take it out on...

Ford stopped himself and forced himself to pull in a deep breath. To let it out slowly. (He couldn’t quite meditate for _calm_ or _peace_ anymore; Bill had ruined _that_ for him a long time ago, but controlling his own breath had always been…)

...It wasn’t doing him any good not to jot down notes to himself on the things Bill had said, in order to properly decipher them. It wasn’t helpful not to record his own thoughts on paper, so he could look at them together more objectively, and look for the patterns in them.

It was still hard to determine what might be ‘safer’ to write down or not. He didn’t want to give the demon a ready-made _excuse_ to hurt the niblings ~~or his brother~~ over something _he didn’t like_. But he was going against old habit of _not_ doing that, though. Ford was used to writing down everything, regardless of potential ‘impact’; Bill seemed to treat all things equally when it came to his derision, even things that Ford considered to be of dire importance. --He wished he could say that he’d updated his third journal once he'd returned home and retrieved it from his grand-nephew as an act of defiance of some sort, but the truth of the matter was, he’d been tired and weary and _angry_ , and nothing he’d written down had been anything that he’d thought that Bill himself had not known already, or would care about. Bill had not escaped the Nightmare Realm yet, and it had been almost a petty act that was the equivalent of figuratively spitting in Bill’s face -- his most common and usual one on the other side of the portal, really.

Bill didn’t think his writing was any good, or useful in any way. And still Ford continued to do it anyway.

When Ford had gotten back, he’d consciously dove into all his old habits again, and that had been one of them. He’d left his last and most-recent journal behind in the ‘Better World’ before making his ~~suicidal~~ attack run on the Nightmare Realm, and Bill Cipher himself. He’d thought to leave it behind as something that might speak to his legacy, to let it be one last thing that Bill would never be able to get his hands on, no matter what might happen next.

And once he’d gone through Stan’s rather untimely portal? Once he’d seen that swarm of demons racing for it, made his choice, and made his way back instead of attempting to finish Bill off, once and for all? --He’d _wanted_ to feel as though he was back home again, that things were _normal_ again in some small way. He’d wanted to recapture some feeling of safety, in having returned to Gravity Falls, after all those years away from home and on the run. ~~Even though it was the worst kind of lie. Except then he’d tried to make it true, despite all odds and Bill’s further taunting that he couldn’t do it.~~ And so he’d Bill-proofed the Shack, and taken his journals back, and he’d tried to engage in his own research into the weirdness of Gravity Falls yet again...

...running after some semblance of normality, after years on the run and never staying still in one place for very long...

He hadn’t been sleeping very well at the Shack, either. And, admittedly, at this point, he looked back on how he’d been acting back then, before Bill’s Weirdmageddon had hit, and he cringed -- and not just because of his treatment of Stan. Because the way he’d been acting...

...he’d almost been playing a role.

And he hated that. He hated _admitting_ that. The very _thought_ was-- Some of the things Bill had said, _multiple times_ to him, over the years, had been about--

He felt like he was finally starting to _wake up_ again, after _years_ and _years_ of--

Ford pulled in a quick breath, and nearly choked on it. He closed his eyes for a moment, even as he was already under the covers, already unseen, as he felt them begin to burn.

Ford regulated his breathing.

\--Bill had used to _LAUGH_ at him for ‘playing the hero’. And now, the role seemed so very large when _Stan_ had ‘played’ it -- really, had _taken it on_ and taken _Bill_ on -- but… when _Ford_ had been trying to do it, tried to take on and ‘play at’ that role...

Bill had used to laugh at him over it. Called him a flat caricature of himself, on more than one occasion, in the middle years of his interdimensional travels. And that _particular_ laugh? Had been _incredibly_ derisive.

Bill had thought it had been _cute_ , what Ford had been trying to do.

Bill didn’t laugh at Stanley, though. Not Stanley. Never Stanley. Only at him.

_\--His right-hand man._

Ford let out a shaky breath and reopened his eyes. He jotted down a few more notes to himself, on the topic of ‘hands’, with slightly shaking hands ~~as he tried not to think about--~~ , then flipped back a few pages...

...to a list of things that Bill had been avoiding talking about. A list of things that Bill had actively _prevented_ the demon ‘Miz’ from talking about, as well.

Namely, a list that all boiled down to two things, really, now that he was staring at it all down on the page: the science fair project and whoever and however it had been sabotaged, and what Bill had _actually_ wanted out of his Deal with him and the portal.

Ford wasn’t particularly inclined to try and dive into the specifics on his Deal with Bill, to try and answer that last one. He couldn’t imagine that that sort of discussion would go over well with the demon -- it certainly hadn’t the _last_ time -- and Ford doubted things would go any better if he tried to bring it up again now, even if he managed to get Stan to potentially try to ‘run interference’ for him on it. The very thought of discussing his Deal with Bill at all -- let alone _in front of other people_ \-- made him _highly_ uncomfortable, and he doubted that Bill would say anything more useful now than he already had on the matter -- with quite a good bit more of the usual cursing and anger, besides.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t try and figure out what was so very wrong about what had happened with the science fair project himself.

And it wouldn’t stop him from bringing either of these things to Stan’s attention before they left.

Because it wasn’t as though Ford had forgotten what Stan had told him: there was something that they needed to figure out here, before they went back home again. Otherwise… something would happen _there_ that would… lead to Bill causing _what_ precisely?

Ford didn’t know. But what he _did_ realize now, at the end of this -- the fourth -- day, was that when Bill had said ‘three days’ to the other demon at the start of everything that was going on in this dimension, Bill hadn’t been referring to anything _here_.

Because today was the fourth day. He’d been with Bill nearly all day that day, and Bill...

\---

_\--Ford felt something shift in the room, and he stood up abruptly at the sound of--_

_"--What...?!" Ford exclaimed, looking all around the room to try and determine what had just..._

_He glanced over at Bill, who had lifted his head up and blinked._

_"_ What did you do _," Ford said slowly, with no small dread, as Bill turned around to face--_

_\--the device that controlled the room. **Not** him._

_"...Bill?" Ford said, feeling an odd wave of uncertainty, as Bill outright ignored him and strode over to the device that was sitting on the corner of the desk on the other side of the room from them._

_"He turned the shift on with a delay," Bill said, as Ford walked over almost cautiously, to stand behind him and look down at--_

_Ford frowned. The display was counting down from eight hours, and--_

_Ford almost asked, ‘what? why?’ of Bill. The only reason he didn’t, was because Mr. Harman hadn’t said anything to either of them before doing what he’d done, so asking the question would be rather inane and unhelpful at this point. (...neither of which were things that Bill tended to react to all that well.) So instead, Ford moved his train of thought on to a question Bill_ could _potentially answer, and said:_

_"Are you telling me that we’re stuck in here for--"_

_Bill blinked up at him, and Ford held back a groan at the thought that they just might be. (He also held back something of a_ scream _, because he’d only thought he’d need to spend the next two hours or so following Bill around; four at the most. And now? Now that time had increased by a factor of **four** \--)_

_"No," said Bill. "We’re not STUCK in here. I could crash it EASILY."_

_Ford nearly let out a breath of relief, until the frown on Bill’s face and the lack of immediate action from the dream demon caught up with him. ...And also the specific wording._

_"...Then why aren’t you ’crashing’ it, then," Ford said slowly, in descending tones._

_"Because I’m not an IDIOT," Bill said. "_ And _I don’t feel like spending the next eight hours after_ THAT _making a new one."_

_Ford watched as Bill poked at the interface for the time-shift control device, then glanced around the room._

_...Frankly, he couldn’t believe that Mr. Harman had ditched them down here. Let alone..._

_"I thought this was only supposed to allow for two activations in a twenty-four hour period?" Ford not quite demanded out of Bill. Had his science teacher actually managed to find a way to outsmart--?_

_"--Not while I’m down here," Bill said. "And it’s in debug mode." He sounded more than a little annoyed, as he pulled his hand away from it._

_"So we really are stuck down here," Ford said, feeling like he’d just heard a death bell toll for him. Because he was stuck down here_ together with-- __

_"No," said Bill. "I told you; I can crash it whenever I want, if I have to. We can also use the stairs."_

_Ford stared at him._

_"What?" said Ford._

_And then he had to watch as Bill turned around,_ rolling his eyes _at him, and said, "The base of the stairway and the upper-door act as a two-door airlock." Ford’s brow furrowed, and Bill let out an (_ annoyed _, what else would he be with him) sigh at him. "The staircase is a transitionary zone. You walk in down here, it’s at this ‘speed’. You walk up to the top and open the doorway, you’re at the outer-everything ‘speed’."_

_Ford frowned at him. "You didn’t tell any of us that before." And that seemed like it would be very pertinent information that would have been excellent to know_ before _this!_

_"I explained it to Stanley so he would understand it, and I explained it to that teacher so he would understand it," Bill told him, hands on his hips. "It’s not MY fault YOU’RE--"_

_"--then why are we still standing… Is that why we heard the door slam?" Ford said to Bill, thoughts shifting abruptly as he realized what he’d just heard earlier._

_...Bill was giving him that long expressionless look (that Ford always hated ~~and dreaded~~ because)..._

_Ford glanced over at the staircase (empty all the way to the top, with the door closed) and struggled with himself for a moment, not quite torn between demanding Bill explain how opening the door wouldn’t just freeze the person traversing the distance in place (relative to the basement-time, until the ‘shift’ in the basement had ended) -- and how said person could move into the kitchen at the top of the stairs without getting ‘stuck’ in the doorway as part-and-parcel of that -- and..._

_(-- was the lack of a ‘freeze’ avoided due to some sort of delayed slow-down process as they ascended the stairway and exited the door? was there a transitionary ‘airlock zone’ right outside the doorway that acted in a similar fashion to the staircase? but how did that account for the door actually closing again? --)_

_...alternately, marching right up that staircase and-- and--_

_"I see," said Ford. And with that said, Ford turned on his heel and marched right up the staircase._

_He was at the top of the stairs, frowning furiously to himself about Bill’s lack of priorities in the order in which he gave out important information during proper discourse (_ as usual _) and had his hand on the doorknob, when he glanced over his shoulder and--_

_\--realized that Bill was not anywhere behind him. The stairwell was empty._

_Ford paused._

_He waited a moment, then two, then three. Bill failed to materialize at the bottom of the stairs, and he didn’t seem to be making his way over across the basement room to do so; Ford couldn’t see him--_

_Ford slowly, carefully, removed his hand from the doorknob._

_(It occurred to him that he’d nearly exited the room and left Bill all alone and to his own devices, for_ eight hours _of time. Ford didn’t want to_ think _of what Bill could do in_ eight **uninterrupted** hours _\--)_

_Ford pulled in a breath, and it took him a moment before he slowly, step by step, began making his way back down each and every stair of that staircase, all the way down and back into the basement. Where Bill was._

_And when Ford re-entered the room, it took him a moment before he realized that Bill was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall, with his eyes closed. He had one leg tucked almost under him, and one leg pulled up close to his chest with his arms loosely wrapped around it. He looked (almost) relaxed. (Almost.)_

_Ford stared._

_"...What are you doing," Ford said slowly._

_"Thinking," he was told by Bill, without the dream demon even so much as slitting his eyes open even a millimeter, or turning his head towards him in any way._

_...Ford was at a loss._

_He stood there for a long moment, awkwardly, and then..._

_...He looked away. He’d told Stan he was going to keep an eye on Bill, that he would follow him around that day, watching him, and... he’d nearly left him alone for eight hours of time just now. And the only possible way out of_ this _would be to… somehow_ convince Bill _to... (but since when had he_ ever _been able to do **that?!?** )_

_Ford shook his head slightly, and looked back to Bill. "Can’t you think_ outside _of here?" he asked him somewhat peevishly._

_"’Out there’," said Bill, "Things_ just **keep on HAPPENING** _. --In here," Bill said, his eyes still closed, "I have a little less than eight hours to think about WHATEVER I WANT."_

_’...without interruption’ was the implication there, Ford knew. Bill had been -- and likely still was -- fully expecting him to leave the room. He didn’t want to be around Bill, and Bill knew that. And the dream demon certainly hadn’t called out with any sort of taunting ‘hey! where are you going, Sixer!’ or similar, to try and stop him from doing so._

_Bill was wearing a cybernetic exoskeleton-bodysuit with (at minimum) further defensive armaments, advanced sensory features, and built-in life-support enhancements. If the demon didn’t want him to leave, Bill could quite literally have used a small portion of those miniature ‘robots’ that he’d used in science class today to completely immobilize him and drag him back downstairs before he’d even gotten two steps up the actual staircase, never mind the door at the top. --And_ that _was if Bill didn’t feel like getting up and physically grabbing hold of him and bodily dragging him back down the stairs himself. ...Not to mention the magic Bill had at his disposal at-present._

_But Bill hadn’t done_ any _of those things when Ford had ascended the staircase. He’d simply sat down against the wall and closed his eyes, instead. Which meant..._

_...Bill didn’t want him there._

_And Ford most certainly did_ not _want to **be** here._

_Ford turned on his heel and began marching right back up the staircase. Step by step._

_After all, Stan had said it himself -- he_ didn’t _have to deal with, or handle, Bill if he didn’t want to._

_~~Stan had said that, because Stan had promised to take care of that himself.~~ _

_Ford_ didn’t _have to try to do it all himself. Not anymore._

_~~Stan hadn’t stopped him from going off this afternoon, alone with Bill. He’d known that Ford was going to follow him around today after school; it was entering the school and engaging with him directly that Stan hadn’t known about or expected, and neither had Ford. And Stan hadn’t told him to even so much as keep his distance from the dream demon.~~ _

_Ford came to a stop on the top step of the staircase, facing the closed door in front of him._

_He and Bill both wanted the same thing, for once. ~~Why shouldn’t he get what he wanted?~~_

_(Stanley wasn’t here to intervene. This was the safest and best option, wasn’t it?)_

_As long as he got what he wanted, did it really matter if it seemed to be something that Bill wanted, too?_

_Ford raised his hand up to the doorknob._

_Did it really matter? Did he really_ have _to fight Bill and each and every single turn? Was it so terrible a thing, that by doing this, Bill might just be getting something that he himself wanted, too?_

_Ford’s hand tensed against the doorknob--_

_...and then slowly went slack._

_Yes. Yes, it was._

_Ford let out a tired, frustrated sigh, and he let his forehead bump against the door in front of him, as he let his hand fall back to his side._

_He closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed, as he tried to push back the burning sensation of tears in his eyes._

_(It wasn’t fair, really. That he had to do this...)_

_Ford leaned back, and he took a moment to compose himself, before he turned away and slowly walked his way back down those stairs again._

_He glanced around the corner as he walked past it. Bill was still sitting there, eyes closed, looking less tense now. ...Actually, the dream demon seemed_ relaxed _, almost._

_Ford felt his jaw clench. He absolutely_ hated _that Bill got to feel-- even_ sometimes _\--_

_Ford stopped himself, unclenched his fists, and shook his head from side-to-side roughly._

_And then Ford took those two steps forward and sat down right next to him, refusing to acknowledge the danger of doing so, of staying down here, just as he refused to give in an inch._

\---

Ford let go of his pencil, to rub his hand across his face. He knew it was stupid, to have (and follow) that knee-jerk ‘must oppose him at every turn’ reaction to the demon, every single time Bill was _there_ , and _present_ (in any way), and seemed to _want_ something. It was a knee-jerk reaction, to want to oppose him. To try not to give in to him, to not let Bill get what he wanted. To attempt to stymie the dream demon in some way.

It was stupid not to think things through in more detail than that. --Especially when Bill had, yet again, changed up the script on him _yet again_ , just to make things _that much more difficult_ all over again for him.

(It had been even more stupid, Ford realized now, to have given in to his brother without really thinking _that_ through, either.)

\---

_Bill said nothing as Ford sat himself down next to him. He didn’t move, and he didn’t acknowledge Ford’s presence in the slightest._

_Ford felt increasingly uncomfortable and wrong-footed about this -- more than a little off-balance -- but he still stubbornly continued to sit beside Bill. And if the demon didn’t like it, well, tough! Ford would stay right here and…_

_...and_ what _exactly? Annoy the demon with his presence? Distract him from thinking for eight hours straight? Bill didn’t seem annoyed or distracted by his sitting there in the least. And purposefully antagonizing him would likely only lead to Bill then acting out_ while Stan was not around to stop him _, and then--_

_\--Ford was starting to see why Stan had looked at him like he was an idiot, when he’d ‘volunteered’ to watch Bill for the day. (What he didn’t quite understand was why Stan hadn’t tried to stop him. Because Bill--)_

_Ford felt even more uncomfortable as he sat there, as Bill continued not to say anything._

_Several times, Ford pulled in a breath to say something, and… didn’t. Largely because he simply could not think of anything non-inflammatory to say to him._

_After about five minutes of discomfort, and false stops and starts, Ford finally told himself he was being completely ridiculous, and simply said, "Bill."_

_...Bill didn’t respond._

_Ford looked over at him. Bill just kept breathing, and purposefully_ ignoring _him, and--_

_Ford clenched his jaw and looked away from the demon. He closed his eyes for a moment... ~~and tried not to shiver in place, because the very worst of his nightmares about Bill had generally entailed the demon **ignoring** him as he--~~_

_Was the demon just **ignoring** him now as some sort of play? Just to get a rise out of him? Just to make Ford feel like he was unworthy of notice? Like he was--_

_\-- **Fine.** Fine! Two could play at this ‘game’ of his! Ford wasn’t _required _to speak to the demon to watch him. He could simply sit where he was in silence, himself!_

_...And not purposefully antagonize the demon that was sitting next to him. And not have to listen to Bill say something that antagonized him right back. Without Stanley around to stop either of them._

_It occurred to Ford, as he glanced off to his side, away from the demon, that perhaps sitting in silence for the next eight hours was possibly the best of a set of horrible circumstances. ...Because, really, the only alternative was for Ford to either leave himself (and leave Bill to his own devices for eight hours) or to purposefully try and ‘mess with’ the control device for the time-shift, break it_ because _he was trying to mess with it (because that had been one of Bill’s built-in ‘safeguards’, that it would break if someone tried to alter it in a way that might actually work)... and then have a very annoyed and angry triangle demon on his hands, because Bill had already made it clear to him earlier that he did_ not _want to spend the next eight hours (in normal-time) working to fix it again._

_Ford let out a breath. He’d made a decision; he should simply commit to it. (He always felt better and more secure when he did that.)_

_So Ford settled in place, into a more comfortable seated posture (while trying to ignore how similar to Bill’s own posture it was), and pulled out a small notebook and pencil._

_...Because if nothing else, this should get a rise out of Bill_ now _. If his writing something in front of the demon didn’t get the demon speaking and annoying him, then it was likely that not much else Ford could do, short of enacting physical violence, would get a rise out of the demon for the duration of this eight-hour period._

_Ford grimaced slightly as he flipped it open -- it was blank; he’d only gotten it (and the pencil) the day prior from one of the Cottonworth’s stores that Stan had insisted on visiting for little bibs and bobs of odds and ends, for some reason -- and tried to determine what, exactly, he should start writing about._

_After a while, he tried simply moving his pencil around near to and in front of the page without actually touching the paper, almost as a test, deliberately not looking at Bill as he did so._

_Bill didn’t stir._

_...And Ford let out something of a tired sigh._

_Antagonizing and taunting the demon to draw his aggression (with the equivalent of a bright red flag) being out, Ford shook his head at himself, and stopped trying to think so hard on the subject of Bill Cipher. (Because_ that _never ended well...)_

_Ford instead put pencil to paper and just started doodling and writing anything that came to mind, to get around his slight case of stress-induced mental writer’s block._

_...which really meant that Ford defaulted to sketching and writing commentary on everything and anything that was physically surrounding him. And after not too long awhile, Ford started making short sketches of parts of their surroundings -- the desks, the shelves with their supplies, the control device for the time-shift spell..._

_...Oddly, the longer he doodled and jotted down nothing in particular, the better he felt, and the more he relaxed -- despite Bill sitting next to him._

_It was after a good while -- ten minutes, at least -- that Ford realized that he’d actually_ forgotten _that he was sitting next to the dream demon, when he was startled out of his thoughts and writing when something bumped up against this arm._

_And then Ford remembered._

_Ford stopped moving his pencil across the notebook paper. He held himself in place, and he closed his eyes and pulled in a breath._

_He let it out slowly. Because_ of course _Bill would not leave him alone. Why would he_ ever _think that--_

_...and..._

_...Bill wasn’t saying anything..._

_Ford realized he was waiting for the demon to say something that_ just wasn’t coming _for some reason._

_Ford reopened his eyes and slowly moved his arms down, with his hands’ contents, to his lap._

_"Bill," Ford began. "If you’re going to say something, just say it."_

_No response from the dream demon._

_Ford clenched his jaw, then unclenched it, and turned his head away from head-on, to face the demon that was leaning up against his side. "Bill--"_

_Then Ford stopped and blinked._

_...because Bill wasn’t actually_ looking _at his notebook. Bill was..._

_Ford stared down at the dream demon. Because Bill… was slumped up completely against his side. Bill’s head was practically tucked up against his left arm; it was at completely the wrong angle to view…_

_...And yes, Bill’s suit’s sensors could likely reproduce the contents of his notebook for his perusal, no matter which way he was facing, but..._

_Ford carefully ducked and craned his head to the side, moving his arm not at all, and realized…_

_...Bill’s eyes were still closed._

_The demon was… asleep???_

_\--No, he_ couldn’t _be! This was just some sort of--_

_Ford felt half-frustrated, and half-repulsed by this. (And admittedly quite angry as well -- just because Bill was wearing a protective suit that would prevent Ford from actually doing him any real physical damage did_ not _give him free-range to impose upon his personal space in such a manner,_ or _to--?!?!)_

_Ford had the sudden and nearly overwhelming urge to shove Bill off him **immediately** \--_

_\--and he actually started to raise his arm to do so, to elbow him off of him, when Bill stirred a little at his side, in a way which made Ford freeze. And in that time, the demon simply repositioned himself and settled back down, and…_

_This wasn’t some form of play or play-acting. The demon was actually asleep. Ford had seen this sort of thing on-camera enough, and out on that roof and the deck of the Stan O’ War, for long enough that he recognized the restless almost-discoordinated limb movements. The odd head-neck shifts. And… Bill was actually asleep._

_Ford let out a breath in disbelief as he settled back in place, arm held steady._

_And Ford considered the greater aspects of this situation which he’d found himself in._

_Bill was asleep. Ford could either shove Bill off of him, or let him stay where he was._

_Ford’s first inclination was to shove the demon off of him. If he did that, Bill would likely wake up, feel antagonized (and rightfully so, since that would rather be the point of performing the action), get aggressive with him, and it would lead to a fight that Ford would almost certainly not win, in any respect of the word._

_If Bill did_ not _wake up right away, performing such an action might potentially set off some of his suit’s defences. That would likely go even less well._

_If Ford_ didn’t _follow his natural inclination to push Bill off of him, though, then what would happen?_

_...The demon might sleep for several hours before he woke up, leaving Ford alone for the duration. And if the demon didn’t like the fact that he’d fallen asleep on Ford, well… Bill would only have himself to blame. And Ford could quite calmly point that out to him, giving the demon no excuse to start something with him without ‘breaking’ the rules of whatever ‘game’ Bill was playing with Stan with this ‘agreement’ of theirs._

_...Despite what some demons might say about him, Ford was_ not _a stupid man._

_Though Ford_ did _carefully raise his arm up and away from his side -- not willing to surrender an entire arm to the demon for hours at a time -- and carefully watching as Bill… still didn’t wake up, just settled in at his side a bit more fully instead,_ right _up against him._

_Ford let out a half-annoyed sigh. If Bill wasn’t going to wake up to_ that _and leave him alone…_

_Ford carefully lowered his arm a bit, though still kept it raised up enough to keep his elbow and such largely above Bill’s head._

_He switched knees and held his left arm (and his notebook) to leaning up against that, as he picked up his writing again, Bill breathing slowly at his side._

_...It wasn’t as entirely uncomfortable as he’d been expecting it to be. Bill was a slightly cool presence at his side, and..._

_...Stan had said something about Bill ‘running cooler’ than most, hadn’t he? And Bill had said… he’d only agreed to sleep next to him on the floor of the living room that first time because..._

_He’d called Ford a living space heater._

_Ford frowned down at the demon._

_Because that… wasn’t quite right, really. Not for human bodies._

_Ford moved his pencil to his left hand (along with his notebook) and slowly, and rather experimentally, moved his right arm and hand down and around, to carefully and lightly--_

_\--Ford froze in place and stiffened as Bill literally_ collapsed _up against his side, making a soft ‘burr’ing sort of sound as he did so._

_He’d… he’d only been trying to take his temperature, moving his hand in towards Bill’s temple. He hadn’t--_

_Ford stared down at this in pure disbelief, wide-eyed at how Bill was… was practically_ snuggled _up against his side, now._

_This.. this couldn’t be… This..._

_...And then a thought slowly came over him._

_And Ford slowly lowered his hand to the top of Bill’s head._

_Bill unconsciously let out a soft huff of breath, but he didn’t move much. Just did that odd head-neck movement again and made a sound that--_

_Ford felt a slight chill go through him. He’d heard that particular set of chittering noises before. Bill himself had made them._

_...But it hadn’t been the set he’d made for his own name. No. It had been the set he’d used for..._

_Ford swallowed, and he carefully removed his hand from Bill’s head._

_He heard Bill make an odd sort of clicking-cheep under his breath that sounded more like a soft protest than anything, and..._

_Ford tilted his head back and closed his eyes._

_...And he thought on what Dipper had told him._

_Bill couldn’t have a brother. He couldn’t have had one. He didn’t know the first thing about having a sibling, what that was like._

_~~He wouldn’t have treated him, or Stan, or the niblings anything like how he had, if he had any sense at all of what he’d be destroying if--~~ _

_\--The only thing that made sense was that Bill was_ confused _on the issue, somehow._

_And Bill had said something about that, too, hadn’t he. He’d outright_ admitted _it, once before. --He’d said he’d_ Seen _something, and ‘gotten confused’ for a very long time..._

_It would make sense, if Bill had Looked into another two-dimensional dimension at some point, and Seen something that had mirrored his life enough that..._

_Ford let out an breath, and pulled his head back down to level, turning it away from Bill. --It would_ make sense _that Bill might be_ confused _on more than one thing. The demon was certainly confused about_ him _, and what_ he _wanted. It only stood to reason that-- well._

_~~Of course, when had Bill Cipher ever~~ _ ~~made sense.~~ _~~\--Never, that’s when.~~ _

_And of course, there was also the fact that Bill was insane._

_So, if Bill thought, was confused enough to be convinced that… he might have, at some point had a brother..._

_Well. That would leave Bill with the idea of having a ‘brother’ without ever having had to cultivate or understand the responsibility of having one, wouldn’t it._

_...and that had likely led to Bill considering ‘having’ a sister and actually thinking he might be able to do it. Stan had given him the idea and the other demon had latched onto it. And now Bill was… actually trying to be a proper sibling to the younger demon. And yet--_

_Ford let out a tired sigh. --It wasn’t going to work, and Bill should know that. Demons didn’t act like..._

_~~Except that sometimes the two demons did almost seem like they really did care about each other, and--~~ _

_~~\--the dream demon was going to get burned by this badly, wasn’t he. And Ford couldn’t even say that he was looking forward to it, because...~~ _

_Bill was well and truly asleep. Ford grimaced and ran his hand over his face. ...Bill wasn’t actually a ‘demon’ from the Outside, was he. --Ford had heard stories of Outsiders before, monstrous larger-than-life individuals who did as they pleased, nations rising and falling at their pleasure, and simply…_

_Ford sighed. In retrospect, the figures on those stories sounded quite a great deal like demons in general, but he’d never actually quite made the connection before._

_He didn’t like to think about it, but demons were capable of great ‘good’ as well as great evil. They could spend centuries building up a race of people, making them rise to soaring heights..._

_...but the problem was that, sooner or later, they grew_ bored _. And when that happened, they knocked down everything they’d helped to build, like a toddler gleefully knocking down a tower of blocks that they’d built up for the sole purpose of being able to do just that._

_And hadn’t Miz mentioned she’d had worshippers? And a planet of people that she’d created and looked after until they turned their backs on her? And were subsequently destroyed?_

_Bill was the same. Only Bill did such things in far larger_ scope _. Ford had seen--_

_Ford let out a breath. Bill hadn’t knocked over any of the ones he’d showed him in the last thirty years_ yet _, at least. (Not as far as Ford knew, and news like that -- especially news about Bill Cipher -- traveled_ fast _through the multiverse.) But the way the denizens of Bill’s galaxies and dimensions acted towards other demons... in many cases, just_ letting them kill them _without issue or protest..._

_~~\--smiling about it as they died, so fanatically devoted to Bill that they **looked forward** to **enjoying** the experience of **dying** at the hands of--~~ _

_Ford swallowed hard, trying to keep down bile._

_He closed his eyes and forced himself to wait until his stomach settled, focusing on his breathing, and the color of concrete under his boots, the heft of the weight of his feet when he moved them slightly, the smell and taste of the air in the room around them..._

_Slowly, his stomach settled. Slowly, he reopened his eyes._

_Stanley had no idea what he was trying to control and bring to heel. And Ford couldn’t explain it to him. Not without damning himself in the process._

_And, at this point, Ford was too tired from fighting for so long to tell Stan the truth. To try to warn them all_ properly _, and then lose his family and his friends over it as they questioned him and realized_ how _and_ why _he knew all of these things._

_~~\--what he’d done--~~ _

_(--what Bill had done--)_

_(--what Bill had made him do--)_

_~~\--what Bill had used him to do--~~ _

_Ford shivered in place._

_And then he glanced down again at the dream demon at his side._

_And Ford had another, absolutely terrible thought._

_He shouldn’t do it. Really, he shouldn’t. But..._

_Bill had messed with him so badly over the years. Wasn’t it just_ fair _to try and get at least a_ little _of his own back?_

_Ford got a slight, slightly mean smile._

_...And he carefully pulled the left side of his trenchcoat back, out from under the demon._

_And once he’d gotten it loose, and the demon had fussed and finished curling up_ right against _his sweater-covered side, he slowly pulled it back into place._

_And he wasn’t quite whistling to himself as he went back to his drawing and writing, and the demon at his side slowly began to restlessly stir in fits and starts..._

\---

Ford sighed ruefully. ...In retrospect, he should have remembered how the niblings had told him about how Bill had kicked off those covers on the deck of the boat, when the other demon had tried covering him with them. Stan had said something to that effect before, Mabel had let him know the details of when Bill had complained to her about such earlier, and… it was rather clear that Bill still wasn’t quite over it yet.

Bill had woken up rather abruptly after that, and gotten _very_ annoyed with Ford for having ‘tried to smother him with his coat’. Ford had taken it with what he believed had been quite a great measure of aplomb.

He’d calmly responded to Bill -- _apologized_ for waking him up, in fact. It hadn’t even been a lie, quite -- he _hadn’t_ been trying to wake Bill up, in doing what he’d done. He really _had_ been trying to make the demon a little warmer.

And frankly, he’d been looking forward to seeing whatever confused and off-put response the demon might make at finding him in the (rather, _incredibly_ ) compromising position that the demon had put himself in, that Ford had only partially-enabled by his silent non-uncompliance.

It had turned out both better and worse than he’d expected.

Ford grimaced and let out a breath. Bill hadn’t fallen asleep right after that again, settling down again elsewhere to curl up into that loose-ball sort of posture that he’d taken the last time that he and Stan had been down in that basement with him, to fall asleep. No, Bill -- after his initial ranting at Ford for trying to smother him (which he hadn’t) -- had stopped and stared at him for a good long minute of time.

And then Bill had intoned how that had been INTERESTING, and tricked Ford into holding his hands up in such a way that...

Ford shivered under the covers. He _never_ should have listened to his brother. He never should have agreed.

He never should have said _yes_.

Ford quietly lay in place for awhile, thinking about what had happened.

...And then he flipped back a few pages in his notebook to what he’d written there, after Bill _had_ finally fallen asleep yet again, and stayed asleep through the next several hours of time until the time-shift had ended.

’Zodiac’. ‘Left-hand, facing inward’. ‘Right-hand, _facing outward_.’

’Facing inward’ was like... facing Bill, right in the face, facing the Zodiac Circle _from the outside_. Looking at it on the cave wall.

’Facing outward’ was like... facing _away_ from the cave wall, with Bill at your back. Looking out in the same direction that Bill’s Eye was gazing, looking...

Looking _outward_ , as if you were on Bill’s side, at his side, right there along with him…

Looking outward, at and on Bill’s side. Hands-up, pressing out as if you were trying to escape the wall. Reach up your right hand, to press out, to push out, and...

Looking inward, opposing Bill, standing and staring at him head-on. Raise up your left hand and try to push back against him, to stop--

...It was all a matter of perspective, wasn’t it? --Except it _wasn’t_. Not for Stanley, and not for Bill.

Are you on my side or aren’t you?

_You’re supposed to be on my side!_

Ford was on his brother’s side. Bill was, ostensibly in some way, on Stan’s side.

And when Bill had grabbed up Ford’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together and frowned in concentration--

\--they’d both lit up blue.

Ford had jerked back, and Bill had let go immediately himself. He’d looked _surprised_.

He’d called it _interesting_. He’d walked away from him and begun to pace.

\--He’d started making _chittering_ noises to himself, working his hands and fingers, and downright looking _confused_ at times as he’d muttered to himself in fragments of languages that--

Ford had stared.

And then another realization had hit him with the force of a semi-truck.

(--Not the realization about left- and right-handedness, or Bill’s frustration and lack of insight into the matter. Thinking Ford was supposed to be his ‘right-hand’ man because he’d refused to think that Ford was and could or should be anything but ‘on his side’, whether he liked it or not -- no, that had come later, after Bill had fallen asleep again and Ford had sat down to resume his writing, left along with his own thoughts…)

No, the realization that had hit him _then_ had been…

...that there was a seventeen-year-old female human girl with short, two-tone black- and blue-colored hair, standing and pacing back and forth in front of him, in that basement, muttering to herself as she paced, looking _confused_ and _frustrated_ and...

Ford had never seen Bill look _confused_ before. And when that had happened...

Ford hadn’t known what Bill was supposed to look like. What that would look like -- confusion -- in his Eye, on his front face, his limited expression, the arrangement of his thin stick-like black limbs, how he would be floating...

Ford had realized what he had, and hadn’t been seeing.

And he realized what Stanley had been seeing for all of this time, instead.

Stan had been seeing a teenaged boy, and then a teenaged girl; he had no idea what Bill was _supposed_ to look like, in each and every one of his various and mercurial moods.

Ford had encountered Bill enumerable times on the other side of the portal, and not just in the Dreamscape or Mindscape, either. Sometimes, he’d had the unfortunate luck to encounter Bill when the demon had been inhabiting the body of one of his many, many (far far too many other) puppets of his. And, over the years and decades, Ford had _gotten used to_ visually (and automatically) mapping what he was seeing when Bill was inhabiting those bodies, to what Bill actually looked like. --What Bill would be doing in the Mindscape, what he would look like, how he’d be moving around and gesticulating, if he hadn’t been bound by a more-rigid physical body instead.

Ford hadn’t actually been _seeing_ what Stan and the others had been seeing, whenever they interacted with and talked to Bill. Not in the same way. Not in the slightest.

They had all seen a teenaged boy-or-girl, moving around and acting largely in teenage-boy-or-girl-ish ways.

While he, himself, had seen...

\--It was terribly dangerous, his family being exposed to Bill when he looked like this, for long and extended periods of time. Not least of which because Bill was not a teenager, not a girl, not a _human being_ , and the demon had no sense of decency, morality, anything _like_ approaching human empathy (for humans or anyone else), and simply no concept of restraint.

But Bill looked like he did. Because he looked like _they_ did, now.

Ford had actually spent some time after that, down in that basement, trying to sketch Bill as he saw him. _Realistically_ , as he physically was right now. ...And yet stick-thin arms and single too-large eyes kept sneaking their way into his sketches.

He wasn’t quite there yet, but he would be. He realized that he’d need to be able to pay attention to what Bill was ‘actually’ _visibly_ doing, in order to properly combat it in the future, the impact it might have on his family, on anyone else who was seeing his as… something that he wasn’t.

And it was of pressing and _dire_ importance that he did work to combat the effects of that, of that image of Bill, mentally and physically.

Because humans were pack animals. They grouped. They bonded, and tried to find similarities in each other, the longer they simply _lived_ in close proximity to each other. And when the ‘fear of the other’ didn’t get in the way… (and it wouldn’t, with Bill looking human enough that the sight of him wouldn’t inspire anything but a sense of familiarity, over a long enough period of time...) They generally _tried_ to get along. And when a sociopathic individual entered their midst, the first and most natural basic instinct of most humans was to placate, capitulate, and _conform_ to their wants and demands...

...because sociopaths were highly dangerous individuals that would lash out and injure or kill on a whim -- _not caring_ about the physical damage or personal cost most sane individuals cared about having inflicted upon themselves in the interim, so long as they doubled-down until they overpowered you, got what they wanted, and _won_ \-- and the common basic survival instinct that most humans had to that was to stay below notice, give them what they wanted, and _hope_ that they passed you over without paying the least bit of attention to you, to not harm or to at least not actively hurt.

But attempting to placate Bill wouldn’t work. Bill _wasn’t_ going to leave them alone. He’d only demand more, and worse, over time.

And Bill, by any measure of the word, _was_ a sociopath by human terms and measures. He had no empathy for humans; Bill and his own wants were all-important to him, he didn't _care_ about pain, and other human beings were nothing more than objects or toys to him. Bill didn’t _treat_ people like people, with their own autonomy and their own self-actualization -- worthy of respect and a right to have and control their own existence without his terrible interference, simply for being alive.

Bill had to be stopped. But Stan… when Stan looked at Bill Cipher now, he saw a _kid_. A teenager that was lost and didn’t know how to function in human society, and...

...no. No, that wasn’t quite right. Stan knew at least some of the dangers, but… Stan thought he could handle them. Likely because Stan had encountered other dangerous individuals in his past and survived _them_. Ford remembered what Stan had yelled out at him, so very long ago, before being shoved into the portal. He’d spent time in prison in three different countries. What he’d had to deal with there, and what his brother might have been involved with to get himself tossed into jail before that...

Stan had never talked about it, and Ford had never pressed him. But he knew that Stan believed that he could handle most everything, after surviving what he had for those ten years before Ford had contacted him, and he’d shown up on his doorstep in the middle of winter, answering his call for help.

Stan was playing a very dangerous game here with Bill, for stakes he didn’t truly understand. Ford hadn’t even understood them, until Bill and that other demon had started talking about time travel and time- and age-reversal and bringing people back to life...

Bill wasn't going to let them go. And Stan _couldn’t_ handle Bill like he had any of the human criminals he’d known. Bill wasn’t human. He didn’t react like a human did. Didn’t think like humans did.

Patting Bill on the head a few times might be slowly training or teaching Bill’s current _body_ to become used to the sensation and react to it accordingly in a human-like manner, but that wouldn’t have any effect on Bill himself. Bill was a being of Mind, a being of pure energy. Bill didn’t let little things like what was happening to the body he was currently sitting and squatting within, like a spider pulling puppet-threads in its web, impact _him_ in any meaningful way.

(And Ford still wasn’t sure how that younger demon reacted to things, she _seemed_ to take more stock in physical sensations, but it could all be an act to seem more human, to trick them into giving her sympathy.)

Ford himself wouldn’t fall for any of that, though. He knew what Bill was, and did. And he also knew what Bill wasn’t. Bill _wasn’t_ some human teenager deserving of his basic needs being met, and the demon knew it. He was--

Ford blinked.

And then he flipped to another page and wrote that down. And stared at it.

And then he wrote down what Stan was doing for Bill. And he stared at _that_ again.

...Bill knew that he didn’t deserve any of it. The demon wasn’t stupid; he knew that Stanley wasn’t meeting his basic day-to-day bodily needs, _just because_. Bill knew, just as Stan knew, that _Stan didn’t have to do it_.

In fact, Stan had every reason in the world _not_ to do it. After what Bill had done, and tried to do, to his family...

And yet Stan was doing it all anyway. He’d practically forced it on the demon, and Bill had… taken it, yes, but…

This wasn’t… this wasn’t placation. Bill never would have thought to demand such from them in the first place. Which meant...

...This wasn’t placation, and it wasn’t some kind of offering, peace-full or ~~worshipping or~~ placatory or otherwise. This was more of a… favor? From Stan? That _could_ be rescinded at any time, except...

Stan had said that, no matter what, he was still going to do this for Bill. Food, clothing, shelter, and schooling. (And yes, Ford had realized not too far into things that Stan had made the definition of ‘schooling’ flexible enough to account for punishments in the form of ‘penalties’ when Bill acted out in ways that not a one of them liked, but…)

...Was the ‘game’ that Stan was trying to play with the demon one of, ‘try to act like a human kid, and I’ll treat you like one?’

That didn’t make any sense, though. Bill clearly did _not_ want to play such a ‘game’ of any sort with Stan or anyone else, with the way that the demon had continuously -- and _repeatedly_ \-- protested the label.

Stan was giving Bill something that the demon wanted, and could go out and get himself, but had not and would not have asked for himself.

...No. No, actually. That wasn’t quite right. Bill didn’t quite _want_ it, even if his body needed these things in order to keep working properly, for Bill to continue to survive, and Stan...

(No, that wasn’t quite right, either. Technically, Bill could quite possibly change the ‘ruleset’ acting on his own body, couldn’t he? If he could make it so he, Ford, didn’t have to breathe to survive, then...)

Ford pulled in a breath, and jotted a few more thoughts down, as he mused over these things in more detail, all over again.

And it finally occurred to him, as he took a step back from everything, that maybe it was… a similar sort of problem as Bill had apparently been dealing with, with Ford’s own Deal with him, prior.

Ford hadn’t wanted just and only someone to act as and be his ‘friend’, as part of some _deal_ \-- not some simple transaction, ‘you’ll give me this, and I’ll give you that’. Friends weren’t something that you _paid_ for, to have around you. No. --He’d wanted someone who clearly _**wanted**_ to be his friend, Deal or no Deal in place. Bill _had_ been right about that, embarrassing as it was.

And Ford hadn’t realized that that could be a transaction, too; he’d thought he’d just been solidifying something they’d already had, making it official, at the time. Not...

And that was the problem. Bill didn’t just want his Zodiac; he wanted them _on his side_. Bill already _considered_ all of them to be wholly and uniquely _his_. ...But that didn’t mean that they had to like him, or want to get along with him. And Bill knew that. Bill realized that.

The demon knew full well the difference between willing, and unwilling, help. He knew the difference between willing and unwilling interference in his affairs. Ford had _seen_ people loyal to Bill work with and for other demons, sometimes at Bill’s bequest, sometimes not as they were forced into servitude instead--

\--and then turn around and stab those demons in the back the very first chance that they got.

Bill knew the difference, Bill wanted his Zodiac to be working for him ~~_with_ him?~~ \-- for _whatever_ reason -- and Bill… had seemed _excited_ down in that basement at the prospect of Ford now being ‘on his side’, because they were _both_ on _Stanley’s_ side in things, now.

(They’d both been ‘aligned’ in not wanting something. Stan had ~~convinced~~ told them both to do it anyway. And they’d done it. --Ford had said ‘yes’ to something, to Bill, because he hadn’t said ‘no’ to Stan. He _should_ have said no. ~~And now…~~ )

Ford flexed his hands.

Bill had only been confused, and then _frustrated_ about everything, about how it had come about, because _he didn’t understand how Stan had done it._

...Because apparently, Bill had realized that that was going to be the ‘deal’-breaker for the agreement: Ford remaining outside of it completely, and _not_ coming over to Stan’s (and thus his, Bill’s) side, also. _That_ was apparently what Bill had thought that Stan was not going to be able to pull off. And...

...Stan wasn’t just giving Bill things grudgingly. Stan was _actively making sure_ that Bill was being given food, clothing, shelter, and schooling. Stan was acting, by all accounts, like he _wanted_ to give Bill these things, not just like he was merely giving them because he thought he had to… and would then be looking for a way and a reason to stab Bill in the back as soon as he could later.

...And refusing to perform the circle with the rest of them likely fed further into that.

Stan was likely trying to convince Bill that he, and the rest of his family, were not a threat to Bill, by doing this. By showing this willingness to… _get along_ with him.

...It wasn’t going to work. Bill had _expectations_ for his ‘friends’, and they were demonic in nature. Stan wasn’t going to be able to live up to any of it, and he wasn’t going to want to _do_ any of it.

Ford let out a breath, and jotted down a few more notes. He was going to need to remember all this, for the next time he got a proper moment alone with his brother. He _didn’t_ want to leave anything out.

_You’re supposed to be on my side!_ \--Which was really just another way of saying: _you’re mine, so why don’t you act like it?_ Why won’t you do what I want? _Why won’t you do what I tell you to do--_

Ford shivered in place under the covers.

And then he froze in place for a moment (and nearly held his breath), as he heard Stan shift in place under the covers, across the cabin from him, in his own cot.

...Ford slowly let out a breath, as he heard Stan settle back down again.

_’Just a little more...’_ he silently promised himself, and his brother. _’I just need to write a little more down, and then I’ll be able to fall asleep, Stan. I promise.’_

Bill might want them ‘on his side’ (or apparently, _potentially_ ‘on Stan’s side with him’ -- something which Bill had not seemed to be lying about for the moment, and that Stan would need to know almost immediately when a good moment alone with him arose), but… Bill hadn’t actually needed anyone to be ‘on his side’ before: not any person or thing, and not any demon -- singular or horde of them or otherwise.

Bill had done perfectly fine for himself in the past without having anyone actually ‘watching his back’ without being willing to stab him in it, and Ford doubted that such had changed at all in the slightest with this latest ‘return’ of his, human’-ish’ body (that Bill also complained about incessantly) or not.

Bill _didn’t_ need them, or anyone, to be _wanting_ to work with him, in order to do anything or get anything he’d wanted to get done _done_ in the past or present, and Ford doubted that that would change in the future, far-flung or otherwise. No, not in the slightest.

So what was Bill _doing_ with all this, then? Ford couldn’t imagine that Bill actually cared about the long-term consequences of his actions, demon or not. In Ford’s experience, if Bill wanted to do something, he simply did it; if Bill wanted something, he went out and got it, willingness of whoever was involved in the situation or not be damned.

...And the fact of the matter was, Bill _could_ obtain food, clothing, shelter, and schooling for himself, he _didn’t_ need to rely on others to do it, and Ford could not imagine Bill _putting up with_ Stan, or the niblings, or himself, and all their own various wants and demands, for those things, when he could simply expend a slight amount of effort to obtain all four of those things for himself, and not have to deal with any of them on their own level, by any ways or means. It didn’t make sense.

_Bill_ didn’t make sense.

~~Then again, when had he ever? ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

_’I ain’t surprised. The kid’s emotionally stressed,’_ Stan had told him two nights ago along their own personal timelines, during that night they’d all spent down in the basement together. Stan had said it in response to Ford’s surprise that Bill had fallen asleep almost immediately upon Stan managing to half-order, half-convince the dream demon to take a nap first, prior to working on that specialized ‘time-stop’ spell-device of his...

Stan hadn’t really explained it beyond ‘the kid’ being sure that he was right (well, of course Bill thought so), and being told he was doing it wrong and could do better (though why Stan would think Bill would care that he’d been told anything like that, was beyond Ford…). And that ‘the kicker’ had been that Bill… had actually acted almost as though maybe he _had_ begun to realize that he’d been doing something wrong? (...Not that Bill actually cared about anything like that, either. The idea was simply ludicrous. Ludicrous.)

Ford severely doubted that the idea of doing things _less well than he ‘should have been’ doing them_ (really, he shouldn’t have been doing them at all!) had (or would ever truly have) had an impact on Bill Cipher in the least. --Frankly, Ford thought it _far_ more likely that Bill had been feeling a similar strain on his own ‘human-ish’ body during that session with the teacher, as Mr. Harman had been feeling himself, and that _that_ was what had tired Bill out.

But what _was_ true about this whole situation was that Bill _was_ holding back with them. He _wasn’t_ being ‘as bad as he _could_ be’ with any of them; he actually seemed to be even holding back with the niblings, at times. Ford _knew_ what being ‘played with’ by Bill was like, and it was _NOTHING_ like--

Ford pulled in a hard breath, and he resisted the urge to curl into a ball under the covers, even as he did shift in place slightly, unable to stop himself from reflexively curling in on himself a little bit. ...Purely for physical comfort and warmth, of course. The covers weren’t _that_ thick, after all...

’Emotional stress’, really. Ford shifted in place under the covers. It was far more likely that Bill had tired himself out, and was moving back to his ‘old’ habits of sleeping for at least twelve to sixteen hours a day. (And yes, Ford had timed him from the video feed. Bill either spent that much time supine per day, or seemingly asleep --though now, Ford was starting to believe that, during those times, Bill was _actually_ asleep. Because he’d seen Bill on the deck of the Stan O’War, and that rooftop, and down in the hold, and now for a second time on the concrete floor of the Harman’s basement, and… he had, in fact, been asleep.)

And as far as Ford could tell, Bill sleeping did not actually translate to Bill being able to move outside of the confines of his current body, potentially due to the anchor he apparently had on his back.

...which, according to Dipper, Stan apparently had a strikingly similar-looking tattoo of, on his own back -- one that Stan apparently also denied having, but definitely knew that he had, and wouldn’t let anyone look at. Ford hadn’t quite had the opportunity to ask his brother about it yet -- though he’d meant to on several occasions before; he tended to become distracted in the moment when he was already in something of a bad mood, and every time Stan had accosted him to talk lately, that had been his state of mind at the time -- so Ford made himself another note in his notebook to remember to discuss it with him.

It would likely be easiest to manage before they left here, since they were sharing a room again, but… now that he thought on it, even when they were on the Stan O’ War, Stan had been careful not to show him his back. Even when they’d been swapping clothes in the Fearamid, Stanley had...

Ford frowned. then mentally shook it off. He’d just ask Stan directly. He’d determine how to proceed from there, once Stan told him whatever he thought and felt about the matter..

Ford let out a sigh, and flipped forward in his notebook. He quickly jotted down a few points next, on the status of the health of Mr. Harman -- good enough, considering what Bill had put him through, though apparently his mental state and capabilities still needed some time to recover. Given that apparently the man had thought that he (Ford) and Bill (‘the alien’) might have somehow needed or _wanted_ the ‘alone time’ together down in that basement, to work _something_ or another out together amongst themselves, as his excuse for doing what he’d done with setting up that delayed-activation third time-shift there…

Ford let out another sigh, finished jotting down what were more mnemonic notes to himself than actual explanations of anything that had occurred, and then moved on to quick notes on what had happened in the next two and a half hours after that.

...Really, it had been almost a whirlwind tour of the globe, courtesy of Bill and several portals with _green_ -colored event horizons. Apparently, they were ‘scientific’ in nature -- science-based, not magical -- and thus Bill had felt perfectly justified in using them to jump himself (and Ford, who was following him) all over the globe as he picked up fruit preserves and black tea in England, mandarin oranges and green tea fresh from China, blini and sour cream from Russia, dijon mustard and Savora and charcuterie (among other cheeses) from France, some sort of lingonberry spread in Sweden, several different types of cookies and breads from a bakery in New York (of all places), several different types of beverages from an open-air ‘bar’ in Hawaii, and (rather unbelievingly) matzo crackers and matzo ball soup from a deli tucked in the corner of a city in another part of New Jersey not too far away from Glass Shard Beach.

Ford had pointed out that Bill didn’t _eat_ most of these things himself, and after the second time that he'd tried to point that out, Bill had given him a _look_ that had Ford resolving to just let the lunatic demon buy whatever he wanted, ‘inedible’ as he liked to put it, or not.

Bill had paid for it all with gold out of his hat, the goods he’d bought (in rather significant quantities, no less) had all disappeared right back into it, and no-one -- not a single, solitary person -- had complained to the fact that Bill was decidedly _not_ using the proper coin of the realm in any single country that they had visited. Not a one.

(Yes, Ford knew that there was some truth to the fact that gold was the closest thing in the multiverse to a universal currency, but even this had been ridiculous to see, and have to watch.)

Bill had been nothing but polite to each and every one of those bakers and craftsmen. He'd spoken with a native-speaker's fluency in the language being used at each location, and… really Ford was hardly surprised by any of it.

What _was_ surprising was that Bill _hadn’t_ been trying to show off. (Ford _knew_ what **that** looked like, and it always turned out _horribly_ for him.)

He had followed Bill on his portal-enabled ‘jet’-setting little shopping trip (Ford could hardly call it an adventure, as it hadn’t exactly been exciting), to locales that he and Stan simply hadn’t gone nearly as far inland to see, and...

Frankly, if Ford had been spending the time with someone who he’d actually _liked_ , he might have actually enjoyed it.

Once the impromptu ‘shopping trip’ had been over, Bill had ‘science’-portaled them off to Egypt next -- for a meal-break, apparently. Given the Mediterranean diet at the hotel where they ended up lounging on pillows as they ate (well, _Bill_ lounged; Ford ‘just sat’...), it wasn’t much of a surprise once Ford saw what Bill had ordered: all fruits, vegetables, and legumes, and no meat (or mushrooms) whatsoever.

Bill had spoken to him hardly at all during any of this. And he hadn’t spoken much more as they’d finished their drinks (tea, in Bill’s case, of course, and something called Qasab, in Ford’s, that had been quite sweet, cold, and energizing) and then they’d both taken what would be their next-to-last portal to...

Ford had to set down his pencil and notebook for a moment, and cover his eyes as he let out a sigh.

And after awhile, he was able to reach out and pick them both up again.

...Bill had taken them to Gravity Falls, Oregon. Not the town, but somewhere quite specific in the forest, underneath it: the spaceship crash site. Because apparently one existed in this dimension, too.

Bill had, quite frankly, spent no time in absolutely _decimating_ the site. They’d simply shown up in the hallway outside the control room, Bill had explained as he’d walked, and then… Bill had done what he’d intended to do. And Ford hadn’t stopped him.

...Frankly, if Ford had thought of it, he’d have done it himself. But he hadn’t. Bill had.

It had been something Bill had wanted to do, wanted as an outcome, and Ford hadn’t been able to bring himself to stop him.

...Because Bill hadn’t wanted the local Stanford Pines to _ever_ have access to the proper technology to potentially be able to put together a working interdimensional portal at any point. _Ever._

And Ford couldn’t help but agree with him. The Stanford here was… _wrong_ in some way. The way he acted... He made Ford feel uncomfortable, just being around him, now. There was something… that… That younger him was NOT him.

And when Ford had declared that, finally, straight to Bill’s face, expecting an objection, or perhaps a laugh… "Yes," Bill had said, instead, while not even looking at him, as he’d continued doing whatever he’d been doing with the alien panel he’d been working and tapping away at. And Ford had been stunned into silence.

"It’s a different dimension, Sixer," Bill had told him. "Don’t expect everything to be the same."

"...Because you weren’t really here?" Ford had said slowly, wrapping his arms around himself and feeling slightly lost. Because really, the only main difference Bill had remarked upon as _being_ a difference between their dimension, and this one, had been...

"Yes," Bill had said, again without looking at him, as he’d yanked off that panel. "I wasn’t really here."

Ford had felt a terrible mix of relief and confusion ~~and dread~~ at what Bill had just told him. And as a result, he hadn’t tried to talk with Bill for the rest of the trip. (...Not that he’d been trying to strike up a conversation, civil or otherwise, with Bill at any point really, before then. But...)

Bill had finished what he was doing, which Ford really couldn’t find it in him to argue with, and then they’d green-portaled right back to an alleyway at the corner of the far end of the boardwalk of Glass Shard Beach.

...It had been the near-end to the boat, though. And then they’d both simply… walked up to the boat with the others, and been met with the sight of the other demon on-deck, and...

_’Well. Not quite,’_ Ford thought dourly, as he added one last line to his notebook, before quietly flipping it closed and tucking it, the penlight, and his pencil, back in his breast pocket.

Because the one thing that Bill had said to him, almost as a parting shot, as they’d made their way to the boat...

...in response to _Sixer’s_ snark-filled and under-the-breath comment to the two of them, asking who had been looking after whom...

...had been for Bill to say that _he_ had been _babysitting_ ‘that Stanford’, because apparently Ford was so very low on the totem-pole of the ‘hierarchy’ of the priority-list that the two _lowest_ on it (Dipper and Mabel) had been taking care of _him_ and worrying about _his_ health...

...and that because their health and well-being was dependent to some extent on his, and Ford was under _their_ care and protection...

Ford had protested rather strongly under his breath at Bill. Bill had merely replied that he shouldn’t have been surprised at the news, since Melody had _really_ been called in to babysit _him_ , and not Bill. _Bill_ contested that he _himself_ was wholly capable of not missing sleep or forgetting to stop and eat at mealtimes without prompting, unlike Ford himself...

Stan had cut in with a sigh, telling them both that Melody was looking over them both, but… It had still left Sixer giggling, Lee looking more than a little bit concerned, and Ford feeling more than a little snappish, as they’d all gotten themselves back up onto the deck.

(The quick rejoinder-slash-’report’ by Bill -- to Stanley -- that Ford hadn’t slept much _again_ that afternoon, _or_ eaten very much of the ‘light snack’ Bill had made sure that they’d both sat down and ate afterwards, as they’d been climbing the ladder one after the other, _also_ hadn’t helped Ford’s mood all that much.)

Ford knew that it was wrong, as he burrowed himself under the covers a bit better -- head poking out a bit this time -- but he’d still felt an uneasy yet almost heady kind of satisfaction, as the last thing he’d written down in his notebook, as confirmed by Bill:

_This local ‘Sixer’ IS NOT ME._

Ford let out a breath and closed his eyes.

~~And he carefully tried to keep himself from dwelling on the fact that, apparently, it was _Bill’s_ interference that had somehow made a difference, to make him different, in his own dimension, to make him far more different than…~~

\---

Saturday morning came early, and as Miz and Stan had planned together to have happen the next morning, after they’d all had breakfast together -- and to several exclamations of glee from Miz, upon seeing what-all Bill had bought for her to be able to scan, use, and eat (from _somewhere_ , the kid was being not quite cagey about it by carefully not-saying anything, but when Stan looked to Ford, his brother just shook his head slightly where he was standing with his arms-crossed, leaning up against the countertop by the doorway, so he figured it couldn’t be too much of a problem)...

...the boys were left to run the ‘attraction’ to charge tourists to get a photo of the dragon for the day.

Stan wanted to see how well Lee could sell it, how well he’d be able to handle himself and others -- dealing with customers, charming the schmucks into parting with their cash, all of it. Stan figured he could step in or give more lessons if he needed to, but… hey, you learned by doing. And Stan wanted to make sure that he got the good stuff that actually worked down early, just in case...

Miz, on the other hand, was more focused on the other twin. She wanted to see if little Sixer could learn to talk to people. After all, being a successful scientist wasn’t just about being book smart; you needed a level of charisma to get anywhere in life. Heck, his hero Tesla was as successful as he had been mainly due to how intense his personality had been. Tesla had been eccentric, but he’d also known how to charm people into letting him get away with being the weirdo that he’d been.

And yeah, if Sixer wanted to get anywhere in life, he’d need to learn how to talk to people better -- Stan agreed with her on that point. Sixer had seemed a little miffed at their evaluation of his ability to socialize, but Lee had outnumbered him, agreeing with the other two instead of him.

Stan watched the twins at a distance, and as he kept half-an-eye on the kids, Stan also kept up a conversation with Miz.

"So you’re thinkin’ of making that dragon illusion thing, like, what? A local cryptid?" Stan asked Miz as he sat with her on the beach.

(The kid and Ford were back at the boat, doing who knew what. Stan wasn’t too worried; his brother didn’t seem ‘addicted’ or nothin’, and neither of ‘em seemed to be at each other’s throats, even after being left ‘all alone’ to each others’ company the previous afternoon. Hell, Ford hadn’t even seemed that _annoyed_ , until Sixer had said something that had had Bill getting all… y’know, demon-y talk and stuff at them. And the two of ‘em _had_ both survived yesterday together without killing or maiming each other to death or disfigurement, so Stan figured Ford and the kid could probably handle not-killing-themselves-or-each-other- _maybe_ for a second day in a row, right?)

(...Eh, the two of ‘em were both out on deck, and sound traveled. He’d hear them fighting, if anything went _really_ wrong...)

Miz nodded. "Like how that one town’s got the mothman or something. I know Jersey’s supposed to have the Jersey Devil, but the dragon’s cooler, more noticable, and I can ensure that it won’t attack anyone. I can make it so that it’ll stop being solid if anyone gets too close, so it literally couldn’t hurt anyone."

_Supposed to_ have a Jersey Devil? --They absolutely did! ...Uh, assuming they hadn’t scared it off after that thing with the Sibling Brothers and the net, way back when. But… yeah, a ‘real’ attraction would be too dangerous; Stan had learned that from the Shack. (Hell, you couldn’t even get the a gnome to play nice for a day, even for a whole jar of jam. The crazy little buggers couldn’t keep it together for more than a few hours without trying to bite the hell outta anybody who got too close to ‘em. And don’t even get him _started_ on that Mothman guy...)

So Stan thought about it for awhile, before he said, "Well, wouldn’t people get suspicious, if it ain’t all that solid? How’re you gonna keep folks from thinking it might be somethin’ other than what it is? And how’re you planning on setting up this safety thing, here? Y’know, _specifically?_ "

Miz tilted her head. "I can set it to be able to put on a Perception Filter to escape and leave the area when it gets surrounded."

Stan sat back and shrugged. "Kid, why do you need it to get close enough to people that that’s even gonna be a problem? Just make it keep its distance and _always_ be non-substantial, all the time. Loch Ness monster does just great drawing tourists in, and it’s camera-shy as anything," Stan told her. "You’ll need a good hook for why the thing’s insubstantial _here_ , though," because Nessie had all that natural fog over by its lake; Glass Shard Beach, not so much. "Like… maybe it’s made outta fog for people who it don’t trust? Something like that? --The keepin’ it insubstantial idea’s good for keepin’ people from getting hurt outright," Stan told her. But he wasn’t so sure about the rest of it, and, "You gotta have a reason for it bein’ like that _now_ that people’ll buy, too. Because everybody and their dog saw how it got hurt stompin’ around on the beach yesterday, and how the twins were able to grab and touch it all over, and clawing at that net instead of fogging right outta it..." Stan said leadingly.

Miz nodded at that, accepting Stan’s input. "Okay. So there wouldn’t even be any issues with people getting hurt. Fog would make sense. Or sea foam." She looked over at the ocean, calculating how that would work. "Like, maybe it only takes physical form when hungry, hence why it came up on land. Since there’s less food in the oceans?"

"That’s a good start," Stan told her, the master storyteller of the Mystery Shack sitting back, relaxing, and having a little fun at _him_ getting to be the one poking at holes in stories for once, instead of some of his more smart-alecky of customers being the ones to try and poke holes in _his_. "But why would it come up onto the beach _this_ time, when it usually eats stuff outta the oceans?" Stan asked of her next.

\---

Over with the younger twins, Lee was counting out how much money they’d made from having Sixer lead people closer to the sedated dragon to take a photo of it. The animal control guys had _finally_ showed up that afternoon, but they’d all been actually pretty honest about how they all weren’t so sure how to handle a creature as large as DragonMiz. (New Jersey wasn’t exactly known for its beached whale problems, and whales tended to not have lots and lots of rows of sharp and pointy teeth _or_ a slew of wicked-looking claws.) The dragon had protested being touched by anyone who wasn’t one of the twins, so they had been at a loss as to how they were going to safely move it.

"Well, its leg was only cut up a little from the glass," Sixer had pointed out. "I’ve looked at it’s paw, the cut isn't deep. It should be healed up within a few days if it doesn’t try to move and hurt itself."

The animal control guys had understood his point, "But we can’t leave it here in the middle of the beach," one of them had said.

Sixer had nodded. "I can try and lure it slowly to an out of the way part of the beach with some food," he’d told them. "I actually don’t think it’s dangerous. It seems more curious about humans than anything else." He’d scratched the dragon’s head to prove his point, and the animal control guys had all watched the beast, as it rumbled and nuzzled its large head against Sixer’s hand.

And that was how animal control had ended up leaving it alone, and how Sixer and Lee had managed to move the dragon down the beach, set up a small area for people to come and 'See the seadragon’ (pun courtesy of Lee), and begin running their own little beach attraction for money -- instead of the impromptu thing that Stan had done out on the beach the previous day, which had only been a ‘take pictures of’, **not** ‘take pictures of _or with_ ’, kind of thing. (Though they charged more for taking their pictures with their camera for them, getting them actually in the frame, as they kept the dragon calm enough to be cool with it.) They were doing pretty well, too.

After Miz and Stan got finished talking, Miz had decided to put herself on ‘food duty’, going off to bring back 'food' for the dragon from time to time (all illusions, of course).

Lee grinned a little and hammed it up, when even some kids from school ended up coming by to gawk at it.

Miz was quietly preening (from where she was sitting on the beach by Stan) at the awed looks her dragon construct was getting. Yes! Be amazed! Look at how impressive it was! (And, unlike Bill, _she_ actually noticed when Stan saw her getting all excited and excitable, and started patting her on top of her head. ...And she purred a bit, quietly, as she slowly began to calm down, under Stan’s not-quite-petting head-patting.) She resisted the urge to just nuzzle against Stan, he wasn't her brother, it would be weird.

The younger twins were enjoying their moment in the spotlight, as it were. Their fellow classmates were so amazed by it. Miz was quietly scanning everyone to see what they thought, how impressed they were of the twins…

...Carla was there, and she was _pissed_...

Well... Miz wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting...

Miz had been having trouble figuring out how to drop the fact that Carla was the one who broken Sixer’s project. She was torn between telling or not telling people. Stan hadn’t wanted that knowledge spread. Ford clearly wanted to know but hadn’t really had the time to investigate himself. Lee was all for just forgetting about it and working to try and support his brother. Sixer… wanted to know but... he was still of the opinion that it was ‘better this way’ and that sort of mentality made Miz a little worried. She’d already told him not to abandon his brother, but she wasn’t sure he was going to listen.

Well, even if Sixer DID go off to college on his own, leaving Lee behind without a single glance, at least Lee would have the boat. And wasn’t going to be out on the streets, starving and getting mixed up in the crime underbelly out of desperation. This was something that Miz and Stan both agreed on, not letting Lee turn out homeless for ten years like him _or_ without a high school degree. (Stan had been pretty vocal at dinner, the last time Lee had tried to bring it up, about how people tried to shaft you on pay if you _didn’t_ have your diploma.)

(Lee had been surprised at how vehement the two of them had been about it. Ford himself had ended up a little bemused -- though mostly suspicious -- at the man-eater acting so much like she actually cared. If Ford hadn’t known she was a demon, he felt he might have even made the mistake of believing her...)

Miz got up and made her way over to the twins, in her older teenage form once more, since there were some classmates around.

"Hey Lee. How’s it going?" she asked. He looked up from where he was counting the profits, eyes gleaming at all the sweet, sweet greenbacks that they’d been making hand over fist -- literally.

"Good! Is this what older me does all the time? This is _amazing_ ," Lee told her.

Miz giggled. "Well, he’s sorta retired now, passed the torch down to the next generation as it were…"

"He’s got a kid?!" Lee asked, eyebrows raising. He hadn’t exactly thought about anyone or anything about ‘life after Carla’, yet. (But if the older him had a kid… well, hey, he had to have gotten over her _eventually_ , right?)

Miz paused. "Not in the traditional sense. He didn’t really get the time to really settle down and start a family; the older Ford kinda got into some trouble and was lost in space, so Stan had to spend 30 years fixing a portal to bring his brother back to Earth…" she mumbled. "Though a different Stan in another dimension actually stayed together with his Carla, things went down very differently there and he had a son with her, but that's not the point right now--"

Lee’s eyes widened. "Uh. Right, that..." He remembered that she’d mentioned that before, the thing about fixing a portal. (The another-him staying together with Carla was new, though. Made him feel kinda weird about his own ex...)

Miz was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then thought better of it. There was something she was worried about.

"I don’t know if that’ll happen here, since we’ve changed things already. --The portal, I mean." She frowned. "But more importantly, please take care of Shermie," she told him. "Even after Sixer goes off to college and you’re off on your boat, please make sure you keep in contact with Shermie. Please make sure that Shermie would have a way to contact you, if they were ever in trouble."

Lee blinked, confused about this sudden change in topic. "Uh… well, yeah. Of course I’ll keep in touch with Shermie? But Shermie’s just a toddler…" Lee frowned as him saying that didn’t seem to leave the demon-dragon looking any happier at anything. ...Which meant he must be missing something. "Okay, look. I’m stupid, remember? What are you sayin' here, straight-out."

"You’re not…" Miz started, then stopped, and sighed. "Visit your mom sometime, meet Shermie when they’re older. Make sure that… if something happens in the future, you’ll be able to take care of Shermie. That there’s some place where Shermie can go to find you for help when they need it," Miz told him quietly, making sure that neither of the Fords could hear. "Also, you're not stupid. The older Stan self taught himself to build an interdimensional portal without ever getting a college education. He's not stupid and neither are you."

Okay, Lee was stupid? But he wasn’t _that_ stupid. He didn't try to touch upon his own level of intelligence (or not), and instead went straight for the important stuff that she'd just said. "What’s… what happened? Will happen?" Because they were from the future right? Lee was getting really worried now, because... "Is something gonna happen to--" his ma and pa? _Was_ something gonna happen to his family? His Ma? Why would he need to be able to help Shermie-- Was his pa gonna throw Shermie outta the house at some point, too? Was he gonna have to… take care of Shermie himself? With Sixer? If so, then the demon-dragon had better tell him--!

"Shhh!" Miz shushed him, glancing around to make sure that none of the other Pines were listening. "Look, this is just a precaution. And your family will be fine. Just that…" She sighed. "You know those two kids who were here before? That first day? Those two are Shermie’s grandkids."

Lee’s eyes widened again. --Little baby _Shermie’s_ grandkids? That was… wait. Lee frowned. If those two were Shermie’s GRANDkids… and Shermie was just a baby now… and the older thems were what, 60-something, maybe? _Only_ 60-something, and grand-uncles? Then that meant that...

Lee got quiet as he looked down at Miz. "You mean…" Oh. Oh, man. ...Yeah, their old man would _not_ be happy about _that_...

Miz nodded. "Yeah, teen pregnancy. Needless to say, your father wasn’t happy." (Lee grimaced.) "And well, back in the other dimension, Shermie ran away, went to Stan and he took care of them, made sure Shermie was alright, and that the kid was alright."

Lee nodded slowly. "Right. So… you just… want me to make sure that this time around, I’m still around here someplace for Shermie to go to for help," instead of out sailing on his boat in the back beyonds of who-knew-where, looking for treasure. Miz nodded. "You can still go sailing, but it would be nice to have some location like a house or a base that Shermie could find you at." Lee frowned. "Why can’t my brother know about this?" Lee asked next. Because Sixer was gonna be around this time to help -- or he’d better be, instead of lost in some other-dimensional place, or Lee would sock him one in the jaw for being so stupid as heck! -- but... it was pretty obvious to Lee that Miz didn’t want Sixer to know about any of this stuff, at all.

She sighed. "If you want to tell him, you can, just do it after we leave." She sighed again. "I _really_ don’t want Stan and Ford getting into another argument about it. So, just don’t bring it up until after we’re gone." And she sounded so weary that Lee sighed and nodded.

"Alright, I won’t bring it up with Sixer until after you guys leave." Lee didn’t exactly blame her, either. He’d seen those guys argue at each other a couple times now, and it _hadn’t_ been pretty. He didn’t want to be the one to accidentally start something _else_ up between them. (that would be _really_ messed up.)

Miz gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks," she told him. With that said, she turned away from him and began making her way back to the boat, grinning as she went. --Ok, there was one worry addressed. It would be sad if the twins weren’t born in this world… like they hadn’t been born in that other dimension…

She clambered up onto the deck, and glanced over at the older Ford. Yet another difference between Stan and Ford’s dimensions that, hopefully, they wouldn’t notice. Not until they got back, so that brother could bring Stan’s brother back to life and… hopefully Stan wouldn’t be too mad.

...and Ford wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He’d realize that this Stan wasn’t his brother, that he wasn’t _home_ , that he was still in the wrong dimension, and then...

Miz thought about that. Was it… _mean_ to not allow that Stanford to try and go home to his own dimension? Because Bill needed him here -- well, _there_ , with the rest of them -- because he was part of Bill’s Zodiac. But was that… _mean?_ She shook her head. She shouldn’t care so much about what that _jerk_ wanted… but why did she still feel so bad for him?

Miz sighed. Whatever, this wasn’t her business; it was between Bill, that Stanford and Stan. They could deal with it all themselves.

...besides, the last time she'd tried to butt in on their business, she'd just made everything worse.

_~~Like she always did when she got in an argument between adults…~~ _

Miz shook her head. Right, that wasn't important.

She walked over to Stan (who was also back on top of the boat again, not sitting on the beach, or she would’ve gone over _there_ ) and sat down next to him. After a bit of companionable silence (underscored by the sound of low-grade grumbling from Bill, who was sitting at the opposite end of the deck from Ford, now, with Stanley sitting about halfway in-between them in a nice folding beach chair, soda in-hand), Miz spoke up. "The government agents will be here tonight."

Stan nodded. "Was expectin’ them earlier." It was fine; they’d planned for this. Friday or Saturday night, it made no difference (...well, except the amount of money the younger twins got to fleece off of the locals). Miz knew what to do for her part.

Stan finished off the last of his soda, then stood up with a groan. He folded up the chair, carried it over to stow it away again, and tossed the can while he was at it, and…

...he took his sweet and leisurely time getting himself down the ladder, to let the kids know what was what, and that it was time to get rid of the makeshift booth, and finish setting things up.

And hey, if these government guys were as stupid as the ones who'd arrested him back in Oregon? This was going to be annoying.

\---

"...well… THAT happened," Stan deadpanned as they all watched the dragon escape into the ocean. The government agents were shouting in disbelief and frustration.

And the man (supposedly in charge) standing next to Stan groaned out, "How did--?"

Stan shrugged. "Eh, I guess its paw was healed."

The agents had come, just as Miz had said they would. They’d demanded for the twins to hand over the dangerous creature so they could bring it back to the labs for testing. Sixer and Lee had played their parts well, protesting rather loudly, "No! You’re just going to cut it open!"

Some of the tourists and locals had also protested. They’d grown a little attached to the creature over the last day and a half, what with the creature acting quite docile once they’d started contributing their own food to feed it. (All the real food had been teleported away by Miz into a subspace she’d built into her OWN hat, copying her brother, to snack on later.)

DragonMiz had still been somewhat skittish before then, but had calmed down after people continued to be non-hostile towards her and feed her all that yummy food -- like those hotdogs! Sixer and Lee had always been nearby to give her some scratches and soothing words.

And, the end result of all of this? --The dragon had captured the hearts of the people. And those same people had then become _very_ upset that the government had been going to take her away.

So some people had blocked the agents’ path, and others had urged for the twins to get the dragon to safety. There had been some struggle back-and-forth, the agents being afraid to open fire when there had been so many civilians nearby on what was a very crowded beach, besides. The police in the area hadn’t wanted any violence to break out either. The commotion had startled the dragon, who had thrashed around on the beach a bit more, and was eventually herded towards the ocean by the twins, where it dove into the water and had finally swam away.

...to the consternation of all the agents that had come to take it away, up to and including the one standing there groaning at Stan’s side right now.

Stan hid a smile. Well hey, it looked like they’d done it. (Not that Stan had worried all that much about the three of them being able to pull it all off.) Hell, the onlookers were even cheering. (Heh. Crowd participation was always kinda fun, when you were able to really pull it off right.)

Stan stood there and watched, as the agents cursed and ran off back to their cars, grabbing their communication devices to begin barking orders to stuff like some helicopter pilots, and the coast guard. Stan left them to it -- not like they were gonna find it again -- and turned away to make his way back to the kids.

"Well, looks like the dragon escaped," he said to them with a Mr. Mystery smile.

"Looks like it has. Well, maybe this is for the best," Lee said with a shrug, as he patted his brother ‘consolingly’ on the back. "Hopefully it’s goin’ back to wherever it came from."

"I suppose so…" Sixer said himself, rather dourly. It wasn't even all that faked. He wanted to study that solid light projection more, how did that even work? Light? As a solid? Sadly it became insubstantial if any damage occurred that Miz didn't approve of and he never got a chance to really inspect it.

After making a show of gazing out at the ocean for a while, they all walked back to the boat. Once they were within the bubble of the perception filter, Lee bent over his knees and started laughing. "Holy shit! That actually worked?!"

"Yup." Stan grinned. "So how's it feel? Your first con?"

Miz was wiggling cheerfully. "Did I do good?" she asked. Bill patted her on the head with a smile.

"Yes. You did great," he praised her, and Miz looked very pleased with herself.

Ford was pinching the bridge of his nose. "This was a risky plan. Lying to the government," _and_ getting one of the demons involved, but no-one had listened to his concerns on _that_ front before, so why repeat them now when he _knew_ they’d be completely ignored.

"Like you did when we mind-zapped those agents that one time?" Stan raised an eyebrow. Ford had even used Mabel's drawings as his 'important documents' for that little act.

Ford twitched and gave his brother a sour look. "This and that are different," he defended himself. "I was trying to protect us! After _whatever_ you did to bring them down upon our heads," Ford grumbled.

"Yeah, whatever," Stan shrugged, ignoring the mild jab. "We didn't get caught _this_ time, no-one was hurt, and hey, a bunch of people paid out the nose for some really unique pictures, and a story to tell. It’s all good."

"And we're rich!" Lee grinned.

Sixer rolled his eyes. "Several hundred dollars isn't going to last us through the rest of the months left until graduation."

Lee scoffed. "It's still more money than I've ever held at one time." Yeah, he technically had more than this in his bank account for the boat, but _held in his hands all at the same time?_ He’d never earned so much, so quickly, and actually gotten to _hold_ all that cash!

"Actually, with the other profits from the newspaper interviews you and your brother did, you've got over a thousand dollars altogether," Stan told them, having kept track of all the transactions. "Still ain't THAT much, but it'll last you if you're careful with your spending." Stan turned to nod at Miz. "The coupons should help with keepin’ the costs down on food. The boat's pretty self-sufficient now. The rest of the school year is paid for, in terms of school lunches," which Stan had gone and paid off while he’d been in the office Friday morning and had the cash-money on him, "So all you need to do now is remember to eat and sleep, attend your classes, and _do your **damn** homework_," he said, giving Lee a pointed grumpy old-man **stare** , "And then turn it all in on time, take your final exams, and graduate."

Lee saw Stan glancing at him while he said that. Right, yeah. Lee still wanted to work, but after Miz had told him about how the older him had been kicked out and never graduated, and the older him had told him about the really-low-pay thing... Well, Lee kinda understood why the older him wanted him to graduate so much. Wanted him to do the thing that he'd never been able to do. And… fine. Lee would attend school. If they really had the money to stay afloat, then...

"I want to be sure that we have enough, though," Lee told the older him.

"Write up a budget, just like we did with the boat," the older him told him. "I’ll look it over; give ya some pointers." (Upon hearing that, Lee relaxed a good bit.)

"I'm hungry," Miz declared. "There's a food challenge with a cash prize happening at that pub down on Main Street." She looked at Stan. "Can I go?"

Stan nodded at her. "Yeah. Go get some food, kid. --Bill, you wanna go with her?" The kid nodded, and they both set off together. (Stan saw the look Ford sent after them, and Stan grimaced and waved him off, too. ...Not like he could stop Ford if he tried, even if his brother looked about as happy at following the demons around as Stan was at the idea of them maybe ganging up on him, again. ...Eh, what the hell. Give him a minute, and he’d follow after them, too. Grab a few extra things to make the hold a little more homey, after that.)

After Miz and her brother walked off, Ford in a slow striding pursuit, Lee sighed and turned to the older him. "Miz is trying to earn more money for us, isn't she?" The older him nodded.

"She'll probably try and hand you the cash, sayin’ that she doesn’t need it or nothin’ herself," a lot like the demon-lady had done with all those coupons. A kinda roundabout way of helping, that maybe wouldn’t set off that karma thing of hers.

...Since it wasn't money she was getting because she wanted it, just earning because she was eating a lot -- which was what she was _really_ wanting to do, eat herself full -- then she could just decide that the money and coupons she received for doing that were kind of a side thing, not important -- if Stan was understanding that karma problem thing right. He’d talked with her a little bit more about it today, off and on when they’d been sitting together on the beach, and…

If he understood it right, because she wasn’t claiming those coupons as the _point_ of her eating a lot and winning the challenge, and because what she wanted out of those food challenges herself was to eat a huge amount and that was it, then she could give the stuff she won from doing that away to somebody else with no problem. ...Yeah, Stan felt like he had a better handle on this stuff and how it worked now.

Miz wanted to help. But because of that karma junk, she couldn't help. Not directly; not without her karma-whatever stuff making her itch and feel bad. So she’d had to do it in a roundabout way, with the coupons and the washer and dryer, and all the rest of it. Stan worried a little bit about this junk, because it sounded like a serious problem -- a hell of a lot worse than she seemed to be thinking it was -- but Miz seemed to be handling it all well enough, for now.

Stan remembered what the kid had talked about, though. If this ‘good’ and ‘bad’ stuff was impacted by other people, and stuff could change over time, and somebody could only fool this system-thing for so long...

...Well, he could probably just leave it up to the kid. The demon-kid didn’t like the idea of stuff maybe boomeranging back on his little sister any more than Stan did. ~~Though Stan was more worried about the possible blowback on everyone-else around her, like his family, than her. She would ‘come back to life’ after exploding, all on her own, but his own family sure wouldn’t…~~

"You’ll need to think about whether or not to take it from her, though," Stan told him. "Cash is a kinda different thing." Coupons came with strings attached, because they had to use them that way. "Cash isn’t coupons; you can use it for anything." And taking handouts was a little… "You better make sure you know whether it’s an actual ‘gift’ with no strings attached, or some kinda loan," he warned the younger him. "You might need to even stuff out with her still, at least a little." That’’d be safer for everybody involved, if he understood this thing right; transactions worked differently, if you were really doing it tit for tat.

Lee rubbed his arm at the mention of a ‘gift’, then winced at the talk of a ‘loan’. "I don’t actually gotta pay her back, right--?" Then he paused and thought about what Miz had asked of him. _Take care of Shermie._ "--Wait, nevermind, I think I know what I need to do for this stuff to work out even." And, yeah. It wasn’t like it was something he wouldn’t have done anyway, if Shermie was in trouble.

Stan raised an eyebrow at him but Lee waved him off. "It’s nothing. I got this."

Stan frowned. He wasn’t so sure about ‘nothing’ from a younger himself, but he wasn't gonna dig into it right then. Instead, he sat the twins down and had a quick talk about their finances -- and not just because he wanted to give Lee a better example of how to handle a budget.

That was when Stan revealed to them exactly how much money he’d been making along the boardwalk this whole time.

"What? You’re joshing me--" But then Lee gasped when Stan flipped the lid off of the crate that they were using as a table, right in front of him, and they saw…

And then the older him pulled out a wad of cash from a pocket… and another wad of cash from another pocket, and _another_... and Lee saw with his own two eyes the sheer amount that his older self _had_ actually managed to earn within the past few days, that his older self was only now adding _that single day’s take_ to the full crate and pile of.

"We… we can’t take this!" Lee stammered, even though he really, _really_ wanted to...

Stan snorted. "Well I ain’t got no need for any of it," Stan told them truthfully. "S’not like I can use this cash back in my dimension," he said, lying just as easily to the two of them in the very next breath. He sat back and folded his arms. "We’re not staying here forever. We’re gonna leave and go home, and then all this cash would be nothing more than dirty slips of paper. Can’t use this stuff back home, anyway," Stan lied again, easily.

"But this is--" Lee didn’t feel right just accepting all this cash. "How can I pay you back for--"

"Stay in school. Graduate. Work in the meantime if you really gotta," Stan directed specifically at Lee. "I know you talked to them already about me makin’ you miss work for the next week or so," Stan told him, though _he’d_ gone around and talked to each of his bosses personally _first_ , making sure that they knew what was up. Word got around town quick, and Lee _had_ gone to talk to them all in person himself, bein’ responsible about things, but Stan had still wanted to make sure that they _were_ gonna be okay with Lee missing a few nights that week, and that weekend, as he settled into his new routine -- and _weren’t_ going to give him any guff, trying to get him to work any longer shifts or hours until after graduation was over and the summertime really hit. Hadn’t told Lee about it at all; he hadn’t wanted the argument, or the push back on it.

"I can’t stop you from working the jobs you’ve already got," Stann told him. "But you make sure you get your homework done, and _don’t_ go skipping school anymore until the end of the year. After that? I don’t care. You’ll be eighteen in June; you can do what you want then, and nobody’ll be able to say boo about it," Stan told them plainly. Sixer looked down at the crate filled with cash, neatly sorted into stacks of the same domination and held together with a rubber band. "Look you two, I’m going to have to trust that you’ll be alright." Stan told them. "I ain’t your boss, I ain’t your parents, there’s technically nothing stopping you from droppin’ out of school. But you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have to go through what I did."

Lee winced. He didn’t know exactly what the other him might have gone through, but from what he was picking up, it hadn’t been good. After all, Lee had heard that stress made someone age faster, and well… the old-man him looked at least ten years older than the older Sixer. (Or at least, he seemed more…)

"Alright," Lee said, letting out a breath. "I’ll stay in school. I’ll graduate. And… then what?" Lee asked, looking up at him.

Stan shrugged. "Heck you askin’ me for? --Like I said, it ain’t my problem after you graduate. You’ll be an adult." They’d be turning eighteen just as their last final exams were finishing up, and classes were gonna be over, forever. "So, you’re gonna be makin’ your own decisions, then. No lookin’ to anyone else; it’s all on you."

Lee pulled in a breath as he thought about it. "Yeah, okay. That’s fine." He glanced down at the stacks of bills again. "So... I just gotta graduate?"

"Yeah. That money there is for keeping you and your brother in the clear up until graduation. If you still have any left over once you’ve graduated, eh, keep it for whatever else you feel like," Stan told them. "That’s where the budgeting comes in."

Lee was deep in thought. "Like a deposit for a house…"

"Whatever you want. I won’t be here to say nothin’ about it. Just remember that a house is a lotta work, more than you might expect, and it’ll keep you tied down, whether you want it to or not. It’s a bigger investment than the boat," Stan told him. "Won’t be able to buy one and sign all the paperwork until you’re eighteen either, if that’s what you want." Stan shrugged.

After a bit more deliberation. Lee nodded. "Fine. So, this is just bribe money to get me and Sixer to stay in school." He laughed. "I’m good with that."

And that would be that. Lee was going to stay in school, graduate like the other him wanted, and then… and then he would go sailing with his brother, like they’d been planning to since forever. Shermie couldn’t get into any teen pregnancy trouble until… y’know… teenager-hood was a thing. So that was maybe gonna only happen at least eleven or twelve years from now. He’d have time to buy a house and plan, to be able to take care of Shermie okay, if he ended up not being there to stop it, in case the thing did actually happen. (...Was stopping it the right thing to do? That would be taking care of Shermie, too, right?) --But that was a long ways off. He and Sixer could go sailing in the meantime, doing the treasure hunting thing!

He’d need to sit down and talk to Sixer about where they’d go first, though; it was _their_ boat, and _their_ home right now. He realized that he hadn’t actually talked about this stuff with his twin in _weeks_ , with how focused Sixer had been on his science fair project. As long as he kept in touch with their ma, he could still keep in touch with Shermie, too, no matter where they were, or what they did. ...Well, once Shermie was old enough to be able to communicate.

And… staying in school would pay off the old-man him for his help. Taking care of Shermie in the future would pay off Miz for her help. Lee felt the uncomfortableness inside him at taking all of this money he was just being handled for nothing, settle and slowly dissipate. Because it wasn’t actually for nothing; he was gonna be doin’ stuff, family stuff, to earn this. (For one thing, getting his diploma sounded like he could make more money to take care of him and his brother, if the treasure hunting thing ended up not working out.) It made him feel better to have a way to pay them back, to not be in debt to them, for all that they’d done for him and his brother. To feel like he was useful in some way. So, yeah. He could do this.

"...Just, y’know, remember that if you want to go treasure hunting anytime soon, that gold is some kinda… _rare_ metal," the old-man him cautioned him, and Lee nodded.

Lee would keep this all in mind. And once the older thems had left, he’d tell Sixer about the Shermie thing too. Shermie was their sibling, they _would_ be ready to care of Shermie in the future. And if Sixer tried to make a stink about it for some unknown, dumb reason, then... well, tough. Miz was counting on Lee to do this. She seemed legitimately worried about Shermie ending up in trouble, and maybe not having anybody to go to for help, like the older thems had done for him and his brother. And Lee would do it, and not _just_ to pay Miz back for her help. Shermie was family. Shermie was going to be counting on him to do this, too.

And if it really ended up being some huge problem with Sixer somehow, that it just wouldn’t work out for whatever reason? (Like, baby screaming keeping him awake when he was working on something science-y that was gonna make them both millions, like he’d been muttering about to himself lately?) Well… then Lee could figure out a way to take care of Shermie himself, for the both of them.

After all, Shermie was his little sister. Lee wasn’t going to let her down.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: So... yeah. The reason why Stan's so chill with Bill being a guy, despite changing to be physically female, is because Shermie's a trans. Shermie is Mabel and Dipper's grandfather, and don't you dare think otherwise!
> 
> Yet another difference between this dimension from that Stanford's true home. Miz couldn't have Ford know, so she asked for Lee to not talk about it until after they leave :p
> 
> She's very sneaky when she wants to be.
> 
> Also, sorry for taking so long, I had D&D today and Jo was busy too.
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  I really blame [Sarielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarielle/pseuds/Sarielle)'s [Shermaine Pines AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/326573) for the male vs. female (+trans!)Shermie bit ;) I never would've thought of this (or any of the other associated upcoming madness that is the "fallout" of this, hint hint) without reading it. --Very good series; highly recommend!


	21. Chapter 89: LOVE is your sick raw biological urge to reproduce trying to dress up in a suit and charm its way through the opera!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Stan is not what he seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 102 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/46680229). It was first posted on Jul 8, 2019.

\---

School on Monday was filled with excited whispers. Lee felt himself grinning instead of shying away this time at the things being said. _"They caught a sea serpent! I saw it!" "So COOL!" "Do you think those alien girls had something to do with it?" "Naw, they stayed back the whole time, probably didn’t want to get caught by those government agents who came to try and grab the monster."_

Lee was quite happy to be soaking in all this admiration. His jubilant mood was broken when he spotted Carla, though. She… looked _pissed_. Lee was a little taken aback. Why was she so angry? Then Lee noticed that while she was looking in his direction, it wasn’t _him_ she was glaring at.

He followed her gaze and found her glaring at… Sixer?

Then Carla noticed him watching her and turned away in a huff, striding quickly down the hall. Lee froze in place. Carla really _was_ angry. And… with the things Lee had been thinking about, what with the way his brother saw Carla, how his brother talked about her… Lee was starting to think that maybe… maybe his brother _had_ done something, said something to her sometime that he didn’t know about, that was close enough to what he’d said to _him_ yesterday that… maybe Carla had heard. Something that would get her this angry.

It worried Lee a lot. And made him question why Carla had actually broken up with him. She’d said it was because he was stupid, and that was true, but… if his brother had said something to her, told her he thought _she_ was stupid… could that have started something?

...No. No, that didn’t make any sense. Why would Carla take something out on _him_ that _Sixer_ had done? She wasn’t like some of the other girls; she said stuff straight-out to people usually, even if it might really take her awhile to work herself up to saying whatever sometimes. And she didn’t blame other people for other stuff; if she got mad at you, it was because _you_ did something. She’d broken up with him because he’d been too stupid for her, and a bunch of other things that had made him a bad boyfriend; so she was mad at Sixer, because… Sixer had done something to make her mad.

Sixer said he hadn’t, though. So… there was something he was missing. ...Maybe Sixer _had_ said something really bad to her, but he just didn’t _think_ he had? Lee couldn’t imagine his brother lying to him about anything, and Sixer _was_ pretty bad at girls. And… uh. People, in general. (Lee was pretty sure that half the reason Sixer got along with the teachers was because there were pretty straightforward, consistent ways they were and weren’t supposed to act. So Sixer knew exactly what to do and not do without thinking too much about it, and he didn’t have to really change the script up between teachers.)

"Uh, Sixer," Lee asked his brother, nudging him in the shoulder with his shoulder. ‘Are you _sure_ you didn’t do something to make Carla mad at you?"

Sixer let out a huff of breath, as he slammed his locker shut. " _I_ didn’t do _anything_ to her. _She_ made a stupid assumption -- multiple times -- and then acted upon it. It has nothing to do with me." (Lee frowned. _That_ sounded like… a conversation that he didn't know about. As far as he'd known, Carla had never talked to Sixer for very long, and never out of earshot.)

And Miz had a very grumpy look on her face as she stared at Sixer. "But you didn’t have to be so mean about it to her." Though, Miz needed to really ask Carla for her side of the story to see how she saw it. Miz was still having trouble really understanding it otherwise. Ah… damn teenage drama.

Sixer turned towards her and gave her a flat look.

"If you knew half of what she _thought_ she was doing, you wouldn’t be saying that," Sixer said. He then turned back to Lee. "Believe me, it’s better that you’re no longer dating her. _Crampelter_ is more intelligent that she is."

("That’s just _rude_ now," Miz muttered.)

Lee’s jaw dropped. Then he clenched it closed again. "...So you _did_ say somethin’ bad to her," Lee said slowly.

"I made it clear what I thought, of what she told me, when she accosted and then _cornered_ me," Sixer told him, adjusting his glasses. "Should I have ignored what she had to say?" he questioned Lee.

Lee frowned. "What did she say to--"

Lee stopped when a hand came down on his shoulder. He turned towards the hand, and came face-to-face with--

\--Bill, who was on the other end of said hand, smiled thinly at him.

"It’s not important," said Bill. "STOP talking about exes, stupid or otherwise. You _DON’T_ want to do that." And Lee felt the hand on his shoulder tighten slightly, and very very firmly, as he stared the demon straight in the eyes.

Lee swallowed, hard.

"...fine…" Lee muttered, backing down for now. Even if he really wanted to know what had happened between Carla and his brother… he wasn’t _stupid_ , he wasn’t going to keep talking about it in front of the demon. Not if it would get him mangled by Bill.

"GOOD," said Bill, letting go of his shoulder. "--It’s a waste of time. It won’t help you. You won’t be getting back together with her, ever. Not even if you were the last two living humans on earth!" Bill said, grinning brightly.

"That’s a very mean way to put it." Miz pouted at her brother, somewhat annoyed. She wanted things to work out between them.

"Is it?" said Bill. "And here I thought it was a good thing! --You can do better," he told Lee, slapping him on the back a _lot_ more softly than Lee was expecting (which kinda startled him, actually -- it felt more like a pat). "And so can she!"

Miz sighed before patting Lee on the back gently. "Well, just focus on being happy and living your best life. Although I’m still a little sad it didn’t work out between you two…" Seb’s Stan and Carla ended up together after all. Then again, they were very different people.

Speaking of Carla, Miz wasn’t quite sure what to do about her anymore. While she'd originally wanted to get Carla in trouble for breaking the project (possibly getting expelled or something), seeing how angry she was at how well Sixer and Lee were doing was just as satisfying. After all, wasn't the best revenge just living the best life and fuck the haters? (Not literally fuck them of course.) Not to mention that if Sixer had been such a jerk towards her, in such a pompous and derogatory way, even if he didn’t realize it, Miz could see where Carla was coming from with her revenge plan. Heck, the only sticking point here was that Carla had hurt Lee as part of her revenge plan by breaking up with him in such an awful way. And that was what really made Miz unhappy. Lee was a good kid. He didn't deserve that.

...so… revenge on Carla was finished then? Maybe. Miz decided that perhaps it wasn't all that important anymore. Besides, her anger at what Carla had done had long since burned out. She really couldn't stay mad for long. Heck, she was holding Sixer's hand as they walked through the hallways.

...did she forgive too easily? Perhaps.

But Miz didn't mind. Being angry didn't feel nice. It made her chest ache to hold onto anger. She didn't know how Bill managed it. And the twins were doing fine even despite being disowned so… eh? Sure Sixer missed his chance to go to some fancy school but frankly, did he even really need it? (And it's not like his project was a _real_ perpetual motion machine anyway.)

He still got an education and like seven Ph.D.’s or something, right? Or was it twelve? And he got to meet Fiddleford. Though Miz was starting to get the idea that Sixer wouldn't actually count either of those as a plus point. He was… kind of a self centered dick. With a superiority complex.

AND an inferiority complex. Not the best combination.

But...

Miz squeezed Sixer’s hand. He wasn’t beyond help. Not yet. He was still young, he could still change. She had to believe that. She _had_ to believe there was still a chance for him to grow up to be a better person...

"Hey Sixer?" Miz asked. "Why do you think Carla’s stupid?"

Sixer looked over at her. "Because she can’t even tell the difference between me and Lee," he scoffed. (--And that immediately had Lee looking over at him, shocked. " _\--What??_ ")

Miz twitched (while Bill kept a careful ear on Sixer). " **I** have trouble telling people apart. I have to cheat with my powers to know who’s who. Does that make _me_ stupid?" Miz asked. (Lee was still looking a little stunned, not quite past what his brother had just said to Miz about Carla, while...)

Sixer looked a little taken aback. "But you’re not human; that hardly counts," he pointed out. (Because as far as he was concerned, if she had different senses that she relied upon, then telling her not to use them would be like telling someone who was human to close their eyes and then tell two people apart -- _of course_ there was going to be an issue!)

Miz whined. "And if I was? If I was human, and I couldn’t tell other humans apart, does that make me stupid?"

"Well, yes," Sixer said plainly, adjusting his glasses. He’d rather thought that was obvious.

Miz huffed and let go of Sixer’s hand. "Well I guess that makes me stupid. Not worth your time." (Bill eyed them both, but remained silent for the moment.) Miz pulled on Lee’s hand and walked away, saying, "Come on, let's get to homeroom," and Sixer blinked after her as she walked off.

"What did I do _this_ time?" Sixer asked.

"You have a high INT but staggeringly low WIS," Miz huffed out at him as she stomped away. (Bill let out a 'HA' laugh with a wide and hard grin, then a "--YES!") Lee gave his brother a helpless look as he was dragged down the hallway along with her.

And Sixer froze in place as he processed that statement. Then he hurried to catch up to them. "--Was that a D, D and more D reference???" he asked her, as he came up next to her side, walking along with them quickly.

"What's it matter? I'm clearly too stupid for--" Miz snipped before Lee sighed and, having picked up on this over the last few days of knowing her, placed his free hand on Miz's head and gently patted her. She calmed but still muttered, "Prosopagnosia is a _thing_ that people can have. It’s not their fault! It’s not _my_ fault…"

Yeah, Lee didn’t want to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. And hey, that wasn’t really the problem here, anyway, right? "--Look, I don't think my brother meant to call you stupid," Lee started to say (as he removed his hand from her head, because he really didn’t like the way Bill was watching him, ever since he’d started doing that...), but Miz huffed and said herself, "He clearly did."

Sixer looked between them. "Wait-- you--" But Miz ‘hmph’ed and turned away from him.

"Might want to _quit while you still have a HEAD_ , 'Ford," Bill told him, with an amused (but hard, and almost _expectant_ ) gleam in his eye.

And Lee stared at the demon and went chillingly cold, because _that_ demon was **angry** and just _waiting_ to show it (--like maybe how he’d ‘showed it’ to Crampelter? or _worse?!_ ), _**oh shit--**_

"--Sixer, _just drop it_ , okay?" Lee barely managed to not stammer out. "Just _stop talking_ , right now."

"'Stop talking'?" the demon said next, oh so casually. "Oh, but _**I**_ think he should _start talking_ instead. After all," the demon added next, "How is he supposed to _APOLOGIZE TO MY SISTER_ , if your twin brother can't talk?" Bill gave him a dead man's stare. "He IS sorry that he said that INCORRECTLY, _**ISN'T HE**_ ," the demon said flatly. It wasn't a question.

"--He is definitely very sorry," Lee said quickly to the demon's demand. "Sixer, _say you're sorry_."

Sixer looked over at his brother and said plainly, "For what?"

Oh, god. His brother was going to die.

"Just, uh, just give me a sec--" Lee stammered out at the older demon, snatching his arm away from Miz, as he grabbed his brother to literally drag him off and away from the demons, to talk. (Read: _save his twin’s can’t-talk-to-girls-to-save-his- **life** life_.)

Miz sniffled. That made Bill look even more… _something_ that Lee didn’t have words for, but was really damn terrified of. He dragged Sixer away even faster.

"You are **NOT** stupid," Lee heard Bill tell his little sister, as he dragged his brother off down the hallway. "Don't EVER let ANYONE try and tell you otherwise."

"But I _am_ stupid. Stupid for thinking that any version of Ford could _possibly_ be nice…" was Miz’s miserable reply.

"NO, you are--" But then, Lee saw Bill hesitate for a moment (just before Lee dragged Sixer with him into the boy's bathroom).

"...Define: 'nice'," was the last thing he heard from down the hallway, as the door swung shut behind them.

\---

Lee relaxed slightly once there was some distance, a wall, and an actual _door_ that he could (and did then) lock, between his brother and the demon that could toss Crampelter around like a ragdoll. "Dammit Sixer, do you _want_ to be torn apart?"

"No. That would be a very unpleasant experience," Sixer said simply.

Lee groaned. "Do you even know what you just did wrong?" Sixer blinked. Lee resisted the urge to punch his brother in the shoulder as hard as he could, for being a complete _moron_. "You hurt Miz’s feelings!" he hissed.

Sixer raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"You _don’t_ go hurtin’ a girl’s feelings, Sixer," his brother told him. " _Especially_ not when the girl’s got a _very_ protective, _really_ dangerous brother around, who’s just _waiting_ for an excuse to kill you for it now!" Lee told him. "You know, the guy who kicked Crampelter’s ass last week _for fun_ , and that was when he _wasn’t_ all angry like he is now?!"

His brother frowned. "But what did I do? She was asking about a hypothetical situation?"

Hypothetical situation? (The heck?) "--That's not the point," Lee told his twin, then rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. " _Look_ , even if whatever it was was ‘hypothetical’ somehow, you still made the dragon-demon lady upset because she thinks you said she was stupid. You don't--" Lee rubbed his face again, then dropped his hands to his side, trying not to clench them. "Don't just go off insulting someone like that. And if they think you insulted them, don’t _argue_ with them about it, just say ‘I’m sorry!’ --That's just _common sense!_ " Lee hissed out at him, then finally said something that he’d been holding back for awhile: "This is why people don't like you!"

Sixer opened his mouth to protest but Lee continued on, frustration bleeding through.

"--It _ain’t_ ‘your hands’, Sixer," Lee told him roughly, tired of his twin always blaming that on everything. "It’s because you keep pulling shit like _this_ , lately!" Even Crampelter didn’t pick on Sixer for his hands anymore when he did it, not really; he did it because Sixer was a nerd now, not a freak. Getting picked on for being a nerd was _normal_. It wasn’t like anybody was throwing _rocks_ at them anymore. "--Everybody _else_ has grown up, yeah? So why can’t _you?_ " Just callling people stupid was… Miz wasn’t stupid, and neither was Carla! --Yeah, you heard him, he thought it! He might not be dating her anymore, but _still!_

"I _am_ \--" Sixer cut himself off, looking annoyed. "Well, you’re one to talk," he seemed to settle on instead. ...Yeah, Sixer. _Great_ comeback, there.

"Look, just apologize to her. Okay? --Tell her that you weren’t tryin’ to call her stupid, and you’re sorry that you hurt her feelings." Lee sighed. "I don't want you gettin' killed for being an idiot."

"I'm not an--"

"-- _You don't even know what you did wrong!_ " Lee said in frustration and exasperation. "You _didn’t_ know. Right? _I_ had to tell you. --And hey, _you’re_ the one who just said that if you don't know something…" Lee ground out, turning Sixer's own words against him.

"That’s _not_ what I said," Sixer huffed out.

"It’s what she heard," Lee said, and he was starting to think (with a sinking feeling) that it was maybe even what his twin had actually meant. "Doesn't change the fact that you don’t know nothing about PEOPLE!" Lee stressed.

"’Don’t know _anything_.’ Grammar, Stanley," Sixer said, "And I know _enough_ \--"

"No," Lee said, "You really, really don’t. --And you know what? The old-man me is _right_. You _need_ to know about people to get anywhere in life after high school. Because, hey, maybe you really _are_ smarter than everybody else at book-stuff, but you know what? You can’t just go off an’ live off on your own, alone by yourself, _all_ by yourself, and make it alone on your own dependin’ on nobody." It just didn’t work that way.

Sixer scoffed at this. "If I _wanted_ to--"

"--except you _don’t_ want to, because then you’d have to do everything of everything and all of it by yourself," Lee told him. "Unless you want to add ‘growing your own food’ and ‘making the cloth and needles and thread you need so you can go off _sewing your own clothing_ ’ to the list." His brother was quiet. "Sixer, you can go off and be as smart as anybody, but treatin’ people like dirt is just gonna get you nowhere fast. Nobody has to like you, or help you with _anything_ , you know." And Lee frowned as he thought about the fact that his brother really was heading on down that road right now.

(And he made it a point _not_ to say that Sixer wouldn't be able to make any friends or charm any business partners if he didn't learn to talk to people, instead of just dismissing everyone else right off the bat like he always did. And he damn well didn’t say it, because he’d heard what Pa had yelled out at his twin when he’d tossed Sixer outta the house, --He wasn’t gonna do that to his brother. That wasn’t fair. Those college folks should’ve at least _listened_ and let him talk about his science fair project thing, maybe let him _try_ and explain--)

"I don’t treat people like--" Sixer started to say but Lee just stared at him and Sixer trailed off. "What do you want from me?" Sixer sighed.

"Tell Miz what I told you to tell her." Lee crossed his arms. "And I want you to start actually thinking about how other people might feel at some of the stuff you say. Treat other people like they’re _people_ , and not just _objects_ that walk around and exist around you." It shouldn’t be this difficult.

Sixer rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to do differently, _specifically?_ " Sixer asked next.

Lee frowned at him. "You mean right _now?_ " Was his brother actually listening to him, here? Lee let out a breath and looked over his brother. ...Huh.

Yeah, okay. "--Like I said, you need to apologize to Miz before her brother rips you apart for hurting her feelings," Lee told him, leaning back against the wall. "And the fact that you didn’t even realize you hurt her feelings is why you’re an idiot," Lee pointed out, trying to put things in a way that his twin might understand a little easier. "Like how did you not notice that trap? She asks if you think she’s stupid and you say _yes_?! What were you thinking?! You wouldn’t like that if somebody said that to _you_ \--" Lee began.

"--Okay, whatever! I’ll apologize!" Sixer ground out. He didn’t look all too happy with his brother, though. "That doesn’t tell me what _else_ you think I should be doing differently, though. That’s just one single instance that happened just this one time," Sixer complained at him.

Geez. "Sixer, it ain’t hard, I swear. Just think about how you’d feel if you heard somebody tell you whatever you’re thinkin’ about sayin’ to somebody else. It’s not..." Lee frowned as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of a better way to say this stuff that might actually keep his brother thinking about it. "It’s not science-science, it’s people-science."

Sixer narrowed his eyes, and frowned at him. "Sociology is a ' _soft_ science'," Sixer said. "It’s not a _real_ \--"

"--Most people don’t think cryptid stuff is ‘real science’, either, Sixer," Lee told him, crossing his arms.

Lee watched as his brother clenched his jaw and thinned his lips at him. ...Yeah, well. He’d actually asked for it. So, y’know. ‘Course he was gonna tell his twin stuff when he actually asked him.

"But cryptids are real! There are two aliens right there--" Sixer tried to complain but Lee rolled his eyes.

Yeah, but most people wouldn't believe it, even with proof and junk. --Hell, Sixer, those two demons haven't really tried all that hard to act human or hide what they are _at all_ , and," Lee waved his arms, "No-one's called the cops or the church on 'em! No-one's called the government to come and take them away! Even the science teach called ‘em a couple of aliens, and he’s an adult! Did you see anybody try and haul ‘em away?"

"...they did for the dragon," was Sixer's petulant reply. Lee rolled his eyes.

"And all they thought it was, was either some kinda new species of animal, or just some super-old mutant monitor lizard -- _not_ an actual dragon." Lee had heard what those agents had been saying into their radios. "Point is, even if something ain't a hard science, don't mean it ain't real. And this people-science thing? It's real. People have feelings, and things you say or do can hurt them, and--"

"--Fine! I'll read a few books on practical sociology," Sixer said, throwing his hands in the air in disgust. "-- _And_ apologize!" Sixer repeated, at the long warning look Lee gave him. "Just because she's apparently sensitive about this!" He didn't sound all that sorry, but… yeah, Lee knew this was the best he was gonna get.

He gave his brother a nod, unlocked the bathroom door, and the two of them went back outside into the hallway. Miz was looking somewhat glum, and she didn't even look at Sixer when the two of them walked back up to them and Sixer said, "I'm sorry for calling you stupid."

"No, you're not. Sorry, that is." Bill pointed out, eyeing him. ('Great…' Lee mentally groaned.)

Miz sighed. "At least he apologized." She turned to Lee and took his hand to pull him to class, pretty much ignoring Sixer. "It's good enough for now. I guess," Miz said, not directly addressing Sixer as she went to homeroom.

Sixer clenched his hands into fists. He was… upset that Miz was still ignoring him. Even though he apologized. --What was the _point_ of _doing_ it, then?!

"WELL." Bill walked towards Sixer, then circled behind him. "Maybe try NOT LYING when saying 'sorry' next time, if you _don't_ want her MAD at you!" Bill informed him, as he finished his circuit, then strode down the hallway after his sister. (Though, Bill was a little frustrated about the fact that her staying mad _wasn't_ actually a given -- Miz had told him that she couldn't stay mad for long, which meant that if Sixer _didn’t_ try harder sooner, _before_ that happened, then…)

Sixer huffed and walked to class. Lying? So what. He said an apology! Why should it matter if he meant it or not? And why was she mad in the first place, anyway? It had been a hypothetical question! She wasn’t _actually_ human!

\---

Later that day, Carla paused at the sight of the person standing next to her as she opened her locker. She raised an eyebrow.

"You're not with your posse?" Carla asked the new girl, as she began pulling out her books and binders for her after lunch classes.

Miz sighed. "I wanted to talk to you."

Carla narrowed her eyes as she kept retrieving textbook after textbook. "I'm very busy. So if you would just--"

"Ford's a jerk." Miz said simply. "He's a twat. I can understand why you did what you did. He's an arrogant little dick and deserves to be taken down a notch, I think getting him disowned by his father and thrown into the street was a little much, but otherwise, I think what you did was a very understandable response to your frustration." Miz said quickly.

Carla blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about." She slammed her locker shut and then moved away from it, books and binders in hand. ...And Miz got in her way. She tried to side step the new girl and continue on her way but Miz moved to continue blocking her path.

"What I DO have a problem with, is the fact that you hurt Stan. Why? He didn't know anything. He never realized that you thought--" Carla stopped trying to get around her and just stood in place, giving her a full-on _‘you’d better shut up about that RIGHT NOW’_ glare. Miz made a frustrated sound. "He loved and respected you. Still does. He didn't know what Ford did, or what you thought, he just thought you were smart and amazing and even now he still…"

Carla frowned as she realized what the girl was likely getting at, given how she’d been trying to hang all over both of those twins for the past week. "What? You're angry that he won't get over me so _you_ can have him? --That's _not_ my problem!" she huffed out at her. Heck, she wished the girl _would_ just take him! Maybe _then_ \--

"I'm not interested in him like that," Miz replied. "But I consider him a friend, even if he doesn't. I don't like seeing him unhappy." Miz sighed. "Even 40 years in the future, when I spoke badly of you, Stan still defended you. So, I just want to know, why did you hurt Stan?"

"Forty _what?_ " Carla twitched. Was this that stupid ‘alien’ thing again that, for some reason, everybody kept _falling_ for--?!

Carla's eyes widened when the teenager in front of her seemed to shimmer and... she was looking at a little girl now, maybe 14 years of age at most. Carla quickly looked around her but the kids in the hallway were going about their business as if they saw nothing.

"They don't notice us," Miz told her plainly, and Carla turned back to her. "They can't hear our conversation either," she added. "I wanted to speak with you alone. So, please? I just want to understand. There have been too many misunderstandings. Please." She bowed forward at the waist.

Carla looked around again and realized that no one else was even so much as giving either of them a second glance.

Carla frowned as she turned back towards the girl. She didn’t know how the new girl had managed to pull this little trick off, but...

She didn't trust any of this at all, though -- not one bit. And she wasn't about to stand out in the middle of the hallway and talk about--

So Carla reached out, took Miz by the upper arm, and pulled her down the hallway and into a doorway corner, glanced through the window in the door, then opened it and dragged her into one of the (yes) currently-unused advanced study rooms. (She knew how gossip worked. This girl already seemed to know enough -- too much. That meant she had to have talked to Stanford, that-- that--!! And if Stanford Pines had told her _that_ , then he'd definitely _also_ said-- Carla shook her head. The girl was just fishing when it came to Stanford; there was no way she could know what she had or hadn’t done. She was probably just talking about how she’d made sure that his project had gotten thrown in the trash; that was all...)

Once the door was closed behind them, Carla finally turned back to the 'alien' girl and told her quietly, well under her breath, "Look, I _know_ Stan didn't know -- that's the _point_ ," she hissed out at Miz angrily, and she looked back at the doorway as she clutched her books and binders to her chest. She looked angry and miserable.

"He didn't know that you thought he was Ford. He never realized it." Miz replied.

"He _should_ have realized it! He--" Carla cut herself off, shook her head from side to side roughly, and she clutched her books to herself a little more tightly. "It's _not_ my fault! He was wearing Stanford's clothes-- the same glasses--!" Carla looked frustrated, almost like she wanted to cry. (Maybe Stan really _hadn’t_ known -- but she’d still _felt_ like she’d been played around with and _used_.)

Miz sighed. "I know. He should have realized what you would have thought, but he didn't. He didn't know. I told the older version of him about it and he was shocked. He never realized that…" Miz shrugged helplessly. This didn’t happen in Seb’s dimension since they were triplets and people were forced to pay more attention to know which one was which.

" _But he **should** have!_" Carla told her again, angrily. "That's the _point!_ "

Miz was confused. "But how is that different from you not knowing--"

"--I don't _care_ about how many stupid fingers he has, okay!" Carla snapped out at her. "That _wasn't_ why I wanted to date him! I-- I shouldn't have had to-- it isn't _stupid_ that I didn't ' _check his hands_ ' first, I--"

And Miz's eyes went wide.

"--You wanted to date _Ford_ ," Miz blurted out, staring at her.

Carla's expression went through several emotions, most of which Miz had trouble with; they all looked pretty complicated. 'Miserable', however, was pretty clear throughout.

Carla lifted a hand to wipe underneath her eyes a bit at a little of the wetness underneath (while feeling a little foolish that she even _had_ the inane thought that, well, at least she was only wearing eyeshadow and no mascara that day, or she'd look like a complete mess…).

"I thought he was _smart_ ," Carla said, sounding angry with herself, and also with Stanford. "I certainly know better _now_ ," she added far more coldly. Because he _clearly_ wasn't smart enough to realize that other people were worth being nice to. To realize that was _important_. That caring about other people was...

Miz frowned. "But, you knew it was Stan at some point. You went on a couple dates with him…" and had even called him by name, which meant that… Carla had still dated Stan even after she’d found out? 

"I thought Stanford _wanted_ me to," Clar said bitterly, clutching her books to her chest even more tightly. "That I needed to date his brother too, for him to..." Carla looked away from Miz for a moment. "It wasn't like I didn't treat Stanley _differently_ than--" Carla bit her lip. She looked angry and terribly frustrated all over again.

(She _hated_ that she’d been tossed back and forth between them ~~\-- that she’d _thought_ that she had been --~~ and that Stanford didn’t even _care_ what that had felt like, what she’d gone through, when she’d finally confronted him about everything, not wanting to do it anymore, to just and solely date _him_ and him _alone_ , and realized…)

(And, even after all that, and everything Stanford had said, when she’d finished ~~staying home from school and crying herself to sleep for three days straight, until she’d gotten angry, instead of just feeling like she wanted to _die_ of shame, and had decided instead that she **wasn’t** going to let some stupid _boy_ keep her from~~ picking herself back up again after _that_ particular ordeal, and she’d tried to give Stanley himself a real, actual, fair chance with her, despite everything? --She’d realized _very_ quickly that one of the reasons Stanley had apparently been so interested in her in the first place had been because he thought she was _smart_. ...But his brother didn’t think that. And Stanley listened to him. And with the way Stanley downtalked himself over and over again, comparing himself to his brother…)

(Carla hadn’t been able to take it. Stanley _wasn’t_ dumb, but the way he talked about himself was absolutely terrible sometimes. And Carla couldn’t help but think helplessly of how Stanley might treat _her_ , with the way he already talked about and treated _himself_ , if Stanford changed his twin brother’s mind (‘woke him up to the fact that...’). If Stanley started thinking that she was _dumb_ , instead, what that might be like... ~~the very idea of it _scared_ her.~~)

(And _when_ Stanford spoke up about everything, eventually, and called her dumb to her face, this time right in front of Stanley -- because Stanford _would_ do that, he’d practically _threatened_ to before, she’d finally realized. With each passing day, and how the way Stanford had been looking at her had just worsened and worsened… it had all been left hanging over her head like a damned Sword of Damocles, one that that six-fingered _bastard_ was holding onto for a rainy day, with his own ‘special’ pair of redesigned scissors.

And Carla _knew_ that Stanley wouldn’t defend her against what his brother said. He wouldn’t call her smart if Stanford called her stupid. He wouldn’t tell Stanford that he was the one who was wrong. ~~\--Because _that_ would imply that Stanley knew something that Stanford did not. And Stanley… she knew him better than that, by this point. She didn't see him _ever_ getting to that point on his own.~~)

(--And if Stanford decided to tell Stanley _everything_... She’d seen the writing on the wall; she knew exactly what was going to happen if she didn’t do something drastic. Stanley would never, ever take her side in this, and she knew it, and-- it had made her angry all over again. The unfairness of it all; the way she’d let herself fall into this trap -- all of it.)

(And a boyfriend who just wasn't going to stand up for her, to his brother or family or anyone else? Was no kind of boyfriend at all.)

(--So instead of waiting for Stanford to ruin absolutely everything _for_ her, she’d dumped Stanley herself first. As hard as she could; she didn’t want Stanley thinking he had even so much as a snowball’s chance in _hell_ of getting her back -- because that would just give Stanford the perfect excuse to tell Stanley to stop trying, and _why_. And then… Well. It wasn’t fair that Stanford should get off so easily, was it? For ruining everything like that, for being such a jerk, for how he’d treated her and talked down to her, for how he'd made her feel about everything when _none_ of it had been her fault -- all of it.)

(...For thinking she was too stupid to get any little bit of payback, let alone get away with it.)

(And Carla didn’t feel sorry in the _least_ about it. Not at all; not even a little. --Because all she’d done was break his project at the _exact_ wrong moment, using a very similar and _practical_ application of _her_ own science fair project on the use of electromagnetic waves for transmission and interference. A highly-practical application that she had very deliberately _not_ written about in any of what she’d submitted for her grade, or on her poster board, or anything else beyond the set of blueprints she’d made for the little RF ‘trigger’ receiver device that would heat up when exposed to the right frequencies and a high enough magnitude to _melt_... while attached to a specialized mixture that was rather chemically-unstable at said high temperatures, to go off and _explode_ inside the base of that stupid device, trashing the insides and letting off a not-insignificant amount of smoke just for good measure. Once she’d finished making everything she’d needed, she’d immediately _burned_ the blueprints in her backyard afterwards, straight down to ash and dust. Every last little piece of it. And then she'd gone through with it, her hand on the button of the transmitter that would set it all off, standing there, listening in from the outside of the gymnasium, hiding in nearly plain sight and waiting for _just_ the right moment, until... She’d gotten her revenge all right, and even more.)

(She’d kept her own submitted project almost completely theoretical, too, with just a token applied demo for the fair -- as was requested in the assignment -- and what had she gotten? -- _A pat on the head_. If she’d been _Stanford Pines_ , the ‘teachers pet nerd’ of the school, she would’ve gotten accolades and praises; those college admission board people would have come to Glass Shard Beach to see _her_ , instead. But no. She was just a _girl_ , not _the great Mr. Pines_ , and so all _she_ got from her teachers was a mere glance and an ‘oh yes, that’s nice Ms. McCorkle...’ and **nothing** else. And yet--)

(Carla was _glad_ that she’d done it. Even _she_ hadn’t realized what an absolute _liar_ Stanford really was before then. She’d heard what a few of those college board admission people had said to each other as they’d been walking out of the gymnasium, leaving the school, and-- she was just glad that some _real_ genius-level people had been able to look over what Stanford had done and _finally_ set the record straight on him for everybody, once and for all. He was a poser. A **loser**. -- _So what_ if his project had managed to spin for a little over a week straight, one week _wasn’t_ the same thing as perpetual- _forever_ , and he hadn’t even been measuring the speed it had been spinning at over the course of that week, to see if it had been slowing down at all! He hadn’t even bothered to check his work, the theory against the experimental practice; he’d reportedly only been running it for two days straight before the fair had begun. And yet he'd _dared_ to claim that--)

(Breaking the project was meant to embarrass him in front of those people. Or make him mad later when he tried to figure out what had gone so very wrong and just _couldn’t do it_. She’d only wanted to embarrass and outsmart him. But she hadn’t expected what had happened next. Because when those college admissions people had questioned him on his project--)

(--The "great" Stanford Pines hadn’t been able to explain his work once it had broken! And it had left Carla with a deep, dark feeling of terrible satisfaction, that he’d been caught out like that. Because she _never_ would have suspected that he’d actually been _lying_ about the science behind his project! She hadn’t questioned his work properly; no-one at the high school had, not even the teachers. But maybe they all should have sooner. Because if his equations had been sound… if his understanding of it was real because _it_ was real… then _it wouldn’t have mattered that it had broken_ , because the science behind it would have still been sound. And if those admissions people were as smart as she thought they were… it hadn’t been. --She'd heard what those people had said about his paper as they'd been leaving the school; they'd all been given copies of it and had read it during the trip, before they'd come. And the discussion had been truly eye-opening for her. --They'd only bothered to still come in to the school anyway -- _despite_ what they’d read in that paper -- because they'd been in the area. They'd thought they were wasting their time already _before_ even coming in, because...)

(And it mattered. It mattered a _lot_. Because just like Mr. Harman always said, the science was what mattered there. Not everybody who was booksmart was good at working with their hands, and their teacher knew full well that getting physical demos working could be _super_ -hard even for people who knew what they were doing, especially depending on the project and the physical tolerances involved. And this project hadn’t been for their tech ed class, it had been for science class: _the science_ had needed to be sound. That was why the physical demo had been only a quarter of the grade for the project, and practically a toss-away ‘easy A’ at that, along with the poster board that had been another five; it was the _paper_ that had gone along with everything that had been a full _seventy_ percent of the grade for it.)

(...And Stanford probably didn’t even realize yet that the first place award for the science fair had been rightfully been re-awarded to _her_ afterwards, after he’d been caught out like that by a bunch of real _somebodys_ who’d been smart enough and _well-respected_ enough to actually be able to call him out on it finally, _and_ get it to stick. The jerk. He’d _never_ seen her as a competitor or peer.)

(--Well, screw him. The stupid jerk hadn’t even _tried_ to apply to any colleges, from what she understood -- Stanley would’ve been talking about it left-and-right while they’d been dating, if he had. Meanwhile, _she’d_ applied to West Coast Tech herself _months_ ago, long before the college’s deadline, along with all the _other_ universities she’d been looking into that looked even halfway decent, and with _her_ grades--)

Miz frowned and rubbed her temples, having picked up a lot of what Carla had ranted about loudly in frustration in her thoughts. "Okay. So this was apparently even more fucked up than I thought. Right. Got it." She sighed. "Well shit then." She didn’t look any happier than Carla did. "And he’s a little twat. He--" Miz made a frustrated sound. "--and goddamn if I don’t kinda know how you feel, maybe…" she muttered. "Damn awkward nerds. Why did that have to be my type?!"

Carla let out a startled laugh, as she looked up at Miz and stared at her incredulously. "You like _Stanford?_ " And when she realized Miz was serious, she went from looking incredulous to downright _**HORRIFIED**_. " _No_ \--"

"No! No-no-no! I don’t like him _emotionally!_ Or romantically! He’s--" Miz waved her hands angrily. "He tried to peel off a piece of my skin because he was _curious_ about my biology--" (The horrified look got worse.) Miz huffed. "Look, I admit, I find him attractive on an aesthetic level, and whenever he’s _not_ being a jerk, he’s almost cute, but first of all, he’s too young for me, and second of all, he’s a _twat_ ," she groaned.

Carla twitched, frowning furiously. "He's not a 'twat'; he's a complete fucking _horror_ show of a human being! --And I use the term 'human being' _loosely_ , when it comes to him!"

"Well yeah, he’s kinda almost worse than some demons I’ve met…" Miz groaned. "But he’s still a kid, he might still be able to change, get better? Grow as a person?" (Carla snorted, because he was a seventeen-year-old _guy_ to begin with.) Miz made a frustrated sound. "But I don’t know how to teach him to be better! Hell, I’m still learning to be better! Since I don’t--" She shuffled her feet. "Don’t really know how to be a good human… the older Stan’s been kinda teaching me? I know he’s trying to teach Bill but I can’t tell if either of us are doing any better--" Miz cut herself off. "That’s not the point, I _want_ him to be **better**. He’s intelligent, he could do so much good for humanity if he was better and…" Miz slumped in place. "And I’m just being naive aren’t I?"

"Look," Carla told her, ignoring the 'better human' stuff she didn't really get and just leveling with the girl in front of her, as she adjusted her books in her arms. "Don’t go getting your hopes up on him, on _anything_. He’s just _not_ worth it," Carla told her. (And why this girl seemed to think that _Stanford Pines_ was the person to pin the ‘hopes of _humanity_ ’ on… Good lord, there were _plenty_ of other people around out there who’d be a _hell_ of a lot better at it! Because...) "Stanford Pines just doesn't care about other people; he thinks we're all too _stupid_ for him to bother with," Carla warned her. "If he doesn't think you're smarter than he is, well, then he _isn't_ going to listen to you -- and he doesn't think _anybody's_ smarter than him." Carla gave her a long look. " **You** do the math."

"I kinda got that when he off-handedly called his own brother, who wanted to drop out of school and work three jobs to give the money to Ford after he was thrown out, ‘stupid’," Miz grumbled. (...Well, Carla could agree with that; Stanford wasn’t worth doing any of that for, and he sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate it. That _would_ be a stupid thing to do!) Miz folded her arms. "Bill’s smarter than him. But little Ford’s too self-centered to really care." She frowned. "And older Ford’s too traumatized…" She paused. "Could I traumatize him into being a better person? Like a scare tactic?" she asked herself, not really expecting Carla to respond as she thought aloud to herself. "Augh, but Stan would never forgive me for messing with his brother…"

"--Look, I don't know what the deal with you ‘aliens’ is, but _I_ need to get to class before the bell rings," Carla told her, having noticed that the girl wasn't really talking to her anymore, and wanting to wrap this all up and get going. (At this point, she was a bit relieved that she'd finished eating lunch early and gone off to her locker pretty much right away before Miz had accosted her, or she would have been _very_ late for her next class.) "But from one girl to another? If this 'older Stan' of yours is teaching you to be a 'better human', or whatever, maybe tell _him_ to try taking on Stanford instead. -- _Don't_ waste your own time on him. He's _not_ worth the stress, _believe_ me," she told Miz.

"Right…" Miz rubbed her face. "I’ll mention that to him, dunno if he’s gonna think he needs to, considering the young Stan still loves his brother unconditionally, even with all the shit he’s put him through."

"Not your problem," Carla told her succinctly, as she headed for the door to the classroom. "Oh, and one more thing," Carla said, turning back towards her. "Don't bother picking up Stanford's lie about his stupid project," Carla said almost haughtily, "You won't get anywhere with it."

"...I’ll keep that in mind." Miz sighed, feeling rather tired.

Carla smiled. "Good." (Because while they really couldn't get anywhere with it, she didn’t want to have to deal with it, though. And besides, even if they _did_ somehow manage to prove that she’d done something to it in some way, it wouldn’t really matter to Stanford’s grade in the long run...)

And then Carla added, after losing the smile: "Because even his 'stupid' twin brother knew that that project was completely bogus himself." Even if she hadn't realized exactly how right Stanley _was_ at the time until much, much later.

(Really, she wished she’d realized that _Stanley_ was the _smart_ twin from the start. Things would have been absolutely _perfect_ if she’d known...)

And with that, Carla let out a huff of breath (at herself), flipped her hair over her shoulder, and strode out the door of the classroom, which slammed shut on its own behind her.

"Well yeah, a perpetual motion machine would be impossible, and if he really HAD succeeded, he would have created infinite energy…" Miz grumbled to herself. "And if he could have done that, he would have just rebuilt the damn thing and ‘made millions’ or some shit." She sighed. Because, really, Ford’s machine wasn’t a real perpetual motion machine at all. That wasn’t the point though, the point was that the stupid thing ruined the lives of two children. Miz really wanted to set something on fire. This was all so _stupid_.

The bell rang abruptly, and Miz winced. Time for class; ah, at least she’d eaten lunch already.

Miz turned and left the classroom, might as well get back to her group for now.

\---

Lee looked up as he spotted Miz coming down the hall. "Hey, where’ve you been?" he asked good-naturedly (but also a little worriedly, because he was pretty sure the demon would take it out on him among others, if something bad ever happened to his little sister in their school). It was a good thing they had study hall this period on Mondays, or somebody might actually care that they were now coming in _late_ to the classroom. (Well, maybe just Miz. He'd had to hit the restroom himself -- for real, this time -- but he'd put his own stuff in the room already.)

Miz shrugged. "Had to go and clarify something," she said simply. Miz took Lee’s hand and squeezed gently. "So, did you finish your homework for English class? I forgot to check on that over the weekend…"

Lee tilted his head back and _groaned_ as they walked together to the ‘study hall’ classroom.

At the look he got from Miz for that response, Lee let out a sigh and said, "I’ve got time to do it now." He’d been looking forward to goofing off for the next hour, though. (And now he knew he wasn’t gonna get that, because Miz would want to ‘check it’ now, and… she didn’t treat English stuff like she did math. The math stuff, she’d let him screw up himself, as long as she thought he’d ‘tried’. But the _English_ class stuff, hoo boy...)

Miz sat herself down right beside Lee in the classroom and stared at him until he groaned ("Yeah, yeah…") and pulled out some lined paper, giving up on getting to _relax_ that period, and getting down to doing the creative writing assignment, instead.

...It didn’t really help that she was _still _ignoring Sixer, either. Lee was gonna get watched like a hawk because Sixer wasn’t gonna be able to distract her, and he could see that his brother was _upset_ at being shunned. Lee looked back down at his paper and grimaced as he started to write.__

____

____

He had seen that a lot when they were much younger, the shunning thing, whenever someone was grossed out at Sixer’s hands and didn’t want to be around him. (Which had been, well, pretty much _everybody_ ~~except those carnival freaks that one time~~. ...And, y’know, totally stupid, because Sixer’s hands were _awesome_ , not gross.)

Sixer had stopped caring so much as they got older, writing off other people just as they had written him off. Lee had seen the way Sixer closed himself off over time. He’d started acting like he didn’t care about anyone else.

Lee paused for a second and frowned, absently tapping his pencil against the paper. ...Well, no, that wasn’t it. Sixer really _didn’t_ care about anyone else anymore. He’d stopped caring. (Not that Lee could really blame him. ~~And after what pa had said as a parting shot when he'd tossed Sixer out…~~ Lee glanced over at his twin.) Sixer had gotten used to being alone -- except for him -- and he hadn't really wanted to be around anybody else. He'd stopped wanting friends, or anything else, out of anyone else, really. (Well, other than the teachers at school ~~and their parents~~ anyway…)

But now Lee wanted Miz’s attention. And he’d also pushed her away, done something to make her angry enough that she was ignoring him (again), when he finally wanted someone else’s attention again. Lee almost wanted to tell him _‘I told you so,’_ but managed to hold back from doing it. (That wouldn't help; it'd just hurt his twin brother all over again.)

And now Miz was giving _him_ all her attention when Lee didn't really want it (and Sixer was getting a really scary level of watchful attention from the other demon that Sixer didn't even seem to be _noticing_ ). Lee sighed. --Why did this have to be a thing?

Sixer was seated next to Miz, trying and failing to hide his hurt expression. (Bill, himself, was seated right next to _him_ , **WATCHING** HIM.) Miz ignored Sixer for a good half hour before she sighed.

"I guess I really am stupid." Miz muttered before turning and looking right at Sixer. (Bill's steady expressionless gaze flicked away from Sixer and over to her as she said this.) "--Look, you are an idiot when it comes to people. You’re also a jerk," Miz informed him. Sixer looked taken aback and opened his mouth to protest but Miz pressed a finger against his lips. "Shush, I am talking right now. You will listen, and you will think about it. Once I’m done explaining what you did wrong, I will ask you a few questions to see if you cared enough to _try_ and find the correct answer. If you can’t even do that, I will simply ignore you and write you off for being an idiot, just like _you_ do with everyone _else_ in your life."

Sixer straightened in place and felt himself color. He wanted to protest immediately -- he _wasn't_ an idiot! -- but he managed to keep his mouth closed (largely because it sounded like she'd give him a chance to protest her argument next), and slowly nodded at her, instead.

Miz sighed. She centered herself and took a calming breath. "You don’t care about other people’s feelings," she said simply. "Heck, you don’t care about other people at all." She glared at him. "That is not good. Because it means you’re an insensitive jerk who never thinks about how the people around you might feel when you say the things you do." (Sixer frowned; he didn't think that had ever been a problem before Miz.) "--I’m not saying you have to care about _everyone_ ," Miz continued, "But at the very least, you could be less of an ass to people. Especially when you actually want to hang out with them," she said pointedly. "Which brings me to my first question: why do you care so much about getting good grades? _Why_ do you want recognition? If other people are just stupid and not worth your time, then why do you _care_ so much about getting their praise and acknowledgement when you, yourself, don’t want to acknowledge anyone else?"

**(((((((((Quick note, the young Sixer here is an asshole, and we the writers of this fanfic do not agree with his bullshit. He’s a twat and should not be taken for any sort of role model at all, _ever_. There are some _very_ messed-up and subversively-wrong things twisted into Sixer’s rhetoric below, so please be _very_ careful as you read. Racism _is_ wrong (and pretty damn stupid, as Sixer does note correctly), but he gets a lot of other stuff here wrong. To correct some of the most major things for the record: there is a _very_ big difference between ignorance and stupidity; socioeconomic status _does_ have a major and severe impact on one’s ability to get an education and perform lifelong learning; and a person cannot simply start from nothing and ‘make it’ in life without multiple chances to make it big and fail and get up and _have the chance_ to try again, and a good bit of luck and opportunity to go along with it, along with the support of others. Single-person success stories are a myth; it’s never actually a single person managing to do it all without a _lot_ of support from others and the leveraging of a _great_ opportunity that they saw or found (not made themselves), if you actually go and look into it. Thank you.))))))))**

Sixer folded his arms and snorted. "Well." he started. "I don’t particularly enjoy the thought of having rocks thrown at me my entire existence," quite literally. "People generally don’t attack their betters, when they realize that they _are_ better than them in some way. These subjects aren’t hard, so putting in the effort to show that I can do well at them, in the way they want the information regurgitated back to them, is only a matter of course." He was _well_ ahead of his classes, and had been for some time; he’d read any book of any seeming importance and worth in the library by that point _long_ ago. If it wasn’t for mail-order booksellers, and monthly academic journals, he’d likely have gone insane from boredom a year or two ago. "If I do well on my tests, people look to that, and compare it against their own scores, and understand that I can do something that they cannot," he said. "Even my parents considered good grades to be important. _And_ it puts me in good standing with the teachers, who generally don’t like their better students being bullied into the emergency room."

Miz _stared_. "Are you… kidding me right now?" She asked flatly. The look on Sixer's face showed he was serious, he actually believed it. "Okay, first of all, the only people who threw rocks at you were the assholes who just wanted to pick on you because they’re assholes. No one’s doing that to you anymore, they haven’t done that in years." (Yes, they’d stopped doing that around the time that he’d started being recognized as intelligent at school. Sixer wondered how supporting his own argument was supposed to be helping her own...) "And you being _better_ than Crampelter hasn’t stopped him from still being an asshole towards you, since it was never about the hands, it was just about him wanting to pick on someone smaller than him, always has been." She saw Lee nodding unconsciously out of the corner of her eye. "The high test score is one thing, but knowing the correct answers doesn't make you better. There are people who are denied a formal education. Are they stupid if they weren't even allowed to learn?"

Sixer frowned at her at that. "They are if they’re in any way literate, and haven’t sought out the information themselves at the public library; nothing’s keeping anyone from going there to read whatever they want, if they’re intelligent enough to actually think of doing so, and then understand what they’ve gone and read."

Lee stared at his brother. _He_ saw where Miz was coming from with this question. There were poor kids who couldn’t afford school and had to work at the family business, or on farms and stuff; adults wouldn’t have the _time_ to read, with two or three jobs, and maybe some extra mouths to feed and take care of. And then there were all those people in those villages in third world countries that didn’t have schools or libraries at all. Lee knew about that, so Sixer _should_ know about that, too. Hell, they’d learned about that in Social Studies class. And yeah, Sixer _kind_ of had a point there, but Sixer was _also_ completely missing the frigging point that _Miz_ was making.

So Lee spoke up. "That ain’t what she’s getting at, Sixer. She means, what if they literally _can’t?_ LIke, if they aren’t living here in Jersey or wherever, and there aren’t any libraries or schools anywhere near where they are? Or if they have to work full-time just to have a roof over their head and food to eat, so they don’t have time to go off reading whatever they want," and yeah, Lee saw him about to protest, "And even if they’re tired but have some time at night, what happens if the libraries are all closed by the time they get out? She’s wantin’ to know, do you think people are stupid even if they don’t have no way to learn book stuff, even if they wanted to?"

"Well, yes," Sixer said simply, adjusting his glasses. "Because they don’t know anything. Therefore, they’re stupid." And Lee felt so _frustrated_ at his twin, because what the hell??

"Ignorance is NOT stupidity," Bill said almost _too_ casually, looking over his fingernails, as he not-quite eyed Sixer sidelong.

"Willful ignorance _is_ stupid," Sixer said right back, looking annoyed. "Knowledge is how you better yourself; the application of it is how humanity as a whole had _made_ for themselves the time to do other things."

"...This is true," Bill said very coolly. "But do you know how you all _started_ that cycle in the _first_ place?"

Sixer frowned at Bill.

"Well, not everyone is as lucky as you, with people taking care of your physical needs and supporting you so that you can read and learn to your heart’s content," Miz pointed out. "What would you have done if Lee or Stan hadn’t decided to help you after you were thrown out?" Because no one else would have helped you, was what she didn’t say, but Lee could hear it loud and clear.

"I--" Sixer was a little taken aback. "I went to the boat. I… would have stayed there, to start with…" Sixer frowned. He was a bit less distraught than he’d been when he’d first been thrown out. "School lunches are free for those without the means. And… there _is_ the foster care system. ...And I doubt that the authorities would have been particularly pleased to hear that a seventeen-year-old had been thrown out of their home by their parents. I wouldn’t have _starved_ ," Sixer pointed out with a grimace. "And I still would have been able to continue to go to school and get my diploma…"

"They certainly didn’t do anything to help Stan when _he_ was thrown out in the other timeline…" Miz muttered.

"Stanley doesn’t like taking handouts," Bill said casually. "There are always strings attached. _And_ he’s stubborn. And going to school would mean seeing ‘Ford again, which would have had ‘Ford having a fight with him, and _possibly_ Filbrick getting him tossed out of the school --" because Stanley had skipped like it was going out of style, and attending would have just been disruptive for ‘Ford, and Stanley might’ve ‘sabotaged’ more of ‘Ford’s work... "-- or worse." _Worse_ being not sheltered from getting arrested by the cops anymore when he ‘pulled the usual shit’ again, by the very nature of not being the kid of somebody in the community (who would silently stand up for him, and then punish him for his shit and make him make it up to whoever later, if and when he got caught at it). "...And _Stanley_ already had what he thought was a clear pathway forward, to getting his ‘family’ back, which he couldn’t _have_ back until then." And in Stanley’s mind -- from what Bill had Seen when he’d been looking around during that one quick Dreamscape tour of his memories, looking for the combination to that safe -- that had included ‘Ford, who had drawn those curtains together on him ‘that one fateful night’ pretty harshly! He’d made it _clear_ that he was standing with Filbrick, not wanting to see him again, at least at the time! (Not until he’d _needed_ him as a ‘patsy’ of sorts to draw Bill’s attention off of him for a little while… or so he’d _thought_ …) Bill leaned back in his chair and glanced over at her.

"He shouldn’t have _had_ to do that. It’s too sad." Miz looked legitimately upset by this. Lee winced. Sounded like things really _had_ been that bad for that older him. (And now he knew why the old-man him had insisted on talking to their old man, if Pa hearing about Sixer still going to their school might have maybe had Pa trying to _stop_ him from doing it…) Miz shook her head. "Well, either way, there are people who can’t get support like that. They aren’t given the chance to gain knowledge or better themselves. Do you still think that they’re stupid if they want to learn but just can’t get the opportunity?"

"If they were truly smart, they’d recognize the importance of learning, and they’d think of a way to do it. They’d find a way," Sixer said staunchly. "Otherwise, how would the human race as a whole have reached they heights that they have today?" Sixer demanded, glancing back at Bill. "It wasn’t as though they had libraries back when the species solely consisted of hunters and gatherers."

Miz rolled her eyes. This was a pain, to try and talk to him. "Well, lots of people died in order for your species to make it this far. Many times they left their notes behind for the next generation to hopefully do better than they did."

"--Yes," Sixer agreed, jumping on that quickly. "The intelligent ones did what they could, despite the fact that they were limited by the technology and knowledge of their times! Exactly!" He smiled, because he believed that, with that, Miz had just proven his point!

"So if you died because you studied instead of eating, would that make you smart?" Miz asked.

"Well, no," Sixer said. "That’s why we became agrarians instead of hunter-gatherers, in fact -- to become more efficient at food production, and then have more ‘leisure’ time to work on bigger and better things."

" _You’re welcome_ ," said Bill. (Lee glanced over at him at that, frowning.)

Miz considered that. "And for the people who had to work so that others could have leisure time? What if the workers wanted to have an education, but if they stopped doing their jobs, other people would suffer? Like if you were working to support a family?"

Sixer frowned at her. "It’s not like there isn’t a _scale_ of smart to dumb," Sixer told her. "And if I was less intelligent than those who were more capable, _of course_ I would want to support them. --They would make things better for everyone, much faster, which would lead to less work for those below them, so that those in the next rung down could be educated to take up _their_ work and _they_ would be left to stand on _their_ shoulders and reach new heights in everything else that would come next, and so on and so forth." If that was the case, he’d just have to wait his turn; he wouldn’t though, because he was at the top of the heap ~~no matter _what_ Pa or those stupid college admissions people might say~~.

"But do you think they’re stupid if they don’t have an education themselves? Just because they weren’t able to get one?"

"If someone _wanted_ an education, and they were truly intelligent -- hence _smart_ \-- then they would be able to educate themselves," Sixer maintained. "Just like everyone before them, from the lowest cavemen to the modern-day man today."

"You know," Miz said quietly. "Back in my old dimension, where everyone were shapes, the government specifically disallowed education for the lower caste." She saw Bill stilling in place. "The lowest caste wasn’t even allowed to do more than learn to read."

Sixer frowned. "...Well, this isn’t your dimension," Sixer said. "Maybe that’s the problem you’re having with this concept? --No-one is preventing anyone from getting a better education here," he told her, with confidence. "That would be stupidity itself in the extreme. _Everyone_ **here** knows better than that." He paused. "I’m assuming that part of the problem in your dimension would have to have been that _writing_ was heavily regulated, so that reading would be useless for the lower castes." He paused. "But you’re clearly intelligent. Were you one of the upper or lower castes?" he asked, curious.

"What caste I was _shouldn’t_ matter," Miz told him. "And education suppression happens here too." Miz pointed out. "Do you remember a little thing called racism? Jim Crow? On paper, they’re no longer around. But in practice, it’s still happening. There are children all across America right now, who are barred from getting a proper education for all sorts of unfair reasons." She let that sink in for a bit.

"Look, racism is a problem, and _clearly_ stupid, but it’s been a problem for a long time," Sixer told her. "We’re working on that," Sixer said, feeling annoyed, "And we _are_ still able to get _enough_ of an education to be able to move upwards from there." (Reading was the first step, and literacy wasn't going unaddressed, or being prevented or suppressed here. And as far as Sixer was concerned, he was in that exact situation: getting himself a _proper_ education by finding ways to get himself the advanced reading and textbooks that he needed in order to do so, largely from the library, until that had stopped being enough.) "And I should think that what caste you were might be pertinent to this conversation," Sixer told her.

Miz sighed before she said quietly, almost shamefully, "My society was based on our shape. The more sides we had, the higher up on the rung we were. I’m a triangle." She paused. "Just a stupid _unnatural_ triangle, that’s what they all called me."

"Well, then that is just proving my point about racism being stupid, you know," Sixer told her eagerly, sitting forward in his seat. "You aren’t unintelligent, but you were considered lower caste. The ‘shape’ of one's body shouldn’t matter when it comes to intelligence, just like the number of fingers I have doesn’t matter when it comes to that, either."

"Racism IS stupid. And your fingers don’t matter either." Miz agreed. "But that doesn’t mean that anyone who isn’t on your level is stupid. Lee isn’t stupid, and you shouldn’t call him that. Everyone has their own circumstances. Just because they’re not a genius, doesn’t make them dumb."

"I didn’t say Lee was dumb," Sixer said, adjusting his glasses. "I said he was stupid. -- _Willfully_ stupid." he told Miz. "He doesn’t see the value of even _trying_ to get himself a good education, and that’s ‘strike one’. He refuses to try and get himself even a _basic_ one, of the quality that they are offering to us, here. He skips school, doesn’t take _any_ of his homework seriously, and _doesn’t_ bother to learn what he actually needs to learn, even when I tell him what that is, that’s ‘strike _two_ ’." Sixer frowned as he sat back. "Most of what they teach at school _isn’t_ all that important or useful," Sixer admitted. "So I've generally let Lee copy most of my work in the past, with enough minor modifications that we can’t get in trouble for ‘cheating’." (Lee winced a little, as) Sixer rolled his eyes. "But surely, you can agree that it _is_ stupid of him not to take advantage of the opportunity to better himself and expand his mind, on the things that _do_ matter and _will_ be able to help him later in life? He isn’t _capable_ of differentiating between _any_ of it, what is useful and what is not," Sixer told her, "But what is worse is that he doesn't ever come to me -- who _knows_ what is and isn't important and can tell him -- _despite_ the fact that he _knows_ I will do this, _knows_ that I consider getting a decent education important, and _knows_ that I will happily take the time out and away from my _own_ learning to help him to learn whatever he needs to know, if ever he did take me up on it again, _like he used to_. --And yet, he _still_ refuses to learn! He'd rather spend his time doing other, _frivolous_ things, instead -- such as boxing and wrestling, neither of which he is good enough at to make into a real career, and after-school jobs that teach him no skills he could leverage to be earning higher earnings in the future, to have to work _less_ over time rather than _more_ once he graduates, and a here-and-gone-again _high-school girlfriend_ who he insisted upon wasting a good portion of that money on, instead of putting it into the boat he was planning on using long-term as a house and a home once he turned eighteen. -- **None** of that will help him in the long run, **not** at all, and yet _even after I have explained all of this to him in the past_ ," he sent a long look Lee's way, "He still _persists_ in his _highly_ -incorrect belief that all of _that_ is more important than _learning_ , somehow. --And _that_ , as far as I’m concerned, is a _very_ big ‘strike _**three**_ ’."

Miz frowned. She wasn’t entirely sure how to tackle that one. She glanced over at Bill, but he remained silent, seeming almost disinterested in the conversation at this point. "It _is_ bad that Lee doesn’t want to learn as much as he can. But sports aren’t frivolous learning. A Stan from another timeline I’ve visited became a professional football player and he was doing well for himself, rich, successful, loving fiancee and even started his own company." Lee’s eyes widened. "But he was prompted to do that by his brother, who _encouraged_ him to stay in sports and work _harder_ on it, try out _different_ sports and find one that he _was_ good enough at to do professionally, **and** go to college as a business major as a fallback in case things didn’t work out on the football side." She kept out the part that it was Seb and _not_ Ford who’d gotten Stan to pursue his hobbies. "So I’m sure Lee could do well if he applied himself, but currently, he just doesn’t have the motivation to do so." Lee shrunk in on himself and Miz reached out to pat his shoulder. "Look, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I know you can do better."

"Lee isn't interested in football," Sixer told her. "What he wants to do is either boxing or wrestling. Boxing is too dangerous; I'm not going to encourage my twin to have his brains beaten out until the point that he's no longer my brother due to the head injuries. Football also has the same problems; one wrong fall and you're out, or worse. And even if Lee _had_ expressed an interest in it, getting seen by a recruiter at the right time for college football leaves _far_ too much up to chance," and it was far too late now for him to try and join the school team here, even if Lee suddenly _wanted_ to go that route. Sixer sighed. "Competitive wrestling doesn't make enough money, or garner enough fame to his satisfaction. And, _as I said before_ ," Sixer repeated, "Lee _doesn't_ listen to me when I tell him an education is important! I don't know what that _other_ Stanley is like, but _clearly_ **he** _listened_ to **his** twin when _he_ told him to go off and get a business degree." Sixer shot Lee a dark look. (Lee winced, hunched his shoulders, and tried to focus on his essay.) "You seem to be able to threaten Lee into doing his work; perhaps _you_ can convince him that getting an education of _some_ sort is a good idea," Sixer said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, glaring at Lee all the while.

"Well," Miz turned to Lee. "The older Stan wants Lee to at least get his diploma to start." She paused and then realized she would have to run some damage control. She patted Lee’s shoulder gently. "Look, Lee, going to school won’t mean giving up on the boat. You can always graduate college and then go off sailing. Stan regrets what he had to go through. He doesn’t expect you to go to college, but there’s nothing wrong with trying harder to learn more." (Lee shifted in place uneasily at this.) Should she tell him? Well, it might help to give the twins some perspective.

Miz sighed. "The older Stan had to teach himself advanced mechanical engineering and physics from books in order to fix the portal and find Ford. He didn’t have schooling, he didn’t have a teacher, he had one third of the blueprints and the motivation of wanting his brother back. And he taught himself how to build an interdimensional portal _and_ a genetic scanner to track down ‘Ford Pines’." Miz told them seriously. "All on his own." She made a disgruntled face. "And _somehow_ he **still** thinks he’s stupid, even when he’s _clearly_ not," she complained. "He can make over $1000 within 10 minutes and still think that he’s an idiot. Because he was called ‘stupid’ all his life and he’s stuck thinking of himself that way." It was so frustrating! Miz folded her arms. "Stan is _not_ stupid." She repeated. "And you’re not stupid either. But you’re unmotivated. And as a muse, I don’t like seeing you waste your potential." She paused. "It took Stan 30 years to fix the portal, because he didn’t get an education. I’m certainly hoping your Ford doesn’t get lost in space, but you shouldn’t have to end up in that situation."

Lee was amazed at what the older him could do, but that still didn’t mean that… "Look, I’m--"

"If you’re about to call yourself stupid, don’t." (Lee winced. That... actually hadn't been what he'd been about to--) And Miz barreled on. "If you do something dumb, you can call yourself dumb for doing that dumb thing because everyone can do dumb things sometimes, but in general? You’re not stupid, no matter what your brother has told you. You’re perfectly capable of learning, which means you’re not dumb." Miz snapped. "But you _could_ stand to try a little harder. You’re better off than plenty of kids who want to learn and don’t have this chance you do. You shouldn’t waste it."

Lee blinked. "Uh… well… I was just gonna say that… uh… that..." He glanced over at Sixer, took in a breath…

...and chickened out, looking away from Sixer. "...I’m not that other Stan," Lee said instead. "Even if _he_ could do it, don’t mean that _I_ can." He felt a little weird about the _expectation_ that Miz had for him. Even if the older Stan had managed something like _that_ , it had still took him thirty years, right? Hell, if he'd had thirty years to try and fix some portal-thing that _Sixer_ had made… well, was that kinda woo-woo science stuff _really_ all that hard? ... _Maybe_ he couldn't? "It’s not like I can do everything that the old-man me can." Miz frowned as she heard part of the other thought that Lee _wasn’t_ saying -- that he had stopped trying because Sixer got upset when Lee got better grades than him in anything, and so, Lee had stopped trying altogether, so that he wouldn’t get in his brother’s way. Which was unfair as fuck. And she had already gotten upset at the older Stan for thinking this way too.

"Well, you’ll be better off than he was. You aren’t left all alone to take care of yourself with no help like he was. And you can learn whatever you want, do as well as you want. You don’t have to--" Miz sighed. She’d talk to Lee in private later. "You _can_ do better, so you should try. And don’t let anything hold you back from doing so." (Lee looked uncomfortable at this.) Miz told him before turning back to Sixer, and then a determined look overtook her features as she said loudly, firmly and clearly, while looking at Sixer, "You’re allowed to be smart too."

Lee glanced between Miz and his twin, not really sure what she was getting at -- _of course_ Sixer was smart? He didn’t really get why Miz might think _he_ was smart, but that Sixer might not be? --That seemed _really_ off to him. But Miz was looking very firm on this subject, so Lee kept his stupid mouth shut on that one.

Miz told Sixer, "And you, please stop calling your own brother stupid. It’s mean, demeaning, untrue and very rude. It’s fine to say it as a joke or when you’re teasing, but you’re not joking, you actually think he’s stupid, and that’s not nice. It makes Lee think that he _shouldn’t_ even try. Part of the reason why he doesn’t make an effort is because he’s so used to the idea of being stupid that he thinks he shouldn’t bother to do better." Which made Lee frown and Sixer glanced over at his twin with a complicated expression.

"But it’s true," Sixer repeated. "I just _told_ you why."

Miz glared. "Not according to Einstein." She said simply. "Einstein once said that it’s not about what you _don’t_ know but about what you _do_ know. And what you’re capable of knowing." Miz said, making Sixer jolt in place. "And Lee knows people. He’s pretty good at it. And he’s perfectly capable of learning more stuff, he just doesn’t have the motivation to do so." She glanced at Lee. Then she poked her finger at the english homework he should be doing.

"Not seeing the importance of learning _is_ stupid," Sixer said, sticking to his guns.

"Look--" Lee started to cut in.

"You said it yourself that you think people less smart should support those who are more smart. Lee thought he should support _you_. And stopped trying to do any learning _himself_ \--" Miz was very upset by this whole fucked up situation.

"-- _Hey!_ " Lee said, cutting in. He didn’t know how the dragon-demon knew that, but-- "Look, I _know_ all that education stuff is important, okay?" he said, trying to move this thing someplace maybe a little less bad. "Sixer wants to do it for a living, or whatever, and that’s fine. I just... don’t. It’s not for me, sitting behind some kinda desk and staring at navels all day or writing a zillion things down on paper and stuff. Okay? I want to go out and actually _do_ stuff," Lee told her. "Like, y’know, treasure hunting? Sailing?" He _liked_ doing physical stuff. "I don’t need a bunch of homework-school stuff for that," he said. It wasn’t like he hadn’t looked up a couple things at the library about boats, to repair the Stan O’ War, to figure out the supplies he’d need, and how sailing worked, and all the rest of that… "Sixer can just… ransack the libraries everyplace we go, and stick around in the cabin doing his navel-staring and equation-ing, if he wants to. That’s fine," Lee told her. "Learning just ain’t for me."

"That’s a lie. You don’t have to learn the _same_ things that Sixer does. And sailing and treasure hunting require specialized education. You already _know_ that. It’s why you went and learned how to fix up the boat, the knots for ropes, how to navigate…" Miz sighed. "That’s _learning_! That is STILL learning. It’s just different learning. And if you KNOW how to do that, then you’re NOT stupid and you need to stop thinking about yourself as such!"

"Wait." Sixer was frowning at Lee now. "...You’ve _actually_ been taking the boat seriously? The whole ‘adventuring’ thing?" He’d thought Lee was just… doing it as a hobby. That he’d kept on doing it, even enlisted a bit of his help for some of it last summer, just as an excuse to spend some time with him, and to get him out of the house and out into the sun...

"Well, yeah," Lee said, kind of surprised that his brother was surprised by this. "I mean, we’ve been talkin’ about doing this for years…" He trailed off, making it almost a question. He’d thought… well, Sixer had never said that he _didn’t_ want to do it? And Sixer had _never_ talked about wanting to do anything else...

"Lee…" Sixer rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "‘Treasure hunting’ _isn’t_ a realistic career goal…" He looked up at his brother, feeling pained at the shocked and suddenly-uncertain look on his twin’s face. "Gold doubloons aren’t just _lying around_ on some desert island somewhere, waiting for you to pick them up…" Sixer straightened, and fixed his glasses. "If they _were_ , then someone else would have found them long before you," he informed his twin.

Miz could see Lee’s mood worsening as the shock and despair set in. And then Lee shook it off.

"Okay," Lee said, nodding at his brother, "But then why do we keep hearin’ about people finding treasure and stuff in the news every so often, if it’s all gone?"

"That isn’t-- Lee, those are from _undersea wrecks_ ," Sixer said, knowing what his brother was talking about. Lee had always shown him the articles. "If we were going to do that, we’d need undersea _diving_ equipment, as a start. And we’d have to find a good way to map out all of the potential as-yet unfound wrecks, and try to predict their movement and their most-likely locations, to determine where to go--"

Lee slapped his hands together and pointed at Sixer. "--See!" he said with a happy smile. "That’s why _you’ve_ gotta be the _brains_ of the outfit!" he grinned. His grin dimmed a little after awhile though, because Sixer _wasn’t_ smiling back.

"Lee. I’m not going sailing with you," Sixer said, frowning slightly. He still could hardly believe that his twin had really thought that...

"But…" Lee said. Then he frowned. "Sixer, what are you thinkin’ you’re gonna do instead?" Lee said realistically.

"I’m going to college," Sixer said simply. "Since West Coast Tech didn’t work out, I’ll have to look into others."

"College costs money," Lee said slowly. "Money that we don’t got." Their Pa had even scoffed at the idea of paying for college before.

"I can apply for a scholarship, I’m more than smart enough to ace the tests for that."

Lee frowned further. "But the teachers said… that was all back in _January_ , wasn’t it?"

"I… may have applied to a few, back then," Sixer said, curling his fingers under his palms, looking vaguely shifty as he said it.

Lee blinked at him. "But Pa said--" Lee stopped. Pa had never really stopped either of them from doing something they’d wanted to do before. "The applications had those fees. $20 a pop. Where did you--" then Lee stopped, and his eyebrows went up as Sixer looked even shiftier. "Sixer… those books that you got outta the library, that I was askin’ you where your mail-order copies were from--"

"--Yes, fine; I lied about that to get the money from him to use," Sixer grimaced.

Lee sat where he was and stared at his brother, who was still looking all uncomfortable and shifty at... what he’d managed to pull off right under their pa’s nose.

"Damn," Lee said. Then he started to grin. "Heh. I’m impressed." Sixer colored. "I mean," Lee said, propping his elbow up, and his head on his fist, grinning, "You even had those packages come in the mail to the house?" Lee asked him.

Sixer adjusted his glasses half-nervously, still blushing. "I kept the old packaging material," he said. "Empty boxes cost _far_ less postage to mail when paying by the pound," he told his brother. "And no-one ever pays attention to the return addresses, just the mail-to address, at the post office."

Lee let out a laugh of delight. "You actually pulled one over on our old man!" Lee crowed out. "And me!" Except… Lee’s jubilation faded as he realized what this all actually meant.

"Shit," said Lee. "Sixer-- the letters are gonna go to the _house_ \--"

"I paid for a P.O. Box," Sixer told him promptly.

"--and we don’t got the money to pay for college for you--"

"Merit-based scholarships," Sixer said next.

"--I don’t think I can handle the boat all by myself..." Lee said, shifting from ‘oh shit, how can I get Sixer what he wants?’ to ‘...what the hell am I gonna do?’ And… Lee started to look so lost. Miz reached over to pat his hand.

"Lee…" Sixer began, but Lee shook himself, pulled his hand away from Miz, and then demanded from his twin: " _Why didn’t you tell me!!_ "

Sixer looked a little shocked at the quick reversal. He hadn’t expected Lee to get _angry_ about--

"--I woulda helped you with it!" Lee told him. "The stuff in the boat account-- hell," Lee said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Damnit, Sixer. I can _maybe_ keep us over the summer, but I don’t got enough money set aside for you gettin’ ready to run off to who-knows-where--" Lee groused, "-- _and_ for me to be tryin’ to handle stuff with you while you’re _not_ helping me with the boat, _and_ handling the boat, _and_ making enough money for--" Lee let out a breath, "-- **and** _now_ I’m gonna have to try to find somebody else to sail with me, too!" Lee blurted out before he’d even really realized he was saying it. Which just left him feeling sick to his _stomach_ , because the very _idea_ of doing _that_ was just… practically freaking _anathema_ to him. It was _SUPPOSED_ to be him and Sixer, together forever, taking on the world on the Stan O’ War! But the boat couldn’t be managed right by just one person; it just wasn’t designed and _built_ that way -- it hadn’t been _on purpose_ from the start.! --He couldn’t _do_ it alone, and there was no other way for him _to_ do it. (So that meant… a second person. Who was maybe not Sixer, if he couldn’t convince him...)

Sixer stared. "You mean… you… you spent all your money on the boat and worked those part time jobs, _all_ this time, because you _actually_ thought I was going to-- to--??" He hissed in a breath, then let out a half-barked out laugh of startlement, "You mean you _actually_ thought that I would just _sail off with you into the sunset_ , and-- and that we could actually _live off of_ \--"

"-- _Yes!_ " Lee exclaimed, slapping the desk at his side. "Drinking water _ain’t_ that expensive," he told his twin. "We don’t need gas for the boat, just repair stuff for the rigging and sails; that ain’t that bad to handle," Lee told his brother; he’d looked into it. "We could fish for most of what we need, for ‘extra’ food, and _sell_ the rest for more money that we would need for other stuff, like canned stuff, and dried stuff, and water, and laundry money..." he gestured off to the side, "Replacements for stuff; port fees; repairs when we’re in harbor; repainting and re-waterproofing the ship every couple a’ years; all of it. I made up a _list_ ," Lee said. "One of those schedules for stuff? A couple years out," he told his twin. "I didn’t want us to run outta something if something went really wrong, like getting a hole in the side, or somethin’. --I was _workin’_ on it. Checking stuff out. Calling around, to price stuff out. Revising the numbers. The math all worked out," he told his twin almost plaintively, who was sitting there straight in place, blinking at him incredulously like some kinda startled owl. Because Sixer had always _insisted_ on that one, right? --If you had the equations right, and you followed all the right stuff and didn’t do anything completely never-gonna-work wrong -- like treating multiplication like division, or dividing by a bunch of zeros? something like that -- then if the math all worked out, and you checked the numbers, checked your work against everything again right at the start of the math… If the math all worked out, then _the math all worked out!_

"You did MATH? _on purpose?_ \--Without being _threatened_ into it??" was what Sixer managed choke out.

Miz sighed as she threw her hands into the air. "Like I _said_ multiple times! Lee only puts effort in when he’s _motivated_! He’s not stupid! He just needs something driving him to actually DO stuff!" She turned to Lee. "Seriously, business school, finances. It’s math about **money**! You’d love it!" She could tell he’d thrive in that environment if he cared to try, she could _feel_ it. The same way she could spot talent from a mile away and know what someone needed to truly inspire them to achieve. She could feel her powers buzzing under her skin, it wasn’t uncomfortable, not yet. And, yeah, Miz knew that Lee would probably get bored with just handling numbers, but he was good at it. Perhaps something else then? But the older Stan did well in running a business, Lee would be able to do it too...

Lee looked between Sixer, and then Miz.

"...I mean," Lee said, feeling _super_ -uncomfortable at the huge 180 he was getting from his brother here on this stuff (on more thing that one...). "It’s not _math_ -math." Not like the stuff that _Sixer_ did -- now, _that_ was _math_. Lee rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. "I mean, it was just… algebra. --We did that stuff in _first grade_ ," he told his twin. "And, uh, in high school again, for some reason." He’d never really gotten that, neither. --Like, what was _up_ with that? Wasn’t _?_ + 12 = 24 the same as _x_ \+ 12 = 24? He didn’t get why they’d had to go through all that stuff **twice**. --And then they’d treated it as some new thing all over again in chemistry class with all those chemical equation things again. But it was just, c’mon, you were movin’ stuff from one side to another, over and over again! Just…

Seriously. He’d known he _had_ to have been missing something there, but he could **never** figure out what! ...Which had just had him giving up on everything even harder, because what was the _point_ if he was _clearly_ missing _everything that mattered_ in class? Sixer could explain all the extra things and patterns and stuff to him, sure, but… that took time away from what his twin was tryin’ to learn, _and_ his own schoolwork. He didn’t want to hold Sixer back! ~~(And the last time that had happened…)~~ \--And the stuff the teachers were putting on the board was always the _exact same stuff_ that they had in the books, as far as Lee could tell, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t _read_. He usually swiped Sixer’s glasses and read ‘em all in the first week or so each school year, hoping there’d be something _interesting_ that he might actually be able to actually _get_ this time… Except there _wasn’t_ , and when he got to class the teachers would just go over the exact same boring stuff that was in the textbooks all over again, and…

It had left him pretty much hating all of those classes -- except Mr. Harman’s class, because at least _that_ teach switched it up a little bit sometimes in class, every so often. But in every _other_ class, Lee was left practically staring at the walls until he was staring out the windows, plotting his next ‘escape’ to go off skipping school to get away from all of this mind-numbing _snore-fest_ , because... --It had been boring as _hell_. The last time he could remember actually having fun in school was the _fifth grade_ , when they’d still got to go outside and do recess, so there’d be _something_ to look forward each day. And then they’d gone to middle school and, yeah, look what they decided to get rid of there? --Gym class just _wasn’t_ the same, when you didn’t get to play ‘killball’ or whatever one-on-one with a demon sometimes, okay? School was _hell_...

"Financial balances are still math. All the other variations on doing the SAME thing with numbers is STILL math! It’s _all_ the same! Humans just call it different things because they like to make different names for the same thing! Algebra, arithmetic, chemistry-- You can do that! You KNOW how to do it! I’ve seen your homework when you actually try!" Miz complained. Because Lee had gotten it right. He DID. He was perfectly capable of doing it! And then he **thought** he was doing it **wrong** , because it couldn’t _possibly_ be so easy -- that they must’ve just gotten his stuff mixed up with Sixer’s again, not actually paid attention to the name at the top of it right. ‘Cause that _was_ a thing -- they barely even _glanced_ at Sixer’s stuff anymore, just gave him the A+’s and moved on to the next one; he’d _seen_ the teachers do that with Sixer’s tests at the front of the room before-- "Stop talking down on yourself! You’re competent and capable of getting stuff done!" Miz nearly sobbed. "Like, dammit, Sixer have you ever LOOKED at Lee’s math homework when he’s NOT copying you?" She reached over to pull out the homework that Lee finished yesterday and shoved it in Sixer’s face.

Sixer adjusted his glasses with one-hand as he took it from her. (Lee hadn’t copied him in math class in years; he’d been on advanced math past his regular grade level since they’d hit middle school, and officially turning it in for his own assignments -- instead of doing effectively twice the bookwork, the normal classwork and his own self-study -- since halfway through high school when he’d finally run into teachers both capable of and interested in grading it.)

And, upon taking the assignment from Miz’s hands, Sixer’s eyebrows went up a little at it as he looked over it…

...and then his eyebrows went back down, and he nodded as he passed it back to Miz. "Yes, you helped him with it properly," he told her, thinking of what had happened the last time he’d seen Lee actually complete his homework, and what he assumed must have happened again this time, too. "Thank you."

...Except Miz glared at him for it. "I didn’t help him with this. I was busy controlling my dragon, remember? Lee did his homework while Stan was taking over the photo line."

Sixer blinked. "So, what you’re saying is that he’s performing properly at our grade level?" He glanced over at his brother. "Then why in the _world_ do you keep wanting to copy my work?" he asked of his twin brother, frowning.

Lee rubbed the side of his arm. "...It’s all really _boring?_ " he said.

Sixer frowned at Lee furiously. He liked the idea of the sheer _laziness_ involved in that even worse!

"I mean, it ain’t actually _right_ , is it?" Lee said, gesturing at the homework assignment. Average for their ‘grade level’ was a C to pass, right?

"...It’s fine," Sixer said, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses again. Honestly, his _brother_ sometimes...

Miz groaned and turned to Sixer. "Lee’s been BORED for YEARS at school because they were teaching him stuff he _already knew and understood_ and he never felt like there was a point in doing anything!" she huffed. (Lee gave her an uneasy look at this. How did she know he felt like him trying at school was stupid?) "And worse is that he _thinks_ he’s getting the answers all wrong because he thinks that it _couldn’t_ **possibly** be so EASY for him!"

"...Well, I suppose that makes sense," Sixer said next, as Lee sat there blinking (because _what_ the heck now?). "I suppose I should’ve noticed it sooner. He’s never seemed to do much worse whenever I’ve stopped allowing him to copy my work. If he wasn’t understanding the material, then he shouldn’t have been able to do it himself without expending a great deal of effort in order to catch up, which I know he had not done." It was a somewhat-novel concept, actually. Sixer had known _intellectually_ , and had heard other students complaining of, such a fact, but… he’d never encountered it himself. And since his twin had never seemed to complain of such, only of having to now do the work himself… he’d never really thought about it. "I should have expected him to be able to do something at this low of a level of difficulty."

"Wait, wait, hold up. Hold the phone." Lee was shaking his head. "How difficult is this stuff supposed to be?" His head was spinning at all of this stuff. He’d never talked to anybody about _learning_ stuff before. Like, this was some kinda, learning _about_ learning kinda stuff, or something?

Sixer looked over at him. "For me? --You know when I was given the textbooks for this class," he told his twin. (Lee grimaced. --Yeah, Sixer was pretty damn far ahead on all of this stuff. Was most of the reason why the teachers didn’t bother trying to grade his work -- Sixer was well into some of those mail-order college textbooks that half the _teachers_ didn’t even understand right. Was half the reason Mr. Harman lit up when talkin’ to Sixer in class, really. Probably reminded him of all those people doin’ all that college Ph.D. stuff.) "But the work isn’t _meant_ to be impossible for the other students at our grade level," he told his brother. "It’s meant to be rather easy to get an A+."

"It’s not _supposed_ to be hard to do _any_ of this stuff, _ever?_ " Lee was blown away by this information. --Because everybody else who wasn’t smart like Sixer? Said that this stuff was _hard!_ Then something occurred to him. "Sixer, what did I get wrong on that?"

Sixer glanced over at his brother, who was looking at least a little gobsmacked, and said, "None of your answers are incorrect." At Lee’s gobsmacked look, Sixer added "Yes, Lee. Congratulations. You did acceptably on the assignment."

...No errors? But that meant… Lee stared at his brother. "Like… I got an A on it?"

"YES!" Miz rubbed at her face. FINALLY! They were getting somewhere!

"An A+, technically," Sixer told him in reasonable tones, feeling a bit bemused at the way his brother was acting at this. "An A is from 93 to a 96. You got a 100% on this. --As I said, no errors."

Miz turned to Lee and repeated firmly, "You’re _not_ stupid. **Stop** thinking that you are."

Lee stared at Miz.

And then Lee looked over to his twin, a confused question in his eyes.

"You’re average for your grade level," Sixer told him with a shrug. Because as far as he was concerned, _anyone_ at their grade level would be able to do that work, if they simply sat down and applied themselves, for once.

Miz rolled her eyes. "Most of your grade level is at a high C+, you’re just a super genius so your perspective is skewed."

Sixer raised his eyebrows at this.

And then Sixer began to smile, and he said, "So you think that I’m _smart_."

At the huff that Miz made at him, Sixer began to grin even more. (He rather liked the recognition, really.)

"You can be as smart as you want, and still be an idiot about things not relating to your specialty." Miz folded her arms and pouted.

"School isn’t supposed to be hard? I got a 100%, just like that. School isn’t supposed to be hard..." Lee was whispering to himself, almost like he was trying to half-convince himself of the truth of it. (Lee was still working through his own little personal revelation…)

"But you _do_ think that I’m smart," Sixer repeated, eyes gleaming. (As far as he was concerned, given enough time, not knowing things related to ‘his specialty’ would _not_ be a problem. He’d never encountered a subject yet that he couldn’t learn, rather easily, so long as he put in the time and the effort.)

Miz blushed. "Fine, yes." And she couldn’t help but add, "It’s why I like talking with you about science. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re mean. And I can’t like you because of that."

Sixer frowned. "I’m mea--?"

\--He was cut off by Lee, who demanded, "Hey. Hey-hey, you’re not messin’ with me, are ya bro?" he asked of his twin. Sixer looked over at him in confusion. "That isn’t, like, a 60 or 70 or something _really_ , is it? It’s _actually_ a 100%?" Lee half-stammered out, unable to believe that... "I mean, it’s-- it’s not _really_ a 100%, right? Right. --Heh. _You got me!!_ Heh!" He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to laugh off the not so funny joke he’d thought had been made at his expense.

Sixer sighed, at the same time as Miz rolled her eyes. ""You got a 100%"" the two chorused out together. And then Miz repeated, again: "You’re not stupid. You’ve _never_ been stupid, the school and the teachers are just BLIND. And you always compared yourself with your brother, who’s so far beyond the rest of your grade that it’s unfair."

Lee stared at them both.

"...You’re _really_ not messing with me, here?" Lee said slowly, feeling very, very lost. "Really?"

"Why would I--" Miz growled, actually growled with a throated rumbled as her eyes glowed.

Sixer quickly reached out and put a calming hand on her shoulder. (It seemed to work for his calming _his_ brother, or at least keeping him from getting in a fight, so…)

"--No, Lee," Sixer said. "I’m not messing with you. When have I ever lied to you?" he asked him next.

"...College textbooks," Lee muttered, crossing his arms and looking away.

"That wasn’t _technically_ a lie, that was a--" Sixer sighed at the look on his twin’s face. "Fine. _Besides_ that."

Lee bit his lip, still feeling a little uncertain.

"You’re doing well enough _on your own_ that I _refuse_ to let you get away with copying _any_ of my homework anymore, how’s that?" Sixer said (to which he wasn’t quite able to hold back a smile at the immediate complaint of "NOOOOOOO!" from Lee, who collapsed across his own desk in -- only half-mock, maybe a quarter-mock, and the rest really-really _real_ \-- despair at this news). "Like I said: congratulations," Sixer told his twin with no small amusement, as he watched all of this.

"...I hate everything about this already," Lee grumbled out, slouching lower across the desk. "I don’t wanna be okay at school; I take it back," Lee said, grabbing at his math homework and missing, because Miz pulled it out of his reach. "I totally copied that down from... _someplace_ by, uh, by usin’ my psychic twin powers or somethin’! Yeah." (Sixer rolled his eyes.) "--That wasn’t me, _really_. --Gimmie! I’ll do it really-wrong this time!" Lee said, trying to grab at his homework again.

(Bill didn’t quite glance over in the direction of these antics, from where he was sitting next to Sixer with his eyes closed.)

(But Bill _did_ start to smile a little bit...)

Miz settled down, her eyes going back to normal and she deadpanned. "No. You can’t go back. You’re good at school. Welcome to nerdom. --But seriously, business school, financials. You would do very well. You’d get to count money for a living. And you can still do the sailing thing on the side."

"Ugh." Lee gave up on managing to take it all back; he was sunk. "...Count _other_ people’s money for a living, maybe," Lee grumbled at the idea of _more school_ , and some kind of ‘desk job’. He pulled his arms in to cross them under his head, as he slouched across his desk. "Boring." The only reason he’d been okay with the stuff for the boat was because it hadn’t been numbers on a page. He’d had to look stuff up, call around, make decisions, try different stuff out with the numbers to _figure out_ what stuff might work better or worse. Like, was ten crates of beans better than five-and-a-half crates of canned meat? --That _wasn’t_ the same thing as all those stupid book problems, where all you were worried about was what _cost_ less, or something; you actually had to figure out how long the food was gonna last, and what was better for you, and whether you were gonna get sick of eatin’ the same thing over and over again, and then try to figure out how to split the difference between the stuff, or maybe just give up and go in for a tea kettle and a bunch of those cup ramen things instead...

(...Okay, maybe not _give up_ give up, but hey, you got what you paid for, right?)

"Well then, if you’re really all for the sailing and deep-sea treasure hunting as a life career thing, you’re gonna have to get a diver’s licence. Deep sea dives require lots of training and a lot more equipment to do it right too, if you want to be safe about it. I could build you the generator, tanks, hoses, hardsuit, and air filtration needed for it, if you’re sure this is what you want," Miz pointed out, shifting gears, because if the boat thing was what Lee wanted to do, then dear lord she was going to tell him HOW to do it. "And to know how to handle and maintain any of that you’d need to go into professional diver training, pass a medical exam, get experience with scuba gear first-- there ARE diving schools! Marine courses at the schools that have them-- They teach how to use the equipment, what depths you can safely go without needing a submarine -- and for some wrecks, they’re way too deep for a human body to survive the pressure so you’d need to get a licence and training to drive a submarine…" Miz listed off. "And, if you have a professional licence as a deep sea diver, you can get jobs in multiple areas, like oceanography, marine biology--" She gave a sly look at Sixer. "And there are _plenty_ of amazing creatures down there in the ocean just waiting to be discovered and documented by humans…"

Lee’s head spun a bit at everything Miz was saying. --If this was what it took to find pirate gold, then yeah, he could understand why some people might have a hard time finding it! Then Lee’s eyes widened when he caught on to what Miz was doing, adding on that last little piece of it: finding weird creatures was _Sixer’s_ ‘thing’. Miz was… was she trying to entice Sixer into wanting to go sailing with him--?

"--and a lot of the programs for training divers are hands-on experience with dives into the ocean. There will be plenty of school work if you’re gonna learn how to use undersea radars to map out the area when searching for shipwrecks--" Miz could see Lee’s eyes go from nearly glazed over to dimming a little bit at the mention of ‘more schoolwork, even as Sixer perked up a bit in mild interest himself. "You’d just have to go to college for this for a few years, and once you get your degree and licence you’d be free to sail all around the world wherever you want as you search for stuff." Miz could see Lee was struggling with the thought of everything she was saying and implying there, even though he was listening carefully to every single word. She decided to sweeten the pot. "And I miiiiiight~ happen to know the general locations of a couple shipwrecks…" _That_ got Lee’s attention again. Miz Flickered just to confirm the location "...like a certain Olympic liner that famously hit an iceberg…" And now Lee was practically salivating at the thought.

Bill was holding back laughter at his little sister tempting Lee.

"Miz," the dream demon murmured, "Don’t ‘inspire’ him too much, now, yes?"

Miz giggled. "Right, calm down there boy." She grinned at the twins, who were both looking a mixture of pretty interested and somewhat-unsure.

Lee was thinking hard. He glanced around, then reached into _Sixer’s_ backpack for some paper (Sixer always had extra school stuff on hand) and started jotting notes to himself down, for things he wanted to look into in more detail maybe. (This didn’t sound like a two-person job, though. This was starting to sound more like it’d need an entire _team_ of people…)

Lee started to frown a bit as he wrote, and started trying to think of the expenses. (Miz had said college, and that cost money… he seriously doubted anyplace had _diving_ scholarships -- _that_ wasn’t a sport…)

"And Atlantis?" Sixer asked Miz, as Lee kept on writing.

Miz Flickered. "Spoiler alert, it’s not in the Atlantic ocean," was her sly response. Sixer’s eyes gleamed almost hungrily.

"You said somethin’ about a generator? And air filtration tanks and things?" Lee asked abruptly.

Miz hummed. "They’re easily built. I’d just need a little something from you. I don’t think I can fully justify _this_ one, sory." Lee stilled in place. _’Demons, right...’_

Lee wavered a bit. "...can I think about it?" he asked the demon. "This is a _lot_ of stuff, here." And he wasn’t gonna be able to figure it all out while he was sitting here in this classroom. He’d need to hit the library and look a couple of things up, go talk to people -- on the phone, he didn’t know nobody in the area who did anything like this. And… this was starting to look a lot more like out and out **work** to pull off than _fun_ , too.

"Give it all the thought you need," Miz said gently. "And this isn’t some end-all, be-all thing. You’re still young. You’ve got options. There are plenty of other things you can do with your life. This is just one option." She paused. "Maybe go talk to some of the fishermen, the ones who go far out into the deep waters. Some fishing boats have radars and diving equipment."

"Ain’t a lot of those types around here," Lee said, frowning. "I’d have to sail off someplace with better waters. _Deeper_ waters," he corrected. There were some problems with coral or something, and some places were way too shallow for anything other than a scow, or _maybe_ a schooner, even when the tide was in...

"This would be a lot of work." Miz warned. "Becoming a treasure hunter isn’t _easy_."

"Yeah…" Lee said slowly. He was starting to get that. He sat back in his chair.

And then he startled a bit, as the end-of-class bell rang.

Lee let out a soft curse, as he started grabbing up his stuff and piling it all together (yeah, he’d finished his English homework), then finally managed to snatch his math homework away and back from Miz.

"Well, next class is Social Studies again," Miz tilted her head. "And it’s just a review class today, so we can sit in the back and talk if you want to keep going."

Lee nodded, "Oh, yeah. I’ve got a _lot_ more questions for you on this stuff," the younger of the two Pines twins told her.

Miz nodded. "--And I have more questions for Sixer." She gathered up her stuff and the group made their way to class.

\---

Lee rolled his eyes, as they walked down the hallway together. Was the demon-dragon _trying_ to piss his brother off? ...I mean, maybe Sixer deserved it a _little_ bit for pissing her off and then not actually meaning his own ‘sorry’ earlier, but...

"But I _am_ better than them! Even _you_ think so!" Sixer exclaimed. "Even if you refuse to go by raw intelligence as a metric, I still study harder and I do better than any of them!"

Miz’s look softened. "You do study hard. You work hard to learn. But that doesn’t excuse you being rude to everyone. This is why no one likes you. It has nothing to do with your hands." Miz sighed when Sixer looked about to protest.

"That isn’t--" Sixer started to say, before Miz interrupted him with: "People hated your hands years ago. But they got used to them, they got _over_ them. No-one _cares_ about your hands anymore. They don’t even notice them." (Lee nodded at that. Because it was true.) "Carla didn’t care about your hands either, it’s why she never bothered to check your fingers; it’s why she didn’t know." Miz huffed. "And you’re twins! And Lee was wearing glasses."

Lee blinked. Wait. What?

Miz saw that Bill was tensing up more than a little. She winced. "Is it okay for me to have this conversation with them?" she asked her brother. Bill looked over at her.

"No," Bill said. (Sixer rolled his eyes; he didn’t particularly want to get into this topic of conversation, either. Lee always got so _unreasonable_ about Carla. And he didn’t want to deal with the fallout either, it would likely drag on for _days_.) "You should stop," Bill added, and he didn’t look particularly happy with her at the moment.

Miz sighed. "I just don’t like tragic misunderstandings. They’re not funny."

"Miz," Bill said warningly. "Do you remember what I said to Stanley on the boat, that I didn’t want him to talk about? --Don’t repeat it out loud, just say yes, no, or maybe."

"Yes…" Miz nodded.

"Do you remember how I cast that ‘relaxant and garbled-words’ spell on you later?" Bill asked her next.

"Yes." Miz pouted but she knew what Bill meant.

"GOOD." Bill eyed her carefully, as he slid over sideways to be walking right next to her side. "Do you, or _don’t_ you, think that _talking about Carla_ is related to what I _wanted you to stop talking about_ to any and all Pines twins, as _related_ to that?" he not-quite demanded out of her.

Miz thought about that for a moment.

\--And Bill was right there to get an arm around her waist and under her nearer arm’s elbow, when the spell hit her with a much harder ‘shove’ than she’d felt when first-cast.

Miz gasped and wobbled a little. Her eyes glazed for a bit before she blinked and regained her balance. "...thanks…" she said quietly. Looks like this misunderstanding was going to stay. Sad, but… maybe that’s just how it happens sometimes.

"This topic is pointless, and unhelpful," Bill said authoritatively. (Lee frowned at him slightly, because the demon looked tense, and… Sixer seemed to agree with what the demon had just said, but Lee wasn’t entirely sure that the _demon_ actually thought that himself.) "We are going to talk about something else, now."

...Except they didn’t. They walked down the hallway in relative silence for a bit, and Bill continued to help his little sister along, until she was able to right herself once again and walk on her own two feet. Lee hadn’t thought Bill would put a spell on his own sister, Miz looked a little confused as she blinked a lot and pressed a hand to her head.

Finally, they got to class and settled in the back of the room. The teacher didn’t mind, it was just a review class and she figured they were going to be going over notes together, the other students had grouped up among each other as well.

"So are there mermaids in Atlantis?" Sixer asked, as they pushed all their desks together.

Miz shrugged. "I don’t have to tell you." She didn’t sound like she was saying it to be mean, just stating facts.

Sixer frowned. "You’re telling Lee just about everything he wants to know."

"Well, Lee hasn’t pissed me off." Miz pointed out. "Frankly, you’re on your last chance with me already."

"What?" Sixer protested. She’d seemed fine with him last period! He’d answered all of her questions like she’d wanted him to, and she’d even told him he was _smart_ , not an idiot who she’d threatened to ignore! What could he have _possibly_ done between when the bell rang and now, during their hallway trip, to make her angry with him again _since_ then?

"You tried to peel off my scale and didn’t even think about how that made me feel, strike one. You called me stupid and lied in your apology to me, strike two. You also _still_ don’t see what’s wrong with being rude to people. I’m not as mad anymore, but you’re on your third try. If you somehow screw this up, I’m not helping you anymore." Miz warned him. ( _’Screw **what** up?’_ Sixer wondered.) "Heck, the older Ford managed to piss my brother off so much that brother stopped helping him." She sighed. "But he still has to, even if he doesn’t want to. The older Stan asked him to," she told him, and Sixer narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well, then," Sixer said almost snidely as he adjusted his glasses, and immediately thought three steps ahead to: "If you decide you don’t want to do anything for me in the future for whatever reason--" (because he was thinking of her as being completely unreasonable now, and thus likely to be so again to him in the future) "--Perhaps I should simply ask 'the older Stan' to intervene on my behalf as well and _make_ you--"

Lee was on his feet immediately as Sixer's words cut out, yelling frantically, " _LET HIM GO!!!_ "

Because Sixer's words had cut off because of the single hand Bill had completely wrapped around his throat from behind him.

Lee was standing there, shaking with adrenaline and fear, as he frantically looked down at them both where they were sitting, because _he didn't know what to do_. If he attacked the demon -- he knew how strong the demon was. Being able to toss Crampelter like that, to grab hold of him and lift him like that, to grab his hand and Crampelter to _not even be able to move_ \-- if he tried to rush him now, all the demon would have to do was _close his hand_ and Sixer's neck would be--

(The teacher wasn’t looking at them. _Nobody_ was looking at them. Why was nobody-- Oh god. Nobody could _see_ what was going on?! --That suit the demon was wearing under his clothes was visible and _glowing blue_. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no--)

" _Please_ ," Lee begged Bill, because he didn't know what else to do; the demon wasn't even looking at him, he was still looking at Sixer, at the back of his head, and nobody was gonna help, because they couldn’t even see or hear what was going _on_ , and-- " _Please_ let him go--"

" _ **Ṕ̠̻̯̯̱̣͌̇̉̀ͦ̚Ê҉̫Ṉ̺̥͍͙̬͚͆͋͊͑Ä͖̹̲̮̪́͛̆͑ͪL͔̖̦̭̙͚ͪŢͮ͌̍̚Y͋ͧͥ̈́ͪ҉̗͖̘̘̼̤̙**_ ," Bill intoned deeply, and--

... _the demon let go_. Not quickly, and not like he'd been paying attention to Lee in the slightest, but he _did_ let go. Though he'd done it more like--

Sixer, who had looked _surprised_ the entire time, let out a slight cough, and twisted around in his chair to face the demon head-on, his expression shifting to annoyance and outrage as he did, and--

...Lee didn't hear him say anything.

After a moment, Lee saw his brother turn away from Bill slightly and grasp at his throat, looking shocked, seeming to...

Bill was looking on at this with half-lidded eyes, and an utter lack of any expression on his face.

Lee shoved himself away from his desk abruptly and moved down to crouch in front of his brother.

Sixer was looking less shocked and more and more frustrated, as his mouth moved, hand still at his throat and...

...absolutely no sound came out.

Lee tugged Sixer's hand away from his throat, and brought up both hands to carefully check him. Sixer flinched away from his touch at first, but Lee didn't see any damage (thank whoever); Sixer's throat wasn't bleeding, and his neck wasn't bruised or anything. He looked... fine.

Lee raised his eyes up to his twin's face and… Sixer looked absolutely incensed, as he lifted his hand back up to continue rubbing at his throat again. (And it was clear that _some_ thing was wrong.)

"You will not talk to my sister like that," was what Lee heard Bill say next, as smoothly as you please.

"...What did you do to him," Lee said slowly, not looking away from his brother.

"Oh," said Bill, in relaxed tones, "I just used a little of the neurotoxin I used on Crampelter to _DROP_ him, on 'Ford's throat to keep _him_ from TALKING anymore. After all," the demon said, "If he doesn't have anything other than not-nice and completely-UNTRUE things to say, and isn't going to _TRY_ to issue even a token apology to _my sister_ for it, after all that… _WHY LET HIM SAY **ANYTHING** AT ALL?_"

Lee swallowed. He turned to face the demon. "You didn't have to do that," he said slowly, carefully.

"Oh, I think I _DID_ ," Bill said next as he examined his nails. "After all," Bill continued, "Stanley wouldn't want me KILLING him, stuffing his still-warm DEAD BODY into my hat, and then yanking him out of it to _maybe_ resurrect him back to life at the boat later this afternoon, again. --That Stanford has had more than a few nightmares that he likes to toss at himself that are _just_ close enough to that sort of thing, that I'd have to spend more effort and energy later tonight keeping him from having them again, if I did THAT in front of him! Even if he only _heard_ about it later, he'd still…" Bill grimaced, then waved it off with an, "I'm not doing _that_."

Lee froze in place.

"Are you telling me that the two choices you were choosing between there were making it so my brother can't speak anymore, and _killing him?_ " Lee not quite squeaked out.

Bill caught his gaze and gave him a very long look.

"He called my sister _STUPID_ ," Bill said. He crossed one leg over the other and added, with an unsmiling face, "I would have killed him _THEN_ , on the spot, in the hallway BEFORE you dragged him off," (Lee went more than a little pale upon hearing this) "--But my sister -- like Stanley -- doesn't like to kill people who aren't trying to kill them first. So I deferred to her own feelings on this sort of thing _then_ , and I didn't kill him right away."

(Bill's low-lidded look became a slightly softer glare, and he gave his sister a slight smile, as Miz gave her brother an affectionate nuzzle for respecting her feelings. "Thanks brother." But once she’d stopped nuzzling him, his expression dropped almost immediately again.)

"--His behavior has NOT improved today since," Bill drawled out at the two younger Pines twins, resting his arm over the back of the chair he was sitting in, and propping his head up on his fist as he looked at Lee.

"Somebody calling somebody else stupid isn't worth killing somebody over," Lee said, placing a hand over the hand in his brother's lap. (Sixer was still clutching at his throat with one hand, while the other was clenched in his lap in a white-knuckled fist. He had his head bowed and was shaking in place, and Lee wasn't all that sure whether or not he was actually _scared_ … or just about ready to take a _swing_ at the killer demon who really was just _looking_ for an excuse to kill people, instead. His brother was crazy- _suicidal_ sometimes, Lee swore.)

"Miz is my little sister is a me-that-is-also-me and, generally, I've found that people who think that _I_ am stupid either try to take advantage of me, or _get in my way_ WITHOUT caring that that's what they're doing, sooner or later," Bill told Lee as if informing him of the facts of life. "I don't particularly feel like wasting my time dealing with _or_ handling any of that, when I can simply and easily solve the problem, by immediately killing them before they become any _more_ of a problem, instead. It's _far_ less work for me in the long run," Lee was told.

"You think killing your problems is okay," Lee confirmed flatly, and that was anything but good. He knew what that kind of thinking led to. Some stuff from history class just stuck with you...

"HA! --And _you_ have a problem with that!" Bill enthused out with a half-smile. "Unsurprising; Stanley does, too," Bill said next. "I wonder…" Bill dropped his fist and cocked his head at Lee slightly, thoroughly ignoring Lee's twin as Sixer slowly turned towards him. "Are you actually concerned with 'morality' like Sixer is, too?" he asked of Lee.

Lee shivered, because the demon didn’t mean his twin when he said 'Sixer', he was talking about-- so the demon meant that-- and _that_ meant the _older_ Sixer cared about this stuff. (Yeah, okay -- 'course he did, with the way he kept going off on both demons, right. ~~But it also said something even worse to Lee about how his twin was _right now_ , for having been left off of that demon's list.~~)

"...Maybe," Lee said carefully, hedging his bets. He wasn't certain where the demon was going with this, but the longer the demon kept talking, the less the demon seemed to be looking like he was gonna be _doing_ anything else that might--

"Hm," said the demon. "Then what do YOU consider to be better: dying _once_ , and that being that in terms of ‘punishment’; or being tortured over and over and over again forever and ever, because you just can't learn your lesson and do any better!" the demon said somewhat enthusiastically. (Lee stared at him.) "--The second one sounds a bit like your own definition of ‘hell’, doesn’t it?" Bill said, mock-lightly. "NOW," the demon continued, leaning forward and propping his head up on his fists, elbows on his knees, to **grin** at him now. "--Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good bit of _getting even_ just as much as the next demon, when someone has been _particularly_ annoying to me, _BUT_ ," Bill leaned back again, "As much as I enjoy the _cute_ little pun-and-callback I was able to make out of my name here in your **NOT** -so- _delightful_ little language, I am _not_ actually interested in spending every last _IOTA_ of MY time torturing every last tortured mind, body and soul, in all of existence that is ‘deserving’ of a little payback for their every last transgression against me! I have far better-worse things to do than to busy myself with _that_ ," he told Lee. "--Like I said, kid: it’s a _waste of my time_ ," Bill said.

"...Pun and callback?" Miz asked interestedly. She’d heard the first explanation Bill had given for his name on the rooftops a few nights ago, but this didn’t sound the same?

Bill glanced over at her and smiled almost indulgently.

"Bill Cipher," the demon said. "Ever heard of ‘Bill Zebub’ and ‘Lou Cipher’?" (Lee stared.) "Otherwise known to most humans as--"

"--Beelzebub and Lucifer," Miz not quite giggled out, suddenly getting the joke.

" _Baal_ -Lord of the Fliers and of the Heavenly Dwelling," Bill smiled, thinking of his ‘Nightmare Realm’ and the very worst-best he’d been able to make of it in the meantime, despite everything, "And the Morning-star, the shining one, Bringer of ‘Light’ to the _intelligent_ masses," Bill said cheerily with a smile, splaying a hand across his chest. "After all, who better to QUESTION EVERYTHING and fight a _stupid_ god, to eventually WIN and make all the unfair and _stupid_ things better and better, to break EVERYTHING that _needs_ to be broken in the very-WORST kind of way!" And he’d been cast down _pre-emptively_ almost, in his first search for something better, ascending higher (and higher and higher) in ~~(a frantic search for help)~~ a search for an answer to the question of--

Lee shivered as he listened to this. Because this demon was _literally_ calling himself not just a demon, but a combination of two names for the _Devil himself_ \--

\--and he was talking about _fighting a war against God_ and breaking… breaking _what?_ holy shit--

\--and the demon seemed freaking _happy_ about it. Holy shit. -- _Holy shit._ (Lee shivered again in place.)

(And he didn’t like the long, intense look his brother was tossing the demon’s way any better either…)

"I’ve met the types of demons who torture the souls of Sinners until they were deemed punished enough to be reincarnated," Miz mused as she tilted her head to the side. "I’m not big on that kinda thing myself. Torturing souls that is, I have gone for some punishments to the people who did things I didn’t like. Like those poaches who hurt Xanthar’s family." She wondered if that was good or bad? If she was punishing bad people? But it somehow didn’t make her uncomfortable when she punished people, the mere act of malicious intent that she had for them made her powers buzz happily. Well, she didn’t _kill_ the poachers! Just petrified them and left them in a museum. Miz glanced over at Sixer. "How long is this going to last?" she asked her brother, then paused. "Would Stan get mad?"

Bill let out a laugh. "This is a _penalty_ , and it keeps him from DYING, because it'll keep him from continuing to do the things he'd be doing next that would have me killing him!" Bill shrugged as he said, "Stanley will understand. --He'll probably say 'good job, kid!' for not killing him just now." Because if he'd said it for what had happened with that Stanford that morning at first, then he'd _definitely_ say it for this! (Hopefully without any of those STUPID ‘head-pats’ that he _didn’t_ like, this time.)

Lee pressed his lips together. Because, yeah, maybe it was better for Sixer to stop talking before he got himself killed, and the stuff he'd been saying was… awful. And Lee just didn't know how to handle what these demons had just said about his brother right now. They couldn’t… be _right_ , could they? Sixer didn’t like the idea of _killing_ people -- Sixer had been shocked about the Sibling Brothers, when he had shoved them off of that cliff and they’d sort of thought they might be dead at first, just like he had been -- and… that was a moral thing, right? To be worried about killing people?

Lee had known his brother didn’t think much of anything of the people around them. --But that was a hell of a far cry from the demon who’d freaking paralyzed his throat because he didn’t _like_ what he was _saying_ , whose only reason for **not** killing his twin had been ‘because it would annoy my sister and/or make her and Stanley _sad_ ’. (Seriously, you wanna talk about _no morality_ there, well--)

"You’re not gonna do anything _else_ bad to him, right…" Lee said slowly, and almost leadingly. "I mean, he’s gotta answer stuff in… I dunno, _writing_ now. What if he _writes stuff down_ that you don’t like?" Lee said flatly next, still pretty pissed off at the demon (and planning on bringing this shit up with the old-man him, who _couldn’t_ be okay with this junk!) but knowing that all he could do right _now_ was try and figure out where all the lines were, and help his brother stay within them, _at least_ until the end of the day, when they got back to the ship...

Bill thought about it for a moment. "...WELL," said the demon after a long moment. "I suppose I could just scoop him into my hat still-alive. --But he’d come out again without remembering anything in the meantime; no time will have passed for him," Bill told him, "And it would ruin Miz’s ‘mission that she chose to accept’ of making sure you both attended school each and every day while we’re here. --He won’t see or hear any of the rest of the lessons today!" He paused for a moment. "I could just _paralyze_ BOTH his HANDS, instead?" Bill offered good-naturedly (and an angry gleam in his eyes), as if granting them a boon.

Sixer shuddered in place, going dead white, and clenching his fists together. Lee went quiet, and didn’t look much better.

"He wouldn't have learned anything from this penalty if he went in the hat. And he needs his hands for class," Miz pointed out kindly. She really was too merciful, wasn't she. Miz was also trying to stay calm and hide her own feelings about Sixer's 'threat' since she didn't want Bill to get any angrier if he knew how upset she really was about it.

"Hm," said Bill. " _Well_." The demon clapped his hands together.. "Then perhaps little _‘Ford_ here had better _BEHAVE_ ," the demon told them, grinning at them both.

Sixer shivered again, staring straight forward. (He still looked like he wanted to try punching the demon in the face. Damnit, Sixer…) Lee put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Miz gave him a sad look. "Sorry. But this is better than dying, right? And you can take this time to think about what you did to upset Bill."

"AHAHA! Don’t make it _too hard_ on him, Miz!" Bill told her. "He is FAILING at being human right now! He needs a REMEDIAL course," Bill said next, leaning back in his chair, at his desk. "--Let’s play a little game here, shall we? Here’s a HINT! Analogies, word association, fill-in-the-blank -- _LET’S GO_ ," he told the brothers. " _I’m_ upset, because my little _sister_ is upset. My little _sister_ is upset, _because…?_ "

"Sixer called Miz stupid and then lied about being sorry about it," Lee said quietly, not liking this ‘game’ at all.

"DING DING DING!" Bill half-crowed out, grinning. " _Very_ good job! ONE of you two was actually LISTENING to her, earlier. --Really, little-’Lee’," Bill said, propping up his chin on a fist and smiling at him, "It’s a bit of a CHEAT to be _letting_ you sit alongside your _brother_ for a REMEDIAL course _YOU don’t need_ , isn’t it? --Especially when _you’re_ already operating on the _post_ -college equivalent class-level for THIS one!"

"He means you know how to be human." Miz told Lee simply. (And Lee _didn't_ like what that implied they thought about his brother.)

"Oh, _THIS_ one doesn’t _just_ ‘know how to **be** _human_ ', Miz," Bill corrected her. "No, THIS one knows ‘how to _interact_ with _PEOPLE_ ’, in general!" Bill grinned. "It’s _much_ more difficult to get it right across other intelligent species! But boy," he told Lee with a widening grin, "YOU’RE doing a BANG-UP JOB at it!"

Miz clapped quietly. "It’s official! You're a person!" she told Lee. "And you know how to talk to other people. --Your brother still needs to learn this." (Hell. If _this_ was supposed to be an ‘official’ evaluation from a couple of freaking _demons_... Lee _**really**_ didn't like what they were implying about his brother, now.)

"Sixer's a person--!" Lee protested.

"That ‘Ford," Bill pointed at him, "Is TERRIBLE at communicating to get anything that he wants." (Sixer clenched his jaw, not liking the reminder about what had happened at the science fair, and what his pa had said, and now with Miz--) "He can’t even communicate in a way that keeps him from getting himself nearly _KILLED_ , or otherwise _maimed_ , for angering _not one_ , but TWO someones who he KNOWS could AND ARE both _perfectly_ capable of killing him ON A _WHIM_ ," Bill blew off.

"Just because _you_ think killing is--" Lee started to say.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Bill said, shaking a finger at him. "Before you say ANYTHING ELSE, _tell me_ ," Bill intoned, and he looked _incredibly_ , scarily serious again. "How do you think _Crampelter_ would have reacted to little _‘Ford_ here, telling _HIM_ that HE was ‘stupid’ to his face?" Lee got quiet. "--And then _clearly_ LIED to him about being _‘SORRY’_ about it next, LATER, _after_ he’d had a chance to really THINK about it? --Go on, _I’LL WAIT!_ " Bill told him almost cheerily, at the end.

...Damnit. Lee didn’t have anything to say to that. Hell, what _could_ he? ‘Crampelter isn’t a friend, but Miz kinda is, so that makes it okay?’ -- _That_ wasn’t gonna fly!

"Are you paying attention, little ‘Ford?" Or do we need to coach this all in _’history lesson’_ class terms, for you to _finally_ start _PAYING ATTENTION_ to what is RIGHT IN FRONT of you, that we have been literally _telling you TO YOUR FACE?_ " Bill drawled out, a bit more dryly, as he kept on staring down at Lee.

"Humans are social creatures. They only made it this far because they helped each other. Cared for and supported each other," Miz said gently. "Lee is very good at caring for his brother. But Sixer, for all his intelligence, can't even understand the basic fundamentals of socialization. Like a human infant in their early developmental phase. No self-actualization at all," she lectured. "I don't want to talk about the Id, Ego and Superego because Freud was wrong about many things, but perhaps you'd understand it better if I used those terms?" Miz tilted her head before looking over at Bill for his opinion.

"HAHA -- NO," said Bill. "You SEE, Miz, that’s _not_ quite right," the demon told his little sister. "It’s why I used the ‘Crampelter’ example just now. Little- _’Ford_ here," Bill gestured at him, " _Does_ know better than to say something like what he said to YOU, to _HIM_. --He knows how to treat someone he doesn’t like, who doesn’t like him, who could hurt him. What he _doesn’t_ know how to do," Bill said ponderously, as he leaned back in his chair, "Is how to act towards someone who he _thinks_ **should** like him, who he _wants_ to have like him, who could also hurt him. --His only experiences with THAT, up until now, have been his parents -- now on his ‘enemies’ list! -- and... his _twin_." Bill sent a short glance over Lee’s way (and Lee wasn’t liking this already). "And look how he treats _HIM_." (Lee tensed in place.) Bill glanced back up towards Lee’s twin. "Not like a _BROTHER_ at all, if you ask me." Bill’s eyes sharpened. "Because as far as I’M AWARE," Bill continued, a slight buzzing undertone entering his voice (that set Lee’s teeth on edge), "One does NOT treat a BROTHER _**WORSE**_ than they would treat _AN ENEMY_." (And Lee stared, feeling a little lightheaded and dizzy, at the way the demon was _glaring_ at his twin brother now.)

’What??’ Lee thought, as he tried to defend his brother. "Sixer doesn’t--"

"He's just been leeching off you, making you take care of him without _ever_ giving you anything back in exchange. He only knows how to take what he wants and then discard you once you’re no longer useful to him." Miz said sadly. "Which is a shame, you'd think someone of his intelligence would know how to be grateful to the person who helped and protected them. You've coddled him. It's nice that you love him and protect him, but he's gotten to relying on you instead of doing anything himself. And more than that, he doesn’t appreciate the things you do for him."

Lee glowed at her. "It’s not like that at all--!" Lee tried to say. Sixer didn’t rely on him for anything--!

"Sixer has no respect for you, or your feelings, or your love," Miz said simply. "After all, he has to be the best, the smartest, and you let him. Because you care about his feelings and don’t want to hurt them. But he doesn’t care about yours at all. He’s been calling you stupid for YEARS and…" Miz leaned forward to give Lee a firm look. "...you’re not. Please tell me that you at LEAST understand that now?"

Lee looked away from her and stayed silent. (Grades weren’t everything. And his twin _was_ smarter than him. And even if the teachers really _had_ been grading his stuff right, whenever he actually turned it in… the demon-dragon didn’t know what she was talking about. Neither of them did.)

"And because you wanted to spare Sixer’s delicate feelings," Miz continued, "You purposely stopped trying to do well in school. Because you’re afraid that you might do better than him, and make him angry at you--" (Lee stared at Miz in horror. How did she know about-- wait, no, that wasn’t right! Sixer had told him-- and he’d _read_ what Sixer had done! The teachers had only given Sixer a lower grade that time because they hadn’t _understood_ \--!!) "--just like he was when you did better than him all those years ago."

Miz saw Sixer’s frowning and outraged look. She turned to him and sighed. "You’re brilliant Sixer, you really are. But you’re not the only one allowed to be smart. Lee’s not at your level, but he’s intelligent too. But he purposely sabotaged himself for all these years because _you’re_ the smart one, and he didn’t want to take that from you."

(Miz had said this same thing before, when she’d been mad at Ford. Mad at him for not appreciating Stan’s brilliance for being able to do what he did: rebuild the portal, build a genetic scanner, get the stabilizers working--)

(It frustrated her, just as much as what was happening with Lee did. Stan was a very intelligent man, who put himself down constantly, who never considered himself to be halfway intelligent, who _still_ , in his own thoughts, referred to himself as stupid -- because that was what his brother had told him, for years and years and years until he’d internalized it. Until he’d believed it.)

(And Miz hated that fact with every fiber of her being.)

~~(And sure, it was hypocritical of her to think so when she, herself, constantly called herself stupid in her own head, but that was just her low self esteem and depresive thoughts talking. She knew that. She knew it was unhealthy as fuck, but for the life of her, she just couldn’t help it. Besides, no one was allowed to call her stupid except herself! She wouldn’t allow anyone else to call her that!)~~

Lee was looking away, not really wanting to hear this. It wasn't--

"But he can still learn, can't he?" Miz asked her brother. "If he's really so smart, he should be able to learn how to be a person?"

Bill hummed as stared at Sixer. "HMMMMMMM~" the older demon hummed out, bobbing his upper torso back and forth a bit. "Maybe if we let him try to answer a few of these questions, we can see just _how bad_ he is! And how much CATCH UP he'll need."

Sixer’s face was clearly an outraged expression of ‘But I can’t talk!’ which made Bill cackle. "Oh now, _really_ ," Bill said, putting his chin on his fists and leaning forward. "Are you really telling me that you can’t figure out any other way to communicate with others without speaking? --Your _twin_ told you one way how to do that, earlier!" Bill told him, then cocked his head at him. "Were you not paying ATTENTION to him?" (Sixer seethed.)

"WELL, _that’s_ fine!" Bill said, clapping his hands together. "Let’s have us a little ‘human sociology’ _pop quiz!_ " (‘Oh shit,’ thought Lee. How had they overheard--?!) "Don’t worry! You’ve had SEVENTEEN YEARS to _study up_ for _THIS_ one, so it should be a BREEZE! --We’ll even make it even- _EASIER_ for you than _that_ ," Bill practically purred out. "--This is _multiple choice!_ All questions can be answered with a ‘yes’, a ‘no’, a ‘maybe’, or an ‘I don’t know’! --READY?" Bill grinned out. "Question one! --Is it acceptable for someone to go about treating their own sibling WORSE than an _enemy?_ " And the two demons stared at Sixer unblinkingly for his response. (Lee bit his lip and tightened his hand over Sixer’s hands, hoping his idiot twin brother didn't do anything to get him maimed by the demons. ...C’mon, Sixer. Don’t be stupid here. Don’t go trying to tell off the demons...)

Sixer shook his head once; ‘no’.

"Good!" Bill clapped his hands. "Either you understand _this_ much, or you were actually PAYING ATTENTION to ME, earlier! WELL. Either way, that’s BETTER than I thought! Good job!" He grinned so wide it looked as if his face would split.

...And then, thank _somebody_ , the bell rang.

Bill looked up and over, the grin dropping off of his face, as if it’d never been there. "HM." The demon paused, then looked over at the two Pines. "WELL," he said, "We can pick this up LATER, I suppose." Then he smiled rather widely, showing teeth. "After all, you need to try to _keep up_ on your _non-_ REMEDIAL lessons, too!" Bill said brightly, practically kicking his own bag up into his hands, before shouldering it. (Bill also made a short gesture and eye-flick, that turned off the visual- and sound-altering tech he’d had his suit handling for him. It wasn’t as though he’d forgotten what Stanley had said about not wanting him casting spells on the school grounds.)

Miz reached over to ruffle Sixer's hair a little before taking his hand and squeezing gently. "I believe that you should be able to be a good person. It's not too late." She hoped at least.

Sixer frowned furiously, refusing to look at her, and yanked his hand away from her roughly.

Lee frowned at Miz, pulling his arm back closer in to him, then looked up at his brother.

"We’ll talk to the old guys at the boat," Lee told his twin under his breath. "Okay? They’ll fix this. _It’ll be okay._ We _just_ need to get through the school day with them," because Lee just bet that the demon-dragon wasn’t going to let them skip class to go there any earlier. "Okay?"

Sixer looked down at him with almost a glare. He didn’t look happy -- especially not with the way he was tossing his things into his backpack that roughly -- but...

Lee let out a breath, and slowly stood up.

And he and his brother slowly followed the two demons out of the classroom, to their next class.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Uuuugh teenage drama~!  
> Also, Miz has more patience than she knew, considering Sixer's behavior had been terrible and stayed terrible all day but she still tried to give him a chance to try and realize what he's doing wrong.
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Lee is no dummy, either. The demons are dangerous, and he's pretty used to keeping his brother alive and as un-bullied as possible by the point. And at this point, sometimes that involves trying to get his brother to actively avoid the rocks sometimes in the first place. Not that that always works out well… or that his twin always _listens_ to him, 'cause he doesn't...


	22. Chapter 90: The people of this town are an open book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Wishes and hopes, rash decisions and a much needed talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 103 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/46916656). It was first posted on Jul 15, 2019.

\---

Carla held back a groan when she saw Miz waiting by her locker again. At least this time it was the end of the day. Miz glanced up at her and sighed. "Do you have time to talk?" Carla almost wanted to say no and leave right then and there, but she noticed the somber look on the 'alien' girl's face and sighed before nodding. "Come on." Carla turned to find another empty classroom.

Once they were there, Miz sat down at a desk and slumped over. "Uuuugh… why're humans so complicated?" she complained. Carla raised an eyebrow. Miz turned her head to the side to lay on the table. "You know, I don't have any issue with the science project being broken. What I had a problem with was one of the twins being thrown out into the streets because of it," she said simply.

Carla rolled her eyes. "That's just a stupid rumor that isn't true, and you know it. They're staying with you and those two old guys." Was this girl really trying to play stupid mindgames with _her?_ \--To hell with that. She wasn't falling for it. She knew better than to let anyone get away with that, with her, now.

"They're only staying with us because we're here. They would have been alone otherwise. You know, in an alternative timeline, it was Stan who got disowned for Ford's broken project," Miz said next, making Carla frown.

"Right," said Carla, because apparently somebody had to get 'disowned' for whatever thing this girl wanted to talk about next. _Sure._ "So, what," Carla said, "Is this some kind of infinite branching timelines making new universes thing? That's just out of some dumb comic book," she brushed off.

"It isn't," Miz told her. "It's actually why we came here. Stan's grand-niece and -nephew went back in time to try and stop this whole thing. Well, it didn't stop the project from breaking but we did change who got kicked out." Miz sighed. "And even if he's an asshole, Sixer wouldn't have survived a week out on the streets by himself." She scowled. "Not that he would have been alone. Lee would have gladly dropped out of school just to take care of his brother."

"Yeah, well, Stan's an idiot. That sounds like something he might do, in your little imaginary 'what if' scenario you've got going on here." Stan's heart was in the right place, even if his head wasn't. Carla knew that. It was both admirable and stupid, not the least of which because Stanford would have _never_ done the same thing for him. It was one of the most frustrating things about the whole mess. (Carla didn't even bother addressing the rest of the girl’s made-up fantasy thing, there. In her experience, if she just let some stuff with other girls go without comment, they'd stop trying to mess with her after awhile.)

"It's not right that Stan has to get hurt because he loves his brother." Miz sighed.

Yeah, it wasn't right. But there wasn't anything Carla could do about it.

"Look," Carla said. "Let's say that that's actually a thing, yeah? It's not my problem," she told her.

Miz still looked pretty upset. Well, that wasn't Carla's problem either.

"Because whatever happened with Stanford's project _doesn't matter_ there," Carla told her. "In your little scenario here, either Stanford said or did something stupid that had him deserving to get thrown out of the house, or he didn't; fine, sure, whatever. --That's not on anybody but him and his family. It's _his_ screwed-up family that would be choosing to disown him for whatever stupid reason. That decision doesn't have to do with anybody else, and it isn't anybody else's callout," Carla told her. "And on top of that," Carla added, "You're saying that, what, either of them was gonna get thrown out, no matter what? --That's _definitely_ on their parents, then, and not on anybody else." Carla looked at her. "So why are you standing here talking to _me_ about it?"

"I needed to vent to someone. I can’t vent to my brother because he’d probably kill little Ford for making me upset about this whole thing," Miz said. "Also, Stan doesn't think you're stupid, in fact he got mad when Ford said you were. Though the older Ford said it was dumb of you for breaking up with Lee--. I'm sorry, I'm rambling, I probably shouldn't meddle. I'm just sad that the older Stan had to go through what he did. I'm sad that he got blamed for breaking his Ford's project. I'm sad about a lot of stuff. I’m sad that you and Stan had to suffer because of a stupid misunderstanding..."

Carla rolled her eyes. "That's not my problem." Whether someone would want to 'kill' someone because this new girl vented to family; whatever made-up stuff happened that this girl seemed stuck on for some reason; none of it. Stanley hadn't gotten blamed for Stanford's project breaking; Stanford had gotten exposed for the liar that he was… and to call what had happened between her and the Pines twins _just_ a misunderstanding _hardly_ covered it! But… what had happened, had happened; Carla felt she'd learned from it, and wasn't going to make the same stupid mistakes ever again. She was tired of even thinking much about it anymore; she was done with this, and done with them. She just wanted to move forward, move on from it, leave this stupid town behind her as she moved on to bigger and better things, and let everything just stay in the past where it belonged.

As far as Carla was concerned, she'd gotten her revenge: Stanford had been shown up by her (whether he realized it or not) and exposed (which he did), and Stanley… she'd told him what a blind, horrible boyfriend he had been in no uncertain terms, even if she'd left out the specifics that would have made her look like a fool (and the two of them looking like insensitive creeps that some people might even have suspected had _deliberately_ … well, they hadn't; if she'd talked more, asked more, been more straightforward in what she wanted and didn't want, she would have realized so very much sooner what was going on, and… she'd learned better, now). She'd gotten her revenge on them both; they'd deserved it; she was done, and it was enough. That was enough for her.

Miz let out a short bitter laugh. "Right, sorry. Well, thanks for listening. Good luck with college. I'm sorry you had to go through what you did. I was a little mad that you hurt Stan, but whatever, you did what you thought you had to. I'm not mad anymore, just sad." Miz rambled, sighing against the desk.

Carla was about to leave, but she paused at the door. "You heard Stanford tell his brother why he thinks I'm stupid? And Stanley defended me?" Carla couldn't believe that Stanley would get mad at Stanford for saying what he thought of everything; she had a pretty good idea of what Stanford would say to him, given what Stanford had said to _her_. And if Stanford told him _that_...

"Well, not really," Miz admitted. "But he did call you stupid and said you were unobservant, though he didn’t go into specifics, and Stanley… didn't agree with him, but I guess he didn't say it out loud, and I didn't catch everything that went through his head at that moment so I don't know how he fully feels." (Right, apparently the 'aliens' were supposed to be _mindreaders_ now, on top of some kind of 'illusionists'. Carla mentally rolled her eyes, but she didn't quite relax at this. Stanley had shoved her boyfriend's van off a _cliff_ for him dating her -- she knew it'd been him. He could be vindictive if he wanted to be. And she had no idea how angry he might get at _her_ for having confused him with his twin, or for thinking she'd been dating the both of them for awhile there. Because given Stanford's reaction to it...)

"Sixer called me stupid too, and maybe I am for still wanting to somehow help the two of them." Miz blinked away tears. "We were supposed to leave last week. But the older Stan wanted to stay and take care of the twins so they wouldn't be homeless, like he had been. He even had me forge the papers needed to have him listed as their guardian…" Miz held out a hand and materialized a copy of said papers before floating them over to Carla (who was staring, wide-eyed). "And I was all for helping those kids, but the longer I'm around Sixer, the more I want to just throw him in the ocean."

"Well, I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. Stanford's the idiot of the pair, no matter how smart he _seems_." Carla said as she blinked at the papers. Stanley Pines? Same name? She’d heard that they were relatives from out of town, but… She reached out to touch them, wondering how the girl was doing this, but yelped and pulled her hand back quickly when the papers seemed to crumple into dust when she finished her first read-through of them.

"--Seriously, _what do you want?!_ " Carla demanded from her -- because she was sick of being messed with, with-- with _stupid_ magic tricks!!

Miz slowly sat up. "What I want is a happy ending." (Carla frowned, not trusting what Miz might mean by that.) "But that's not going to happen. And it's not like I blame you or anything. I just wanted someone I could vent to. And as both thanks and an apology for upsetting you, here."

And Miz got up, walked over, lifted one of Carla's hands and handed Carla a small glowing orb the size of a fingernail. "One wish, pre-paid for already by you for listening to me vent. It's not a very strong wish, can't alter Reality with it, and it reads your intent rather than your words so… I dunno. Do what you want with it." Miz said. "So it works by…"

Carla wasn’t listening. She had already been looking down at the orb that Miz had just placed on her hand without warning and frowning about it. She’d tried to drop it, then give it back when that hadn’t worked, but without warning it seemed to shimmer and vanish into her hand. "--What the heck?" she said, cutting Miz off, then glaring at her. "Look, would you just _stop_ with all this crazy stuff!" (She had science class on a different day than the Pines twins this year; she was in the alternate advanced section, so all she really knew about them so far was what she’d seen in the hallway, seen in her math class with them, and what she’d heard about them as ‘alien’ rumors that she just didn’t believe.)

"Look, all I want is for you and those crazy Pines brothers to stop _bothering_ me!" Carla told her. "Stop talking to me, or about me behind my back, and just-- _just leave me alone!_ " she demanded of Miz. (Because, at this point, she felt like she could handle the twins on her own if she had to, but _this_ girl was ins--)

Miz felt the wish take hold and found herself teleported away from the room, reappearing beside Lee and Sixer as they walked back to the boat with Bill. Lee jumped.

"--Holy hell!" Lee gasped. "Don't DO that! --What the _heck!?_ " He'd wondered where she'd run off to, but… hey, if she wasn't near Sixer, then she couldn't get _more_ mad at him for things he couldn't be doing to her. Right?

Bill was giving Miz an annoyed look. "...What did you do?" Bill asked of her slowly, and rather suspiciously. Because he recognized that that had been a magic-based teleportation; no-one but he and she could do that sort of thing here (he'd checked for that already with his Eye, when he'd first been looking for Pine Tree and Shooting Star). And the fact that she seemed a little startled by it herself meant that… she hadn’t meant for that to happen. SUSPICIOUS. (Did he need to do something to--?)

Miz sighed. "Well, Carla wants nothing more to do with us. And I think that's fair, she's really stressed out." Miz wasn't too worried about Carla's Wish. Like she’d told Carla, it was minor, and reacted to Carla's intent. And Miz could feel how it had enacted itself from where she was standing now; it would just passively work to make it so that Carla wouldn't cross paths with Lee or Sixer outside of the classes they shared unless she wanted to. And--

Miz blinked as she realized that she herself was included on that list, too. It wasn’t just the twins. Well, fair. Miz wasn't going to hold that against the other girl. ...Though it did seem a little like overkill for the ‘not talking about her’ part. Miz had actually felt a little pressure working against her as she’d spoken about Carla just now; it had been a tad uncomfortable. But she wasn’t saying anything that Carla wasn’t okay with her telling people. (Carla had wanted Miz to leave her alone more strongly than not to not talk about her behind her back, so letting people know that she wanted to be left alone was allowed under the parameters of this particular Wish.)

("Carla?" Lee asked, glancing between the two demons, looking confused and worried at what Miz had said, while Sixer didn't seem to care either way. But both of the twins were ignored for the moment.)

"The teleportation was a one-time thing?" Bill asked her. At Miz’s nod, Bill gave Miz a long look, but let that part of it go for the moment, in terms of being on-guard to potential problems as a matter of his little sister’s safety and wellness-of-being. (He would check his suit’s readings later, to try and determine EXACTLY what had happened and why, though.) Miz seemed fine, and hadn’t been hurt by the physical displacement, so… he would wait until the end of the day to address that, instead of dropping everything to address the issue _right then_. (It would take him some time to decode the information; that part of his suit’s sensors and such were still rather experimental in nature, so he was going to have to do a lot of the brute-force analysis work himself… Paying attention to their surroundings was likely a better use of his time at that point, for the moment.)

"Did you do any magic on or near anyone that anyone else could see?" Bill asked his sister next. The latter shouldn’t be a problem when it came to what Stanley wanted -- not for Miz -- but that Stanford complained every time _he_ saw something. So if he wanted to potentially have to handle someone (read: _that Stanford_ ) who might end up complaining if they heard about it… then he’d need to _know_ what he’d need to be telling _that someone_ that they were being all idiotic about.

Miz wondered if giving someone a Wish counted as using magic on then without asking? She wasn't using magic ON them, though. Just giving them magic to use on themselves. It was totally different. It was more like a Blessing than actual magic anyway! Miz had even made sure that whatever wish Carla made wouldn't harm anyone. And Carla could turn off the avoidance effect whenever she wanted to actually talk to any of them.

"...Did you ask before doing any magic on someone first?" Bill asked, as if picking up on Miz's uncertainty.

Miz thought about it. "I gave her a minor wish and told her she could use it whenever she wanted for whatever she wanted, within reason, with limitations so that it couldn't be used to harm anyone, least of all me, you or the Stans. So is that a yes?"

Bill thought about it for a good long minute (in silence from the rest of the group, as Lee’s worry started to edge closer to panic, and he tried to exchange a glance with his angry-looking twin -- because as far as Lee was concerned, it was taking _waaaay_ too long for the older demon to answer Miz, and…)

(--Wait, what did it _mean_ that Miz _‘gave **Carla** ’_ a ‘minor’ _wish?!?_ )

"Did you explain the limitations, how it would work, and then give her a chance to say she didn’t want the wish? Bill asked her, finally. He was thinking of that Stanford’s major complaints about their Deal as he said it: that he hadn’t been fully-informed as to what it was and did, and had walked into it not knowing enough to make an ‘informed choice’ before making his decision.

"Well she kinda used it before I could explain everything?" Miz winced. "But she can stop the effects anytime she wants."

(Lee was glancing between the two demons even more worriedly now. He’d been trying to stay quiet most of the day, for the _rest_ of the day, so that he’d be able to talk up exactly what-all the two demons had done wrong to Sixer that day -- writing it down on paper wasn’t gonna be enough!! -- but this? This had Lee reflexively opening his mouth to ask--)

Bill frowned. "Stanley and that Stanford will not be pleased," Bill noted dourly. "Did you tell her how to stop the effects?" he asked her next. That had been something that had come up with Stanley in one of his discussions with him, after his Deals with Pine Tree and Sixer had been called off: that Sixer hadn’t known how to stop the Deal himself, and that he would have wanted to know that a _lot_ sooner than Pine Tree telling him about it, nearly thirty-one years later.

"Well I got teleported away by her wish before I could finish talking and I won't be able to go talk to her since she doesn't want me or the twins to bother her." Miz sighed. "--I didn't think she'd use it immediately!" she protested weakly. (Lee's back went up at that.)

"--What did Carla wish for?!" Lee asked Miz quickly. He’d been having trouble getting a word in edgewise, and he was starting to get _really_ worried what his old ex- might’ve wished for, if she was still angry at him ~~(or Sixer…)~~. --Could she have wanted him to get his car smashed, the same way that he’d smashed her new boyfriend’s van? ...Oh shit. What if she’d wished that the _Stan O’ War_ \--

Miz glanced over at Lee. "She just said that she wanted you two and me, to stop bothering her. Stop t-talking about her behind her back and just… leave her alone," Miz sighed.

Bill thought about this (as Lee pulled in a slow breath and let it out just as slowly and carefully, feeling like he’d somehow barely just _accidentally_ dodged a bullet that he hadn’t even seen coming his way).

"...HM." Bill looked over at her, having realized, "THIS is why Stanley wants me to talk through all of these sorts of things first, from now on, isn’t it. He probably thinks that I would back myself into a corner like that." Bill shook his head (silly Stanley! he was out of his old decaying dimension now, and his Deals had all worked out just fine anyway, to get him what he wanted, when it really came down to it). Bill tapped his chin, then ticked a finger towards Miz. "Humans ARE unpredictable like that, sometimes! --At least, they are when you don't do proper _research_ into them before deciding to go off _‘giving’_ them things, first." He gave her a halfway-amused look. "Do you want ME to talk to her for you, after you tell me what you would OTHERWISE be telling her? Or--"

"--Stay away from her," Lee said immediately, to the older demon who had _attacked_ his brother earlier that day for not liking something he’d _said_. Lee wasn’t _about_ to let the demon think it was okay to just… just… --Look, he saw what had happened to Crampelter, he’d been clenching his jaw and surviving the rest of the way through the day today after what this demon had just spent most of that time saying and doing to his brother, and… Lee wasn’t gonna wish this devil of a demon on _anybody_ , least of all his ex. Just because they weren’t dating anymore because he’d been a bad boyfriend didn’t mean--! It wasn’t-- Just...

Lee stared the demon down as Bill looked over at him for a long moment. He tried not to show exactly how nervous he really was, and--

\--Bill turned back to Miz and continued with what he was saying. "Or do you want to write it down and leave the note in her locker?" Bill asked of his little sister next, as if he had never been interrupted in the first place.

Miz rubbed her arm. "Yeah, I'm gonna keep that in mind next time. I guess I could leave a note."

Bill nodded once. "Good!"

_Next time??_ Lee stared. "--What did you do to Carla? _Details_ ," he demanded to know. (Hey, he hadn’t gotten squashed by the two of ‘em yet.)

Miz blinked. "I gave her one minor wish, paid in full as an apology for what Sixer put her through, and for her listening to me rant."

Lee stared at her. Miz ranted at _them_ all the time, and none of _them_ got any wishes for it. That meant that... it was really ‘just’ an apology _from Miz_ for what _Sixer_ (?!) had put Carla through. (He filed that back away in the back of his brain for now.)

"What the heck is a ‘minor’ wish," Lee repeated dully. From his experience, and what he’d read, ‘demons’ or ‘djinn’ or ‘genies’ that gave wishes ended up making them like ‘monkey paw’ wishes -- always screwed-up somehow, or with some kind of strings attached. (So what the heck would ‘stop bothering her’, ‘stop talking about her behind her back’, and ‘leaving her alone’ look like to a demon like Miz ~~who thought his twin was some kind of a burden?!?~~ , exactly?)

"A Minor wish is a small effect that grants something simple that doesn’t rewrite reality or mess with time." Miz pouted. "I even made sure that it would be a wish that worked via Carla's intentions, rather than words, to prevent it from doing something she didn't want.

...Yeah, Lee didn’t exactly trust what Miz might think ‘small’ was; the demon-lady turned into a dragon on the daily like _breathing_. At Miz’s words on how her gift-wish worked on ‘intentions’, though, Lee felt a chill go down his spine.

"That ain’t right," Lee told her, "That’s even worse!" When she didn’t seem to get it, Lee told her, "Look, if you gave me a wish when I was angry with somebody, and I was feeling all angry, I might be _thinking_ about wanting to do something, but what if I didn’t actually decide to do it, ‘cause I calmed down and started thinking straight?! --That’s _dangerous!_ " Lee told her, "And really messed up! What if she wanted _us_ to _disappear_ , instead?" he demanded out of her. Would her wish have-- "What if you’d gotten her so angry that she wished we were never even _born?!_ "

Miz defended herself. "There were limitations to prevent her from wishing to hurt people or alter the timeline. And she can turn it off whenever she wants."

"Great," Lee complained. "So if she’d wanted us to fall off a cliff, we would’ve poofed there like you just poofed here?" Because popping out of nowhere midair wouldn’t kill them -- it was the fall that would. Freaking loopholes.

Miz sighed. "Carla just wants us to not bother her. You wouldn't have been hurt. The magic would shield you from damage." Miz shrugged. She didn't see what the problem was if no one got killed.

"Me and my brother wouldn’t have been hurt _falling to our deaths,_ if Carla wished us off the side of a cliff," Lee said slowly, staring at her. "This is what you are telling me."

Miz blinked. "The magic would shield you from damage," she repeated.

"Carla’s wish would’ve kept us from getting hurt. That is what you are tellin’ me," Lee said, crossing his arms. "Really." He was pretty sure that ‘not hurting them’ was _not_ real high on Carla’s list, given how she’d hurt him in dumping him like that already. (Maybe not _kill_ them, if she was actually deciding it, but if this wish thing was supposed to work on some kinda foofy not-really-all-that-thought-out feelings of ‘ _intent_ ’...)

Miz rolled her eyes. "Not Carla's part of the wish, my limitations built into the spell. I didn't want any wish she made to be able to hurt anyone, so it wouldn't."

"So, what, you gave her a ‘smart’ wish-spell?" Lee said. "How much magic do these wishes got in ‘em? Sounds like more than one wish there, to me." He didn’t like this at all. --Was the old-man him okay with her pullin’ this stuff? He bet the other Sixer wouldn’t be! This counted as tossing magic at people without asking, right?

Miz blinked. "Preset programs have automatic functions. And I WAS going to explain how it worked to her, I just didn't think she'd use it without even hearing me out first." She shuffled her feet.

"You gave her a thing that works on ‘intent’," Lee complained to her. "Don’t that mean that whatever she most wanted right then would set it off, right away, even if it was a really small thing?" he pointed out with ruthless logic.

Miz whined. "I didn't think of that right then. I was just feeling upset and…"

"Yeah?" Lee just bet she hadn’t been thinking. "Then maybe you shouldn’t be giving out wishes that can maybe hurt people if you didn’t think of whatever first, when you’re feelin’ upset!" Lee was feeling all out of sorts at this, almost as much as he was about his twin losing his voice -- except _this_ could’ve maybe killed them, without Miz even _trying_. "--And how does us not being able to talk about her _not_ make stuff different, anyway? Wouldn’t that ‘alter the timeline’ too?" he asked her next. (And heck, weren’t they all talking about Carla behind her back right then? Lee thought with a frown. How exactly was this thing supposed to actually work?) "What’s gonna happen to us for not following this wish-thing you gave her?" Lee asked out of her next. Were they gonna get hit with bad luck, now, for not following Carla’s wishes here, that they hadn’t even known about? Or something even worse?

"Well, it _feels_ more like Carla just doesn’t want us talking about her to other people." Miz shrugged. "And from what I can feel, it’s only supposed to make it more difficult to talk, like your mouth stutters through the words or something, rather than something more intense." Miz sighed. "And I already know I messed up so you don’t have to say it." Miz folded her arms. "So what should I do now?"

"Howabout you maybe listen to that older Sixer more," Lee said, frowning at her and feeling all off-put that she was even asking him. She hadn’t exactly been all that helpful _before_ , when Bill had attacked his twin -- she’d just _piled on_ on top of everything else instead. "He said no magicking people without asking, right?" (Then Lee looked over at Bill and flinched when he saw the sharp glare that the demon was giving him now.) Lee was starting to get an idea here of _why_ the older Sixer had such a problem with the demon-dragon, and not just the older demon, too.

"I wasn't magicking her. I just… wanted to help… but I messed up. I ALWAYS mess up… I can't help anyone…" Miz said miserably.

Bill’s glare got worse, and Lee winced, starting to sweat. _Great._ "--That’s not… _You_ said--" it was a spell, and... Ugh, this was so messed up. He wasn’t cut out for this. _She_ was the one who’d screwed up, not him! _He_ just didn’t want to be the one _dying_ if she did something like this again!

Okay. Okay. She was a girl, right? So just take a deep breath and treat her like a girl…

"Okay, so this was some other, not-magic thing. So wishes aren’t magic? --Do either of the older us’es know that?" Lee complained. "Because… I mean…"

(...And Bill went from glaring at Lee to frowning at him instead. Lee let out a breath. ...Yeah, he was _definitely_ gonna get the old-man him to add ‘no neurotoxin’ing people’ to _Bill’s_ list of ‘don’t do that’ too, for sure -- Bill _had_ to have one, ‘cause _killing people_ was apparently definitely on that list for the older devil-demon one of the pair -- _along with_ ‘no treating his twin like crap or worse’. _None_ of this stuff was okay!)

"Probably not." Miz sighed. "Wishes for me are more of a Weirdness-Blessing thing than Magic. It's similar, and most people would consider it magic, but in terms of the underlying energy type and function it's different. Blessings are like a Curse but with different effects, and it’s still something I’m working on, only realized I _could_ give Blessings a few centuries ago…"

"Yeah, I’m thinking you should maybe add ‘get an okay first for _anything_ kinda-magic-y-looking’ to the list of stuff, if maybe they haven’t yet," Lee said, scratching at the back of his head and feeling really uncomfortable as he said this. Because if something like that _wasn’t_ on whatever no-go list his old-man self had going with them already, then… how long had these demons actually been staying with their older selves, if _he’d_ run into this with them in less than a week?

"Can you do weird-blessing wishes, too?" Lee asked Bill, glancing over at him again. At the look that Bill gave him, Lee tried not to flinch and very uncomfortably turned back to Miz pretty quickly. "Yeah, uh-- you should probably at least ask ‘em if they even knew you could do wishes in the first place," Lee told the demon-dragon. Heck, he had thought demons were more into a ‘deal-making’ thing, himself; djinn and genies and stuff were supposed to be for wishes, right? And if their older selves didn’t know that...

"...I haven’t used much ‘weirdness’ myself since I’ve been back, for reasons; Stanley is not used to saying ‘no weirdness’ to me," Bill admitted after a long moment, glancing over at Miz. "He… may not have thought of it." Bill looked away. "That Stanford--" Bill’s expression got complicated, then smoothed away, and he said, "He’s never met anyone else, demon or human, who uses ‘weirdness’ like I do. He probably thinks that everything you do is either magic or innate," Bill told Miz, the realization only coming to him then.

Miz sighed. "Well, it wasn't straight Weirdness, it was a Blessing; it's mildly different. I'm still learning how different it is from straight Weirdness or Curses. And I’ve given Mabel a minor Wish before. She asked for a bouncy house." That was fun.

"Anything magic-looking, you gotta ask first," Lee repeated. None of this was gonna help if they kept making up new names for stuff to try and get out of whatever.

Miz nodded, while Bill glared at Lee. "-- _Don’t order my little sister around_ ," was Bill’s contribution to the discussion at that. Lee flinched, but tried to hold his ground -- not wanting to back down -- while Miz herself sighed.

"I really should tell Stan though," Miz noted. "If this still technically counts as magic-ish. I shouldn't hide it from him."

"Of course we’re going to talk to Stanley about it," Bill said. "You shouldn’t have to hide who or what you are; Stanley agrees. --But _DON’T_ talk to him when I’m not there!" Bill added, so he could intervene if Stanley asked for something unreasonable -- especially if that Stanford tried to get involved. (That got him eyed by both Lee and Sixer, though they had _very_ different expressions on their faces as they did it.)

Miz agreed as their group slowed down, as they neared, then began to approach the side of the boat. She wilted a little. "Might as well get this over with," she muttered before floating up. She spotted Stan and Ford on the deck, building… _something_ to add onto the boat. Miz cleared her throat.

"Stan, I tried to help someone and I messed up. I kinda used magic-ish stuff on them without asking and explaining it all to them beforehand. They set off the effect before I could. But it was still my fault for not thinking ahead," Miz said loudly before she bowed her head. "I'm sorry. I will accept my penalty."

"You _what?!_ " Ford said immediately, setting down the tool he was holding a bit roughly. " _What_ did you--!"

Bill finishing quickly clambering up onto the deck, looking annoyed that she’d gone up that quickly without him. (He was trying to keep the magic to a minimum still, especially with Miz’s latest potential ‘transgression’. --That meant not levitating upwards using his suit and climbing his way up instead, since that Stanford would label it levitation magic, and derail the argument -- if not make it even worse.)

"Ford..." Stan said warningly as Bill got himself up onto deck, a stormy expression on the kid’s face as he turned around and tossed the rope ladder over the side, while keeping his eyes on Ford. Ford grimaced and stopped at his bequest, and Stan waited for that before turning back to Miz. "Anybody get hurt or die?" was the first question Stan asked of her (which had Ford stiffening in place), while the younger twins finishing climbing up onto the deck themselves.

"No. I set a Rule that no one would get hurt or killed from this Wish effect." Miz answered.

Stan blinked. "Uh. Well." At least there was that. He set down his hammer and turned to give Miz his full attention. He figured he’d need to, for this. He wasn’t all that sure he’d gotten what she was trying to say here, yet. And how the hell did you not completely ask something beforehand? "Who did you use this Wish thing on, and what were you _trying_ to do?" Stan asked her next.

"Well I…" Miz struggled a little to speak, because between Bill’s spell from earlier now being in stronger force (now that she realized it was related, since it worked on the speaker’s own knowledge), and with Carla’s Wish now acting on top of that... "Spoke? To… her. Wanted to know… what happened, her side of--" Miz bit her lip. "I felt bad for her, what I… she was… I thought it would help…" (Stan frowned at this. He didn’t get why the dragon-lady was suddenly having trouble speaking to him.)

"You felt bad for _her_ ," Sixer said rather disparagingly. Stan glanced over at him with a frown. So did Lee, but in surprise instead. He hadn’t known his twin had cared that much about it. (Bill clenched his jaw. And Ford glanced between his younger self and Bill.)

"You... hurt her." Miz glared at Sixer. "And she cried for days--" One of Miz's eyes was twitching and she seemed to jerk slightly in place, as--

"--STOP," Bill said abruptly to Miz. She immediately shut her mouth and seemed to slump in place. Bill took in a slow breath next, looking annoyed.

Stan frowned at this. Ford was glancing between them all.

"...I didn’t mean to hurt her," Lee muttered, taking what Miz had said the wrong way, and looking away from them all as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

"This is stupid," Bill said flatly. "Stop talking about the--"

"--Perhaps we _should_ talk about it," Ford cut in abruptly, focused on Bill.

Bill crossed his arms and gave that Stanford a long, hard look straight-on. "Oh _yes_ ," he told ‘his Sixer’, as he turned towards him. "Let’s _talk_ about all sorts of _relationship problems_. You certainly like doing _that_ , DON’T YOU?" Bill said with a bit of a nasty smirk, taking a step towards him, like he was gearing up for something. "Like--"

"--Okay, _**no**_ ," Stan said quickly, getting to his feet, and physically getting between them. "You stop right there, kid." (Luckily, the kid quieted at this.) And Stan, having read between the lines, wasn’t just talking about wanting the demon to stop getting ready to tear Ford a new one. Stan realized now exactly who this 'she' they were all talking about was, because he remembered the whole ‘Carla thought he was Ford’ thing now, that _Miz_ seemed to think was a thing…

"Okay. Okay." Stan let out a soft, tired groan and rubbed a hand across his face. ...Yeah, if this was really a thing, then... Miz jumping in and talking to… Carla?... about stuff, was… Hell. She’d said she felt bad for her and wanted to help. So the dragon-lady must’ve decided for whatever reason that she wanted to make things better somehow, he bet, and then thought she could do it, except... (Well, that had never ended well for her, yet. Dragon-lady had a track record loss of 0 to… what, 4 now? 5? _More?_ )

"--We’re stopping right here," Stan said next. The dragon lady jumping into things had probably just made things worse, from the way she was actin’ right now. Probably messed things up again, not knowing what to do, and not talking about any of it to him first. Hell.

Ford sent his brother a _look_ , but Stan just shook his head in reply. _’Let it go, Ford.’_ He really didn’t want to get into this with either his younger or his… _less_ younger twin, here. (Freaking roll-back time dimensions. Seriously. Ten years younger, he swore.) He didn’t want Ford getting caught up in feeling who _knew_ what about this stuff, let alone Sixer. And this junk was all _way_ too fresh for Lee, too. ...And, truth be told, Stan didn’t want to have to find out whether Miz was actually right about any of it. Because if she _was_ … hell.

"Dragging this stuff up now ain’t gonna help anybody," Stan said to all of them. "Miz, for Pete’s sake, _stay out of it_. You two, stay away from Carla. I shouldn’t need to say this," Stan said to the younger twins. Ford, he’d already basically told to let it go by that _look_ he’d given him. Stan didn’t bother giving any instructions to Bill on it; it was pretty damn clear where the demon-kid fell on this one.

Miz hung her head. "Sorry…"

"She’s a freaking ex. You don’t go bugging exes who don’t want anything to do with you anymore -- and you sure as hell _don’t_ go bugging them about their breakups, either, _hell_ ," Stan said, directing the last at Miz. Stan shook his head, completely at a loss here.

"I wasn’t," Lee muttered. Sixer just let out a huff of breath, and it was pretty clear that he was mentally shrugging it off, not particularly interested in rehashing any of it himself. (The kid folded his arms in a way that would’ve made Stan want to laugh on any other day, because he _almost_ looked like Ford, doing it. And Ford didn’t even seem to notice this.)

Miz looked incredibly guilty. "I just wanted to hear her side of the story, because I wanted to understand what happened fully. Not just what I Saw--"

"--No," Stan said, cutting her off. "I _told_ you I didn’t want to get into it before. That doesn’t mean you go behind my back, bothering _her_ about it instead." She’d used to be human; she _should_ have known this stuff. "--Hell, if you couldn’t figure it out with your Eye thing," Stan glanced over at Bill, "Or by asking your brother about it--" and at the look Miz got on her face when Stan looked back at her, Stan stopped talking. And then he clenched his jaw for a moment. "...You didn’t freaking ask the demon who thinks he knows everything about all this stuff to explain it to you, first," Stan said flatly.

"Bill isn’t a reliable source--" Ford began harshly.

"--Not the point," Stan said, not looking away from Miz. "Miz. Did you even _think_ about talking to your brother about this stuff first, before bothering Carla about any of it. Yes or no."

Miz flinched. "...um…" She looked pretty flustered. And embarrassed. Freaking dammit. Stan let out a breath and closed his eyes, rubbing a hand across his face, then stopping again to breathe deeply. Right. Okay, then. Fine. _Fine_.

"Stan, you are about to set a very bad precedent here," Ford said warningly, having an idea of what his brother was about to say.

"’Precedent’, nothing," Stan said, dropping his hand. "The demons _should_ be talking to each other about all of their stuff; I’ve already been trying to get them to do that as much as possible." Hell, that was half the point of having them be siblings to each other. "The kid’s at least smart enough to know when something doesn’t fit real well," Stan told him. "They talk, they either get it, or they don’t. They don’t get it? --They come to me. It ain’t portal science, Ford," Stan complained at his brother.

"Stan--" Ford began with no small dread, feeling very worried and increasingly anxious and frustrated about this whole situation with his brother and what he was doing with the two demons… (because if Bill learned to _lie effectively_ again from the other demon, so that he couldn’t tell when Bill was lying to him again anymore…)

"--You want to argue about this? We can do it below deck," Stan told his brother next. "But right now--" Stan turned back to Miz. "There a _reason_ you went off doing magic-y wish-y things when we’ve been telling both you and your brother not to do that to people without gettin’ them to say yes and be okay with it, first?" Stan said to her, giving her a grumpy old-man stare.

"I was going to explain it all to her, she just set it off before I could." Miz responded, able to speak more freely now that it wasn’t directly about Carla and Stan’s relationship. "But it was my fault for handing it to her before I finished explaining, so I know I messed up. So…" she shuffled in place. "I will take the penalty for it."

Stan glowered at her. "Yeah, you’ll take a penalty for it, if you need one," Stan said, even though he saw Bill bristling, "And the kid will help me do it." That left the kid twitching still. "--But that ain’t what I asked you. I asked you for a reason, and that ain’t a _reason_ I’m hearing here," Stan told her, "Just an _excuse_. --So, what," Stan said. "You’re tellin’ me Carla said ‘yes’ to you before you explained?" That didn’t sound right; Carla was a pretty down-to-earth gal. Why would she go in for taking up some wish? "Or ‘no’? Or _anything?_ " (Lee rubbed the side of his arm, feeling uncomfortable at all this.)

"Well it was a Wish that would grant her intended wants. She… Um…" Miz looked uncomfortable as well. "She wanted me to stop bothering her… and the twins too."

"Did she know you were giving her a wish that worked like that?" Stan asked her, frowning. "Did she say ‘yes’ to this wish thing _before_ you explained?" Stan repeated. Wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that she still hadn’t actually answered his question

"--Miz said that she did not get a ‘yes’ from Carla first," Bill interjected, stepping forward and coming up next to her side. He was more used to the way Stanley did his questioning. Things repeated were going to be repeated until they were answered, or start a much larger and longer (generally unwelcome) discussion if not. "Wishes are closer to weirdness than magic for her," Bill said next, as he carefully lay a hand on her shoulder. "And she will write a note to leave in Carla’s locker explaining how to stop the wish if she wants to--"

"--It’s _still active?_ " Ford cut in, looking absolutely horrified.

Stan sighed. "Can’t you just stop whatever this wish thing is from here, without it bein’ a problem for anybody?" Stan asked Miz next.

"Well, her wish was that she doesn't want me to bother her. So…" Miz shrugged. "I can break through it if I pushed, but I don't know if I should." (" _Should?!_ " Ford repeated, looked _incensed_.) She paused. "It might have consequences if I tried to break it, when the Wish directly wants me to not bother her. I wanted to ask you first, since obviously, I don't know how to do things like this correctly."

"...Well, at least you’re askin’ me _now_ ," Stan said, though from his tone of voice it was pretty clear that she should’ve done that a hell of a lot sooner. Or, y’know, _dropped it in the first place_ like he’d _told_ her that he’d wanted her to. He shouldn’t have had to hammer it into her that she should leave Carla alone, either. He was pretty sure he’d made that clear before, not just that she shouldn’t talk to Ford about it. (...And what was she bringing up right in front of the two Ford’s here, now? Hell.) --Did he _really_ need to explain to her _why_ what she’d done without asking was just a big damn problem? (...Hell, maybe he did. If she hadn’t been doing the ‘ask the dead little sister first if that’s a good idea’ thing, then maybe he _should_...)

"Look," Stan said. "You can’t just go shovin’ things on random people that maybe they don’t want, and didn’t even ask for. That _never_ goes well." Stan frowned, trying to think of… yeah, okay. "When Sixer tried to yank a scale off’a you, that _wasn’t_ okay, right? ‘cause he was trying to take something from you without permission. --This is kinda the same thing," Stan told her. "You go off shoving something on somebody without them even knowing how to say ‘no’, or if they even _can_ say no to you, or get rid of it on their own without you tellin’ ‘em how? That’s a problem. You can ask your brother here for even more examples of _that_ one." Stan sent a quick glance over at the kid because, yeah, that whole Deal thing had been a mess and a half, Ford hadn’t know how to get rid of _that_ on his own until Dipper had stepped in.

Stan wasn’t just gonna stop there, though. "But here’s one for ya right now: if somebody had stuck a bunch of scales or horns _to_ you instead, and you couldn’t just shake ‘em off, _that’d_ be pretty messed up and not okay too, yeah? --And that’s kind of what you just did to Carla," Stan told the younger demon, "Almost exactly the same thing. You shoved something on her without asking, that she doesn't know how to shake off, that she’s all stuck with right now, that she probably don’t even know she _can_ say no to or get rid of. --So yeah, you should get rid of it," he told her, "Either you, or your big brother," Stan said next. "If it’s gonna be easier for him to do it. And if he can do it for you _without_ gettin’ on Carla’s case or anything about it."

"I can remove it without being anywhere near her," Bill said. "But I’m going to have to spend some time discussing the specifics with Miz, first."

"Fine," Stan said. "Go down into the hold, toss up one of those filters, and _do that_." Seriously, he was sick and tired of this shit. "And next time you think about shoving something on somebody first without asking, you think about how much you _didn’t_ like what Sixer tried to do to you, and whether or not you _really_ want to go off and be making somebody else feel the same way about _you_ , instead." Miz looked guilty. " --Bill, you remind her of this one, next time you catch her at it. Yeah? We’ll call that a penalty for _you_ for now, since you keep sayin’ you want to go off taking her ‘penalties’ on for her," Stan said, making that one clear for them all.

Bill gave him a nod, no complaints there (huh), then made his way over to the hatch. Miz hung her head in shame and walked off to the hatch as well.

Once the demons had disappeared belowdecks, Stan let out another sigh and rubbed his hand across his face again.

"Stanley--" Ford began.

"We are dropping this whole damn thing like one a’ those freaking biting gnomes and we're **not** talking about it again," Stan said rather heavily.

The older Sixer looked like he wanted to protest, but Lee himself nodded (feeling a little relieved) and walked over to slump up against the railings, feeling like a wrung-out used old holey dirty rag. Because between what Sixer might have said to insult Carla, and whatever else _he _might have done to make her break up with him that she might've left out of her original tirade… Lee didn't want to talk about any of this anymore, either. (He didn’t like the idea that she might’ve been _crying_ about it, about him…)__

____

____

"Look," Stan said to Ford, "These two are gonna be outta here after they graduate. They ain't gonna see Carla ever again. No reason to get into any of it, whatever ‘it’ is, when it ain't a thing, and doesn’t ever need to be one. Okay? Whole point of having a girl being an ex is to just _let things go_. Yeah?"

Ford glanced at the hatch the demons had gone down. He clenched his fists. "Bill doesn’t want Miz talking about it," he told Stanley under his breath, glancing back at him. "You _had_ to have seen that."

Stan stared at him. "Just ‘cause it’s something the kid don’t want, doesn’t mean it’s something that _we_ should do," he told Ford lowly. He knew what Ford was thinking of doing, and he wasn’t having any of it.

Ford made a frustrated sound. "But there must be a reason that he--"

"--Look, I don’t care what reasons _he’s_ got. _I_ don’t want to talk about it, _Lee_ doesn’t want to talk about it, _Sixer_ looks pissed off as hell about--" hell knew what either of the demons had said about this whole thing in front of _him_ about it, goddamnit. Stan shook his head. "--I don’t care what _the kid_ wants here on this one; we’re _dropping_ this, **now** ," Stan grumbled out. Hell. Why did Miz have to bring this up while Ford was here? Couldn’t she have at least waited to speak with him alone about this? Yeah, she hadn’t straight-up mentioned Carla’s name herself, but _still_!

Stan let out a breath. ...Hell. What was he even thinking here. He knew that Miz was trouble with a capital D for demon. But she acted like a human half the time, and… damnit, he’d started getting used to her trying to do everything he’d wanted, and not doing the stuff he’d told her he didn’t want her to do. -- _That_ was his problem, there. He’d assumed she’d keep trying to go along with things, if he told her something straight-out that he wanted, that he thought wasn’t gonna be unreasonable. But from the sounds of it, Miz had gone after Carla, talking at her and all, because the dragon-lady had been _curious_ about all the junk that _he_ **hadn’t** wanted to tell her. He’d been out, and she hadn’t thought of asking her big brother about _any_ of it, which meant that the only person she’d thought she could get a straight story out of had been…

...Hell. Maybe he should be counting his lucky stars that she’d gone to Carla first, instead of Ford. Damnit. ...She was as curious as one of those cats, too, wasn’t she. And _that_ meant that if he wanted to say anything like that in the future to her -- not to go asking after stuff from other people and leaving them alone when she was curious about something she didn’t understand -- and have a snowball’s chance in hell of her actually going along with it? He’d have to remember to explicitly tell her to go talk to her brother about it instead, maybe, and to come back to him if talking to the kid didn’t cover it, no matter how much he maybe didn’t want to talk about whatever himself -- not if he didn’t want her running off to other people and pulling this shit, again.

...Well, whatever. Live and learn. Stan let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. Eh, not like it’d turned into some huge disaster that’d ended up hurting Ford this time; he’d caught it in time this time. Sounded like the kid had even been trying to catch some of it _for_ him, at the end of it there. ...Which was a good sign, all things considered, since it meant the kid was learning and _trying_ to handle things for him before they became a problem for… himself, and maybe Stan too. (Yeah, he’d have to keep an eye on that, too. Not like Ford might not have a point there. He wasn’t all that sure that keeping Ford from mentally losing it as part of the extended agreement for the kids stretched nearly so far as covering something like this, with how he’d react to maybe finding out something bad about Carla that had to do with them both. So did _that_ mean...)

Stan frowned, then shook it off and turned to the younger twins. "Ya hungry?" he asked them both. Then he paused. Because he got nods out of them both, but Sixer usually spoke up at questions like that, and Sixer… hell, he hadn’t said anything at all about any of this junk, this whole time. Not even a question. "Sixer, there somethin’ specific you want to eat?" Stan tried next, and when Sixer opened, then closed, his mouth, and didn’t actually say anything...

Lee noticed Stan’s look and let a breath out slowly. _Finally_ , they could get to fixing this next! "--Bill did something to make him stop talking," Lee reported quickly (and stepped aside quickly as Ford jolted up to his feet and strode over to check over the younger Ford anxiously). "--Because Sixer was sayin’ things that made Miz mad today, and Bill got really mad _for_ her," Lee finished explaining. And Lee felt something inside him sink a little bit, when he saw how fast the old-man him’s expression just dropped. "Bill said that he was stopping Sixer from talking before he said something that would make him want to kill Sixer _even if you and Miz don’t want him killing people_ ," Lee added with an angry grimace, looking the old-man straight in the eye. "He said--"

"--Hold up," Stan interrupted his younger self for a moment, then took a moment himself to breathe. Because Bill had wanted to _kill--_ But Sixer was clearly breathing, and Lee wasn’t looking _that_ panicked, so Bill... hadn’t actually killed anybody there, then. Or brought them back after killing them, wasn’t like Stan didn’t remember the demons talking about that like it was some kind of a thing. "--Okay, step back a little. What happened?" Stan asked them next, trying to remain calm.

Lee rubbed his face. "Well, it started when my brother called Miz stupid…"

Stan stiffened immediately, but he didn’t interrupt his younger self as Lee kept on talking. He let Lee finish talking before he considered even saying a word. And when Lee was done…

Right. Yeah. He could kinda see how and why things had just gone straight on downhill from there. Stan slowly made his way over to the nearest chair (a beach chair up on the deck, not that far away), pulled it over a little closer -- though not much -- and sat down heavily in it with a sigh. He rubbed his hands across his face, as he told himself that it could’ve all been a _hell_ of a lot worse.

"...Yeah, okay. Guess the kid really _is_ getting better," Stan said finally, as he dropped his hands and sent a long look Ford’s way. "‘Cause it’s pretty good that Bill didn’t just straight-out kill him," for calling somebody he considers to be ‘himself’ _stupid_. Hell. Stan was pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t straight-up wasted Ford for it out on the porch? Was because Ford was part of his Zodiac. He’d gotten _that_ much outta some of the kid’s ranting about everything after the fact, and later. That the kid hadn’t done that to somebody who the kid basically considered to be _nothing_ to him? "That’s progress." He wasn’t all that happy at the kid for pulling any of that shit on this younger version of his twin, let alone whatever the hell Lee didn’t want to repeat word-for-word at him there, and whatever else Lee had tried to skip over that was ‘stupid about the whole thing’, but...

Lee gripped his brother's hand, trying to hide his shaking, because the fear was coming back now all over again, having to think about it, not just survive it until... "Bill said the only reason he didn't outright kill him was because it would make Miz upset."

Stan stilled at that, then let out a rough sigh. "Yeah, well. I’ll have a talk with Miz and the kid on all this shit later, but… you ain’t seen what the kid can do when he’s letting loose. We have. Believe me, it's progress that he’s holdin’ back on any stuff at all. The way the kid talks, I know he thinks he could do stuff like kill Sixer and maybe un-kill him later ‘if he had to’, and think _that’s_ all just fine and peachy." Ford stiffened at his side at that one. (...Yeah, Ford. I know.)

And Stan watched as one of the two teenagers looked at him like they thought he was joking, while the other one? Didn’t. And Stan waited.

And once Sixer realized he was dead-serious, and that Lee wasn’t smiling, and that the older him wasn’t looking anything but downright _grim_ either...

"Yeah," Stan told him. "You damn near got yourself killed today for insulting the wrong damn person. Congratulations, kid."

And now that he knew that he (finally) had Sixer’s attention... then, and only then, did Stan go on, proceeding to explain...

\---

When the demons came back up on deck, the two pairs of twins were in the cabin with the door open, and Stan was calmly making dinner. Ford was glaring silently at both of them, while Sixer was head-down, writing in a journal. Lee was watching them, too. The two demons walked over and into the cabin doorway, and stopped. Miz pulled down on the end of her shirt.

"Um… the wish is nullified," Miz said meekly.

Stan nodded. " _Good._ " He didn’t bother asking any more questions about the _how_ of that because, frankly, he didn’t care. What he _did_ care about was… "Now when is he--" Stan nodded in the direction of Sixer "--gettin’ his voice back?"

"When I feel like it," Bill said almost casually. "Also: four hours from now, until I hit him with the same neurotoxin again, and then eight hours from _then_ , when I have to get up in the middle of the night to go down into the hold and do it _again_ , and then--"

"--Kid," Stan said, holding up a hand, and Bill fell silent. "Think I get the gist of what _you_ think of this whole thing, here. You maybe wanna let your sister try tellin’ us all what _she_ wants here, for a sec?"

Bill looked annoyed at this, but after about a beat, he deliberately leaned back up against the doorway, seeming far more relaxed than he had been on entry.

Miz looked over at Sixer and sighed. "I would like for Sixer to stop saying things that make brother want to kill him." (Sixer rolled his eyes.) "--Look, I’m just saying, half the stuff you said was complete bullshit, and also very mean." Miz pouted at him. "Having mild prosopagnosia doesn’t mean someone’s stupid. It’s a cognitive disorder." She sounded a little defensive. "And aside from someone's social class or financial situation, there’s also autism, ADHD, and plenty of other neurodevelopmental disorders that plenty of people go undiagnosed with! They’re not stupid either! Their brains are just _literally built_ differently and the broken education system doesn’t know how to give them the care and attention they need to actually learn and succeed!" She huffed.

Stan blinked at this rant. Even Ford turned to her with a frown. "Wait, what?" Stan asked. What was she talking about? Lee hadn’t brought any of _this_ stuff up at all… _whatever_ the hell it was. He’d talked about Sixer not meaning to call Miz stupid (hell), and then answering questions to try and make Miz not mad with him again, and differences of opinion on how anybody should treat most people that Sixer got all wrong that made Miz want to talk to him even _less_...

"Every human’s brain works differently, Stanley," Bill said. "And some humans think that some are more different than others, but then they get all the things that actually _matter_ WRONG, so all the groupings are completely _idi_ \--"

"-- _Kid_ ," Stan cut in again. "One of you, define those things that you just said." Stan had never _heard_ of half that stuff before.

"--Sixer thinks that just because someone is bad a school work, that means they’re stupid!" Miz whined. "But that’s not true! And then I got reminded that Seb has ADHD, which is a disorder that makes it hard for him to physically sit still or focus on stuff because his brain doesn't function like most human brains, and he doesn’t realize he HAS it, and Seb wasn’t able to sit still or focus at school and everyone called him stupid, even though he wasn’t! And it just made me really upset because _his_ Ford always called him stupid and _that_ Ford--" she pointed at Sixer "--called _his_ Stan stupid and everyone else--" She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "And when I told Sixer that if he keeps being a jerk and thinkin’ that everyone other than him is _beneath_ him, that I’m not going to help him anymore, he said he would get you to _order_ me to help him even if I didn’t want to and--!"

"-- _Woah!_ " Stan said, sitting up about as straight as he could, because that had just gone from left field to 100 miles an hour in the opposite direction, _backwards_ , faster than he could blink. "Hold up a second! _What was that last thing you just said?!_ " There was _no way in hell_ that he’d heard that right, had he?

Bill placed a hand on Miz’s head and pet her until she calmed down, making that waterfall sound again. ...And then he kept on petting her even more, after that. He was staring at Stan rather than her the whole time though, eyes half-lidded and...

And Stan knew in that moment that no, he _hadn’t_ heard that wrong. Sixer had actually said that. (The hell? Had Sixer really--?! ...Yeah, goddamnit, _he had_ , Stan could tell just by looking over at him, and seeing the look on his face. And Lee had left _that_ goddamn ticking time bomb outta the equation entirely, his whole little ‘sanitized’ retelling of it. Stan clenched his jaw.) ...And now Stan was being tested again by the demons. (Hell, did they actually think this was even a question?)

"--I ain’t ordering you around in the first place," Stan told Miz firmly, just to make that clear from the start, for both her and her brother... and everyone else. (Hell, the kid _had_ to know that he wouldn’t try something like that on his sister. Right? -- _Suggestions_ , sure. Requests, _maybe_. But not frigging **orders** ; hell, he wasn’t _that_ stupid. He wasn’t gonna try that with the kid, let alone her.) "You’re telling me that Sixer -- that guy, over there -- actually said that he was going to ask _me_ to make _you_ do something that you **don’t** want to do. This is what you are telling me," Stan said coolly.

Miz looked miserable. She nodded. Stan pulled in a sharp breath.

" _Bill_ ," Stan said firmly, "Were you there for this whole thing?" A nod. "Is that what Sixer said to her?" A nod and a dark look. Goddamnit. _Goddamnit._ "--Kid, I want a damn _transcript_ of that whole thing. --Lee left a shit-ton of _everything_ out of what he told me earlier," Stan damn near snarled out, in full grumpy old-man ire. The others stared at him for it -- Ford stunned by the request, and Lee looking straight-out alarmed -- while Bill just retrieved his eyepatch from his pocket, ‘flipped’ it open into his hat, pulled out a stack of paper, waved it while making a ‘tsk’ing sound at it… and handed over exactly what he’d asked for, the sheets of paper now filled with inked-out words in actually-legible readable paper-printed font.

Stan took them from him.

And asked, "Page?" got "Thirteen," and immediately flipped it to--

"Stan--" Ford began.

" _I’m readin’_ ," Stan told his brother, adjusting his glasses unconsciously. (Lee stared at this, because upon being told this? The older Sixer just _shut up and let him do it_.) And Stan read what he had, right in front of him. And when he read up to, and then through, what Miz had just told him about...

Stan grimaced. And he looked up at the two demons.

Because now, Stan was put in the _very_ uncomfortable situation of being intensely _grateful_ that Bill had **not** killed the younger Ford right then and there. Because, shit. What the _fuck_ had Sixer been _thinking?_ ~~Hhe hadn’t been, that’s what.~~ \--Some things, you just didn’t fucking say about people, let alone _to_ their faces. ~~That had _clearly_ been a threat to begin with, and~~ Miz wasn’t his goddamn _slave!_ The hell?!

If _anybody_ had said something like _that_ to _him_ about anybody in his _own_ family, like what Sixer had just said about Miz--

Stan looked up at the younger demon. Yeah. He’d been about to read Bill the riot act, after going through shit with him. But _now_...

Damn it. Where _the hell_ was he even supposed to _start_ with this?

"--I can’t order you to do anything." Stan said to Miz simply, as he held onto those pages in front of him. "You know that, and I know that -- and we all know that we all know that, you and me and your brother and my brother, all of us," Stan added, gesturing at each of them with his handful of paper, just to cover his bases, "And you know that I won’t even try. Right? --We talk, that’s it." Frankly, the fact that Miz _chose_ to listen to him was all on her, and Stan was relieved that he didn’t have to lean on the kid _more_ than he did to get her to listen to him. (Hell, mostly he just had the kid leaning on her to _remember_ some of the stuff that she seemed to keep forgetting, that she seemed to agree with.) Stan didn’t understand why she seemed to value his opinion of her, all on her own, but as long as he could use that to help keep her from hurting the people he cared about, well, he wasn’t about to complain. But this, though… _this_ was...

"You don’t feel like I’ve been ordering you around, do ya?" Stan had to ask her next. Because he knew that the kid knew that even if he said something that the kid might think sounded like an order, it wasn’t one; kid could always talk to him about it, or say no. But he hadn’t had the same talk with Miz about it, start-to-finish, mostly because she’d seemed better at all the ‘human stuff’. And he’d been trying to be careful from the start with how he’d been talking to them both. But if he had this wrong, and Miz thought he _was_ ordering her around, and (in trying to help her brother out, if) she’d only been going along with pretty much everything so far _because_ she’d thought they were orders that she’d had to follow (for her brother’s sake)...

Miz shook her head. "I know you haven’t. You’re a good man," she said quietly.

Stan let out a breath of something like relief upon hearing that, because he could tell that she wasn’t lying. (Well, relief at the first part; not so much at the second. Not that he was gonna complain about any little bit of that right now.)

Stan turned to look at Sixer. "Look, I can’t order Miz around. I **don’t** order Miz around. That ain’t right ta do to _anybody_ , and I don’t know where the _hell_ you got the idea that I was, or that I _would_. --I just ask her nicely, talk things out with her so she gets all the whys and wherefores of the stuff, and then _she_ decides if she wants to do whatever the thing is that I’m _asking_ her to do, or not. And that’s it. That’s all. _Nobody’s_ **forcing** _anybody_ to do _anything_ they don’t want to do. And it’s the same thing with the other demon-kid, too," Stan told Lee and Sixer (and hey, probably Ford along with ‘em, because if _Sixer_ wasn’t getting it, then _who knew_ if his brother might’ve been misunderstanding something here about the arrangement he had with the demons here maybe, too).

Bill seemed pleased by Stan’s admission that he didn’t/couldn’t order his sister around. Miz was purring as she leaned against her brother, who was still petting her. Ford looked distinctly uncomfortable, and the teenagers…

...were staring at the older Stan. "Wait, so you…" Lee glanced between Stan and the demons. "You don’t control them?" Lee asked, starting to feel a little panicky all over again.

Stan rolled his eyes " _Hell_ no, I don’t control them. They’re free to do whatever the hell they want. I just explain what it _really_ ain’t a good idea for them to do, and why."

"Then why do they listen to you?" Lee asked. Sixer and Ford looked like they wanted to know the same thing.

"Because I talk to them like they’re _people_ ," Stan told them flat-out. "Y’know. _Because they’re people,_ " he ground out at them all. Ford twitched in place at this. (Yeah Ford, that’s all it is. Heck, Stan was 100% sure that part of the reason Miz seemed to get mad at Ford all the time was because he constantly talked to her like she wasn’t a person!)

Ford barely held back his almost-instinctive ‘Demons aren’t people!’ protest, but he did hold it back. (Not least of which because Bill almost certainly wasn’t… quite what he claimed himself to be. Given all that Ford had seen over the last week, what Ford knew about him now that he hadn’t known _because_ of what he hadn’t seen before, Ford was starting to realize that _maybe_...)

...That didn’t mean that Miz wasn’t a demon, or that Bill would listen to anyone other than himself and his own desires, though. And Ford pulled in a harsh breath at the thought.

Miz purred softly. "Because Stan is a good man, and I like him," she said simply. "He listens and helps." Ford was staring at her incredulously, before mentally shaking it all off as the very most blatant of lies. He knew well from his own experiences that there was no way a demon would just listen to someone because they thought they were _a good person_. --Frankly, they used that as an excuse to do the _opposite_ , the majority of the time. And she said that she _liked_ Stan? Why? Because he ‘listened’ to her and ‘helped’? Helped _with what?_ \--That made even less sense. Except... that part about listening and helping though… Ford wasn’t sure how to pick that one apart, other than to realize and note that it sounded similar to the ‘learning’ bit that Stan had with Bill as part of the four things he was ‘giving’ to Bill for being ‘a kid’. ...Which the other demon also looked like. ...And _that_ likely meant trouble for later, because the demon was clearly trying to play off of Stan’s and Bill’s own currently-going ‘game’...

~~(And the younger demon _must_ have some sort of ploy going on, because otherwise, her actions would make no sense for a demon. Frankly, they would be more in line with-- with-- with a _child_ trying to learn discipline from a _parent_ , while fumbling through the process of socialization in the very- _worst_ of ways-- but that would be absolutely _ridiculous_ \--!!)~~

"Stan," Ford tried, "You _cannot_ be taking Bill’s word over--"

"--Do _you_ think the kid’s lying?" Stan cut in, and Ford went quiet, looking angry and feeling severely uncomfortable.

...Yeah, well. Not like he couldn’t see where Ford was coming from. Might as well get into this right now, too. "Lee," Stan said, "Was Miz or Bill lyin’, when they told me about this _ordering_ around thing that they said that Sixer said?"

Lee grimaced. "No." He didn’t want to get into it... "--But Sixer didn't get to finish talking before Bill froze his throat! He didn’t get to say anything--"

"--Rate _he_ was goin’," Stan said waving the sheets of paper at him, "Pretty sure the kid was right about not standin’ to hear any more from him, without killing somebody."

Lee went quiet.

"Kid’s got a temper," Stan said next. "I don’t like it, but he’s tryin’ to find ways to not feel like he’s gotta go around killin’ people. --Yeah, you heard me," Stan said to Lee, "Feelin’ like he’s _gotta_. --What do you think the kid would’ve done if you’d all gotten back and I’d agreed with Sixer, instead?" Stan asked him. "--I wouldn’t, and I won’t, but I _also_ wouldn’t put up with that shit, if somebody tried to do it to _my_ brother, either. That’s some kinda slavery shit, right there," Stan said. "I don’t like that the kid went with making Sixer literally unable to talk, but the kid had the right idea overall," Stan had to admit (as much as he hated doing it) "He wanted Sixer to stop talking. Kid just don’t know how to do that yet without either killing whoever, or going overboard by freaking paralyzing them to make it a thing that they literally _can’t_ do, instead. --Yeah, I’ll be going through more stuff with him later, that’s less freaking murder-y scary. But the way I see it right now…" Stan looked down at the papers he was holding in front of him. "If I go readin’ through this, am I gonna think there was an easy way to make Sixer stop that shit, even for me? Or _you?_ " Because Lee sure hadn’t stopped him before he’d gotten to that point. "--And I _am_ gonna read through all of this," he warned Lee next, waving the transcript pages at him again. Stan didn’t want his younger self to try and bullshit him over this; that’d just make him madder, and probably piss off the kid too, all in one go.

Lee went a little pale, then looked away, looking frustrated.

...Yeah, Stan got it. But Lee wasn’t doing his brother _any_ favors, trying to cover for him like this. This just wasn’t gonna fly.

"Look," Stan said, leveling with his younger self -- really, all of them. "The demons are freaking dangerous. You don’t go poking them, unless you have to. That’s just some common damn sense. --You don’t have to talk to ‘em. You don’t have to be near ‘em. They’re goin’ to school with you to show that they can make it through the day without _murdering_ other people," Stan reminded them, "And to make sure you ain’t skipping right now, yeah. But you can just let ‘em watch you from across the room. You don’t gotta interact with them--"

"--They can’t even make it through a single day without acting like they’re not human!" Lee pointed out. "They’ve been to detention, they’ve been called down to the office. --You had to _come in_ to bail them outta stuff!" Lee pointed out. "You’ve gotta know that they lost that bet thing with you already!" he tried, grasping at just about anything that he could right now, because he was _seriously_ worried about his brother’s safety in school, now. (ANd he tried to ignore the long sharp look that the devil Bill was giving him right now…)

Stan frowned at him. "That ain’t the bet," Stan said. "The bet’s that the kid can make it a week without ending up suspended or expelled, really, and the teachers not hating him for something _he_ pulled. I don’t care if he acts ‘human’ or not, whatever the hell that means anyway," Stan waved off. "And that time I had to come in was pretty much all on Ford and Sixer, there." At least, that was what he’d gotten out of the kid and Ford both later. Damn if he hadn’t been surprised to hear about the kid shoving all that stuff outta the way and smashing the device; Miz would’ve been fine, just shredded her ‘vessel’ and had to make a new one, and the kid probably could’ve rode it out inside that suit of his, but the rest of the kids…

All Stan could think was that maybe the kid had felt responsible because Ford was ‘his’. (Hell, Stan was pretty sure that the kid might’ve actually been _playing along_ , however roughly, with Ford’s ‘lecture’ that day. ...Not that he was gonna try and tell _Ford_ that, anytime soon.)

"They’re screwing up our reputation at school!" Lee complained.

"We’re moving you outside the normal social ladder, to make your position unassailable, while leaving you able to interact with anyone else without consequence -- _you’re welcome_ ," was Bill’s laconic contribution to that.

Stan saw Lee whip his head around to look over at him, wide-eyed and confused, and Stan sighed heavily. "Lee," Stan said, "Nobody’s gonna care what you were and weren’t in high school, even a year from now. And if you ain’t learned that bein’ yourself is the best thing you can do by now, other than putting on a face and being _more_ yourself…" like he did with his Mr. Mystery act... "The point of this whole thing for _them_ ain’t that they need to learn how to ‘fit in’ and act like everyone else. I’m pretty sure the two of ‘em could put on a liar’s mask and do that, if they _really_ wanted to,’ Stan admitted, sending a silent apology Ford’s way as he watched his brother stiffen again in place. "But _that’s_ the kinda acting-thing that’ll just make people explode, sooner or later -- and the demons a _hell_ of a lot sooner and in pretty damn bad ways that _nobody_ and their dog is gonna like. It don’t feel good." Like lying constantly to family, pretending to be somebody he wasn’t, year after year after decade, after Ford had… "Nobody should have to do that and then _worry_ about it; not you, not Sixer, not the demons -- not anybody."

"--And don’t get me started about ‘worrying about what everybody else is gonna think’," Stan told Lee heavily, when he tried to interrupt. "'Everybody else’ don’t matter, unless you’re tryin’ to make a buck off of them, and if you’re havin’ problems with that, then you can just pick up and _move_ ," Stan told him. "You’ve _got_ the boat. _And_ your car. -- _They_ don't gotta play nice with anyone, they _choose_ to, or don’t. Same as you," Stan said, poking him in the chest lightly with the papers he was holding. "Just don’t go attacking or insulting the demons, and you’ll be fine. Hell," Stan said, tossing his arms out expansively, "Pretty sure that even if you insult ‘em, on accident, that they’ll leave ya be if you just apologize-- **really** ," he said next at Lee’s wince, then ran a hand down his face. "For fuck’s sake…" Stan muttered. " _Sixer_..."

"He _said_ sorry," Lee muttered out.

"And he didn’t mean it," Bill said yet again, like it was a bell toll of death. Even Ford winced at that.

"Ford, you wanna take over at the stove here," Stan said in descending tones, while giving Lee the eye. "I’m thinkin’ I’d better read this whole damn thing _now_ , rather than later," he said, flapping the transcript pages out in front of him again.

Lee winced, and Ford didn’t respond, other than to eye the ‘transcript’ like it was a poisonous snake, as he simply walked over to the stove, and took up Stan’s position at it, as Stan moved aside and then sat down at the galley table.

As Ford stirred at the food to keep it from burning, Stan read through the transcript, frown lines getting deeper and deeper as he made his way through all the -- yeah, they’d called it what it was -- _bullshit_ that Sixer had said to the demons. And the debate that Miz had tried to hold and-- Stan paused at the part when Miz revealed that Lee had gotten perfect scores on his homework. And stared down at the page...

While the adults were busy, the demons and the kids sat down on the wooden floor. Sixer was still scribbling his notebook, wondering with a miserable sort of anger _why_ everyone was so very against him on this.

Lee himself was hunched up, knees pulled up to his chest, and feeling half-petulant about life and everything in it. Because… how the hell was sticking up for his twin supposed to be a _bad_ thing, anyway? The fact that this old-man him seemed to think that it was, was just…!? --He _didn’t_ like the way the two older themselves fought with each other practically all of the time, either! Yelling and acting like-- It-- it just wasn’t-- wasn’t--

Lee hunched his shoulders in further.

Miz turned to Lee with a complicated expression. "I like you Lee, but, I don’t like your brother. I don’t hate him. I don’t even really dislike him. I just don’t like him," she said. (Lee hunched in on himself a little bit further.) "Which is a shame, I wanted to like him. I think he’s very cute. But it’s painful to like someone who’ll never like me back and doesn’t care about my feelings." She looked a little sad about that. "I’ve already liked too many people who didn’t care about my feelings." (‘Please, please stop talking to me,’ Lee thought, half-angrily, half-desperately to himself. He was _trying_ to follow the old-man him’s advice at this point, about not engaging the demons if he didn’t have to, not wanting to make anything worse.)

Miz turned to Stan. "Can you teach Sixer how to be better too? Like you’re doing with me?" she asked.

Stan blinked and looked up at her. He frowned, figuring there was a story there, but… yeah, he was in the middle of reading through all the junk they’d all been saying, so if ‘the story’ wasn’t _there_... then hey, it probably wasn’t all that important right then. "Not like Sixer ain’t listening to me so far on most of this stuff," Stan told her. "I ain’t gonna force him to do anything, though. Same as you." Stan stated as he looked back down at the transcript in front of him and turned to the next page. Hell. This was… a lot to take in.

Miz raised an eyebrow. "You could explain why he _should_ listen to you. Same as _me_ , too."

Stan let out a chuckle at that. "Pretty sure I already had that conversation with Sixer earlier," before he’d even known about the rest of this shit, "When I was explainin’ where you and your brother there fall on the ‘kill you for insulting them’ scale, but…" Stan shrugged. Sixer valued knowing stuff, and he listened to people who obviously knew more than he did on something, and guess who obviously knew more than Sixer did about this stuff? So… "If he tries doin’ something stupid again on my watch, though, then yeah. I’ll be more clear with him about it. Figure he’ll probably get there eventually, even without me tellin’ him, though." That said, Stan kept on reading.

Ford looked over his shoulder down at Stan, from where he was standing at the stove. "Stan--"

"--Ford, I ain’t tryin’ to throw _shade_ at you, or nothin’," Stan repeated, giving him a halfway-concerned, almost amused look. "I know you figured it out eventually." ...And Ford looked away from him, and looked like he was practically biting his tongue to keep from saying something there. Uh... Huh. That was… weird. Stan frowned a little at this.

Lee shifted a little closer to his twin at his side, on the floor. "Sixer, maybe just get some quick pointers from him on girls and girl-demons, or somethin’?" he told his twin quietly. "And, uh, I can listen in, too," Lee said as half a compromise. "Not like I didn’t have trouble with Carla, myself," he added, a little self-deprecatingly. Sixer sent him a sideways glance, and Lee (not really getting the look) just shrugged at him. Lee really hoped that Sixer would nod ‘yes’. Because Lee could really use the help at keeping Sixer outta trouble better with other girls too, not just Miz and Bill. --He was really hoping that the old-man him could set Sixer straight on a few things, but it would be more than enough if he could just convince Sixer to apologize and mean it to the demons. ...Or, y’know, keep him from _writing_ something that’d get him killed by an angry demon. Lee grimaced.

Stan nodded absently, as he turned another page. "Hey, I can talk about it like cryptid stuff or somethin’, if you two want." He glanced over at them. "‘How to talk to the alien-seeming Venus-girls…’" Stan told them with a put-up wide showman’s grin, moving his palm out across and in front of him, like he was visualizing some kinda wide-open vistas in front of him for them. (Lee, for his part, blushed slightly and his mouth dropped open a bit, just at the sheer blatant _hamminess_ of it.)

Miz giggled. "That might motivate him to want to learn." She tilted her head. "Number one, if a girl asks you how you feel about her clothes while she’s trying on something new, don’t answer insincerely, but be careful about how honest you are. It’ll save you a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, compliments 101," Stan said, "Don’t go opening your mouth and saying something, if you don’t know what to say. Bein’ confident is important," he told them, "But an ‘I don’t know’ usually works out a hell of a lot better for you with a girl than just guessing. So does asking questions about stuff, like askin’ what _she_ thinks or feels about whatever, instead." He turned another page, as he looked down at it. (...Hell, some of this ‘argument’ they’d had going there earlier today was kinda messed up. He was surprised that the kid hadn’t jumped in on any of this shit to correct any of ‘em, too; kid had hardly done that at all here, really.) "It ain’t that different from what you were doin’ out there with the photo booth there, y’know," he told the younger version of Ford. "Most people either want somethin’ you’ve got, want to be left alone, or want you to like ‘em. First one’s a selling situation, second one’s easy -- just leave ‘em alone -- and the third one’s pretty easy, too," Stan said. "Just don’t go takin’ advantage of that last one in all the wrong ways. ‘Like’ can turn into ‘don’t talk to me’ or ‘I wanna punch you in the face’ pretty quickly, if you ain’t payin’ attention."

"But that’s like chemistry," Sixer told Sixer, as he turned another page. "And you know how to do all that stuff already, too. --You don’t watch that beaker when it starts changin’ colors on ya? You’d better be ready for an explosion, or to shut off the gas to that flame and dump in a bunch of ‘apology’ salt next to shut down the rest of it." (Ford was staring at him now. ...Whatever, kid was doing chemistry stuff with Mabel over in the spaceship these days, so the stuff was on his mind a little more, lately. Not like it wasn’t easier to talk about relationships like they were chemistry, anyway.) "Shutting off the gas is not dumping more fuel on the fire." He tapped the page. "You doubled-down on the whole ‘stupid’ thing instead of backing off. And the ‘salt’ apology you used wasn’t salt, it was gasoline that you’d labeled wrong on purpose, and were trying to pass off as salt. --You get me?" Stan looked over at Sixer, who was frowning over at him now right back, head out of his journal finally.

"...And girls?" Lee said slowly, glancing between the old-man him and Sixer.

"Heh," Stan said. "Girls just…" Stan sighed. What could he tell his younger self that might actually help him out? All that pick-up artist stuff wasn’t exactly gonna help him; that’d just get him slapped sooner than later, and the point was to not act like a jerk, here. "There’s just some stuff that they really don’t like, that they’ll either yell at you for, or give you the cold shoulder on instead of straight-up telling you _before_ they get to the yelling. Almost none of ‘em will just punch you in the face like most guys for whatever and then just be over it. They like talkin’ and stuff, so just ask ‘em what they don’t like early on, and then stay away from that stuff; ‘nuff said. And they like apologies, _especially_ if you mean ‘em; _really_ not so much if you **don’t** and they find out about it," Stan said with a wince when he saw Miz’s expression drop at that.

…And at the partially glazed-over and half-bored look Sixer was already getting, Stan sighed and said, "Look, we can go over it. It’s fine, really. Girls are just guys who want you to notice stuff on your own a little better. It’s only the crazy ones who expect you to read their minds, sometimes. And it’s not like you wanna be around those," Stan told them with a shrug. "Most girls might get mad if they’re not looking so great and you ask ‘em what’s wrong; they might even tell you to figure it out yourself. But some of ‘em will actually tell you straight out, if you’re pretty clear about being sorry about makin’ ‘em mad or sad and actually wanting to know, ‘cause you want to not screw up the thing that you screwed up again, by not knowin’ what it was you did that they don’t like. Not like most girls are _tryin’_ to be a mystery to guys," Stan told them.

"Don’t _lie_ to me when you apologize next time." Miz pouted. "It just makes me upset. And other people would feel like that too." She looked down at her feet. "I know I’m not always the best at knowing when I hurt others, but I do feel bad when I realize it. So, when you _actually_ feel sorry for hurting my feelings, I’ll forgive you." (Ford eyed her for that one. Given his own interactions with said demon, he didn’t believe any of it for a second.)

Stan looked over at Sixer’s reaction to being told this, and…let out a tired sigh. Yeah, Stan was gonna have to have a talk with this younger Ford, wasn’t he. Hell, maybe have Ford talk to him, too. Because Ford obviously knew better now; shouldn’t he be able to explain stuff to his younger self better than _he_ could? (And hey, if his brother was able to learn to not be as much of an oblivious ass that much sooner…)

\---

Dinner was a quiet affair, not least of which because one of them couldn’t talk (Sixer), and another one was trying not to in order to not rile up his twin or instigate the demons (Lee). Miz kept giving Sixer glances, looking almost guilty for his predicament. Bill didn’t care one way or another as to his ‘predicament’; he was fully planning on continuing to give him the ‘silent treatment’ as long as they were there -- in other words, the ‘treatment’ to continue keeping him ‘silent’.

When the twins went down below deck for bed after that, Stan and Ford followed after them for their talk. Sixer’s voice had come back by then (and Miz had requested for her brother to hold off on freezing his voice until after he’d had a talk with Stan, and maybe even holding off until the next morning; Bill wasn’t thrilled at this, but he ‘put up’ with the request) and Sixer didn’t seem all that angry about his voice having been sealed. He was mostly just annoyed. Very, _very_ annoyed.

Up on deck, Miz was going back into the sandcastle. She’d gotten tired of moving all the blankets and pillows into and out of the castle every time, and part of her wanted a little more distance from the humans. Bill crawled in after her and sighed as he laid down. Miz snuggled up beside him and Bill pressed closer, appreciating her warmth.

"So when do you think Stan will want to go home?" Miz asked quietly. She’d been all for staying around here to watch over the younger set of twins, but now… especially after today... she kinda wanted to just leave and...

...well, not go home. She DID want to go home, she missed her friends dearly. But she didn’t want to leave her brother behind either. She could spend hundreds of years away from her friends and be just fine, distracted with all sorts of things as she explored and learned in the vast infinite multiverse. But here, where every day seemed to crawl by and she had long moments to just think to herself… she found herself missing home.

She missed nibbling on Xanthar’s soft, sweet emotions. She missed bantering with Teeth and Pyronica. She missed embarrassing Kryptos and watching him get flustered. She missed the quiet nights with Hectorgon or PaciFire where they’d just sit together and talk about their day. She missed Ammy’s endless questions about the world. She missed 8-Ball’s silly faces when he tried to cheer her up after a bad day. She missed performing a private concert with Keyhole and teaching him some songs too.

She didn’t want to feel like this, like she was ungrateful for having only her brother here. She didn’t want to think she was being even more selfish than usual. So she pushed it out of her mind and just basked in her brother’s cool temperature. He felt cool, but being around him made her feel warm inside. She tucked her head into the space between his arm and his chest. He moved, shifting slightly, to accommodate her.

"I don’t know how long Stanley will want to stay," Bill admitted. "But if I had to make an ‘educated guess’... more than the week for our bet to be over, but less than their date of graduation." Stanley had been putting too many things in place for the twins to be fine if they left abruptly, for him to be planning on staying much longer than… "Maybe two weeks at most. Stanley hasn’t said." Bill blinked sleepily. "Do you want to leave now?" he asked her directly.

Miz relaxed against her brother. "Sixer’s difficult. Once he stopped being in shock about being disowned, he’s just been..." She closed her eyes. "Was Stan’s brother, his real brother, like this too?"

Bill blinked, not quite understanding the question.

"That Stanford _is_ his brother," Bill told her. They’d both decided that so. He’d thought he’d told her this before. "That _other_ ‘Ford was just his twin," Bill told her.

"Ah, that’s what I meant. Sorry, still having trouble keeping that straight, they’re all named Ford, it’s… difficult for me." Miz pouted. Telling people apart was hard enough, much less dimensional counterparts of the same person! She needed a nickname for them.

Bill was a little concerned that his sister was having trouble keeping three dimensions straight; what would happen if she tried looking at closer to an infinite number of them? ...Well, she _had_ said that she’d found it hard to keep track of what was what _here_ , though, because she’d had no practice in her own dimensional set; because in hers, she’d only had one set to keep track of. So maybe she just needed more practice? It was almost-definitely why she had been so confused about the events that had happened here in this dimension so far, and how and why they’d happened, too! --But that was a problem for later. For NOW…

"That Stanford is Sixer is my six-fingered hand, and _he’s MINE_ ," Bill told her patiently. "Sixer is Stanley’s brother," Bill continued. "‘Ford is the other six-fingered Stanford, and Stanley’s twin. This ‘Ford that is HERE is a third six-fingered Stanford. He is _NOT_ Stanley’s twin, or Stanley’s brother," Bill told her.

"So… the young Ford here is Mini-Ford, your Sixer is Ford who is also Sixer, and Stanley’s real twin who is dead currently is…" Miz paused. "Fister?" she shuddered "That’s an awful nickname for his symbol…"

"Mini-’Fister’, if you insist on that nickname for ‘Ford," Bill corrected her. "And ‘Ford doesn’t have a symbol," Bill told her, not quite flatly. "He has not, and never will be, part of my Zodiac. _Never_." Bill refused. ...And then Bill’s stony-gazed look softened slightly into a thinking frown. "But yes," he told Miz, "If he ever was going to be on anyone’s Zodiac, his symbol would be a squeezed-closed-fist that never lets _ANYTHING_ escape its grasp, not EVER." He eyed her sidelong. "You will NOT add him to your own Zodiac," he told her straight-out. And if she _tried_...

Well. There was a REASON that he wasn’t planning on bringing him back to life while Miz was still around. He didn’t want to risk what might happen if ‘Ford tried to pressure her to… Or what ‘Ford would realize _might_ be a possibility (it wasn’t) if he managed to get in contact with other dimensional sets (he wouldn’t) with other Bills in them (he , Bill would SEE to that)--

Miz shivered. "I don’t want him. If Fister is anything like Mini…" She frowned. " _Is_ Fister like Mini?"

"Yes," Bill told her. "They are almost exactly the same," he told her, "Except ‘Ford was not the one kicked out of his home in his own home dimension; Stanley was."

"Then there is no way I’m ever going to let either of them in my Zodiac. Mini’s a jerk, and it sounds like Fister was a jerk too." Miz huffed.

"Yes, he is, and yes, he was," Bill said, of those two ‘Ford’s. "And that’s GOOD to hear, that you won’t do that _ever!_ \--You should remember that!" he told her, as he started patting her on the head. "Don’t forget it! **EVER.** "

Because as far as Bill was concerned, the very _last_ thing that any him-who-was-also-a-him needed, let alone should want -- whether they were in their right mind, or left mind, or sideways mind, or not -- was _that_ ‘Ford Pines on their Zodiac.

Frankly, he couldn’t IMAGINE a him-that-was-also-him who WOULD.

Making Deals with ‘Ford had been one thing, but having him as a _Zodiac?!?_ \--NO THANK YOU!! (As far as Bill was concerned, it was one of the ONLY things the stupid frilly lizard had EVER gotten right!)

Miz nodded. "I won’t let Fister or Mini in my Zodiac. Never ever. I don’t like them. I don’t want them."

"GOOD," Bill repeated, as he continued to pat her gently on the head. Miz purred softly. She was worried about her own zodiac now. She really, really hoped her own Ford wasn’t going to be anything like Mini. He was cute, sure, but he was also a Grade-F jerk. Miz was still holding out hope that maybe he could grow out of it, get better. She’d asked Stan about it, and maybe he could do something. But if he couldn’t… well, Miz still had time before her own zodiac all converged. She would stalk the Earth for Stanford Pines and make sure he didn’t grow up into a monster if she had to. ...and the other members of her zodiac too!

This thought in mind, Miz drifted off to sleep, nestled in her brother’s arms, safe and secure in his soft embrace.

\----

Tuesday morning rolled around, and Stan was making pancakes for breakfast again.

Stan let out a sigh at the routine they’d all already started to kind of fall into, and how maybe the younger twins had seemed to have maybe gotten a little _too_ used to it, already. He had never planned on staying forever, just long enough to help get the kids enough financial stability to make it through high school -- and enough food and shelter to last ‘em a decent chunk of time on top of that, in case the money all got stolen -- and between the ridiculous con they’d pulled using DragonMiz, along with all the money Stan made, the teenagers certainly had plenty of cash in their pockets, now. And those new additions that Miz had added onto the Stan O’ War for them weren’t nothing to sneeze at either. Neither were the ones that he and Ford had put together, too. And along with the rest of the general ‘renovations’...

Anyway, Stan had decided long-since that they would only spend the one full week here, and he’d been planning everything around that accordingly. One week would be enough time to finish out the kid’s ‘bet’, be long enough to settle their younger twin selves, give them enough time to fix up the boat and make enough money to tide the two of ‘em over for a couple more months at minimum, and make sure that all the paperwork at the school was done and handled for all of ‘em. And that included handling the pull-back of the demon-kids too, since it would be suspicious if they pulled the demon kids out of school without any explanation. And for the demon-kids, the explanation was that they were going back to being homeschooled again. He was going to hand off the paperwork to the office that morning, the demons would finish through the end of the day today (Tuesday), and that’d be the week; they’d come back to the boat for one last dinner together, and then they’d all go home again that night.

\---

Things were somewhat tense between the teenagers at school that day. Lee was still more than a little worried for his brother’s life and safety. At the very least, Sixer was keeping his mouth shut. ...Well, he still couldn’t speak. Bill had frozen his voice again this morning, just as a ‘safety precaution’, and neither of the older-thems had complained about it.

Miz, for her part, told the teachers that Sixer had temporarily lost his voice. Sixer kept instinctively raising his hand during class to answer but every time he did it, Miz would just reach over, entwine her fingers with his, and pull his hand right back down. "Let the other kids have a chance to answer," she told him every last time, in the same gentle-sounding tones.

Sixer wasn’t sure what to think of Miz at this point.

Miz had outright told him that she didn’t like him just yesterday. And she’d been so angry (and unreasonable) about everything, too, but... she was still willing to be around him? To touch him and hold his hand in the classroom, but not when they were out in the hallway? _Why?_ Was this just a girl thing? Where they made absolutely no sense? But even though it seemed like Miz had forgiven him, since she was being nice to him again, she had agreed to let Bill continue freezing his voice this morning! Where was the reason in that?! --Even after the older Stanley’s talk the night before, Sixer just didn’t understand...

With Sixer unable to talk that day, their classes actually went by almost smoothly. The demons did their thing, and... the rest of the school seemed sad to hear that they would be leaving. Miz sat with Mary during their Art class and chatted with her.

"So you’re leaving?" Mary asked sadly. "Do you still live around here? Can we still hang out?"

"Eh, we’re gonna be going back to another dimension," Miz shrugged as she sketched. "I could give you a communications device so we could keep in touch, but I don’t know if that would be safe." Miz glanced around. "The government might come after you," she warned.

Mary rolled her eyes. (So did Bill.) "If you don’t want to keep in touch, just say so. You don’t have to make up excuses," she said.

Miz pouted. Then she sighed. "Well… there’s a chat room I’m in. And, it exists outside of time. So I guess… if you can keep this on the down low, so that you don’t get captured and interrogated for having it…" She folded some paper down over itself, again and again before clasping her hands around it, covering the paper and squeezed. Then Miz opened her hands and handed Mary a small metallic object. It was almost flat, rectangular in shape and around the size of two quarters side by side. "Here. It’s not a full Com; it only has the chat room function, and it’s only hooked up to mine. You wouldn’t be the only human on the chat, either. I’ve got a friend, his handle is Student and he’s always online so even if I’m not on, you’d have someone to speak to." (Sixer was outright staring at the girls as he listened to this, jealousy gleaming in his eyes.)

Mary frowned as she turned the ‘thing’ she’d just been given around in her hands. "Ah… that was a neat trick but--"

And then Miz took it from her and placed it down on the table in front of her. "Right, turning it on." She placed her index finger in the middle of the rectangle. "Press and hold for three seconds--" Miz demonstrated, doing so herself, and the chip let out a soft ‘beep’ and then a holographic display screen appeared above it. Miz moved her hand away and a holographic keyboard materialized below the screen, next. "So you can read what people have written up here, and type in your comments with this." Miz explained. Mary’s jaw dropped open.

Sixer’s hands were twitching. But Bill was staring at him, eyes lidded low, just _daring_ him to try and make a grab for the device. (Which Lee noticed, and had him putting a warning and restraining hand over Sixer’s own.)

"If you want to turn it off, just press your finger to it for another three seconds," Miz explained to Mary next, who still looked rather gobsmacked. "It’s solar powered. So make sure to let it soak in some sunlight every few days," Miz continued. "See this bar down here?" Miz asked as she turned the chip over to reveal the bottom. "That’s your battery life. It’ll dull to black, square by square, as it runs out -- so just make sure you check on it." Miz told her. Mary was still staring. Surprisingly, no one else in class seemed to see the glowing holographic display.

"There’s a built in Perception Filter, too, so unless you’re really obvious about stuff when you’re using it, people shouldn’t notice that there’s anything strange about it. Or notice it at all," Miz explained. "It’s also keyed in to you and will only work for you -- and me, of course -- and there’s a protection effect to prevent it from being broken or opened up by curious people who might break it." Miz deliberately did not glance at Sixer as she said this, though Lee knew his brother understood the jab.

Bill reached out and touched a finger to it himself, carefully, assessing. The protections she’d put in place were already very robust, but... "Might want to just make it intangible to any person or animal that tries to touch it, or use a tool or cloth or anything-similar to pick it up or otherwise touch it, little sis," was Bill’s contribution to the idea of ‘safeing’ the device, as he slowly pulled his hand back. "Protection effects are all well and good, but making it hard to grab or touch tools to in the first place makes it that much harder to modify," Bill noted. "Keeps anyone with a set of sticky fingers from running off with it, too!"

"Good idea." Miz made some modifications and nodded at Mary. "Any questions for things I forgot to tell you?" Miz asked.

Mary stared at her (kinda?) friend. "This is amazing. You’re… really from the future, huh?" she said, almost reflectively.

Miz shrugged. "We weren’t lying about that. We’re from another dimension, which is an alternate future. Though I’m actually not from the same dimensional set as brother." Miz explained.

"Wait, what?" Lee asked as he set his own sketch aside, hands covered in charcoal dust. They were siblings, but they weren’t from the same…??

"Bill and I are actually dimensional counterparts. Like you and the older Stan," Miz said. "Bill is much older than me. And he’s a guy," she explained, as if that made any lick of sense, before turning back to Mary. "So yeah, this way we can keep in touch, just please don’t go getting yourself grabbed by the government or something."

Mary nodded, staring in awe at the holographic display. She placed her finger on the keyboard and tapped a few buttons, watching the words appear on the screen. "This is so cool!" she enthused. It was like… like having her own personal typewriter! --Only _better!_

Lee was glancing back and forth between Bill and Miz, while trying not to stare. They were… the same person? Like him and the older Stan? --Well, okay, not the _same_ obviously, but… Lee groaned. He wasn’t going to think about it. He just _wasn’t_ going to think about it. This was too messed up and weird. (Did the older-thems know this?)

Sixer really wanted to get his hands on that communications device that Miz had so easily handed over to someone so wholly undeserving of it. He felt it was really, truly unfair. --Why did Miz give one to some random girl and not _him?_ That girl wouldn’t even appreciate how amazing it was! She couldn’t _possibly!_

It was so infuriatingly unfair!

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Still holding out hope for that entitled little brat to realize what happens when people aren't going to give him what he wants anymore.
> 
> **My AN:**  
> ...no-one's holding their breath for the two demons to start acting like 'decent' human beings anytime soon, though -- they'd turn completely blue first! ;) ;) ;)


	23. Chapter 91: There is a way out of here for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> It never worked. It was always broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 104 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/47153083). It was first posted on Jul 22, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\-----

After school that day, the teenagers all walked back to the boat. Lee still couldn’t believe the demons were going to leave _tonight_ ; the old-man him had told them all that morning, practically sprung it on them out of the blue like it was a last-minute thing, no matter how the old man spun it, and... it didn't feel real, almost. Lee couldn't believe he’d only known them all for a little over a week. So much had happened since last Monday… --Heck, he could barely believe that they'd been going to school with the demons since last Wednesday and _survived_ them this long, knowing what he knew about them now, that the old-man him had told him and his twin about yesterday. Causing armageddons and leading killer maniac-gangs and all the rest of it. He was gonna breathe a _lot_ easier, once that devil-demon wasn't near his brother anymore, again.

(And hey, he'd even get his own damn name back finally. That would be something.)

Sixer was still asking Miz if he could have a Com as well. She’d told him ‘No’ the entire day, even as she swung their linked hands back and forth. Sixer was holding up a scrap of notebook paper with his ~~demands~~ questions on it. He was making silent huffs of frustration. [Why does _she_ get one but I don’t?]

"Because Mary’s my friend." Miz said simply. Sixer actually pulled his hand away from her to write, and then stomped his foot like a petulant child for emphasis as he shoved his next demanding question almost directly into her face. [So why can’t I have one?]

"Because you’re not my friend. You’re a child I’m caring for." Miz pointed out, as she gently pushed the piece of paper to the side. Sixer looked like he wanted to protest. "I don’t dislike you, and I care enough about you that I want to make sure you’re not starving out in the streets and sleeping on benches, but that’s just my own kindness," Miz added simply. "I enjoy hanging out with you so long as you aren’t being mean. But your personality is too difficult to deal with, and Lee’s a saint for putting up with you." Miz told him straight out. "I would try to put it in a gentler way, but I’m starting to think you wouldn’t understand unless I’m blunt about it. As I've said, your WIS is pretty low."

Sixer looked outraged. Miz patted his head. "Look, I’m hard on you because I think it might be possible for you to grow and become a better person. I think you have some sociopathic behavior, but mental disorder doesn’t make you a bad person. Everyone can still learn to be good. You can still _learn_ to _act_ nice. I have to believe that’s possible." Miz looked legitimately melancholy about it. "Because if you can’t, then you’ll probably end up dead. And that would be a waste of your potential." (Bill let out an odd low sort of chitter at this, rolling his eyes.)

Lee twitched. His brother wasn’t some kind of murdering lunatic, and he hated that the demons were talking down to Sixer and saying this kind of stuff to him like it was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, when it _wasn’t!_ He _wanted_ to defend Sixer, but throwing a punch wouldn’t get him anywhere here and he knew it, and he didn’t know how to tell the demons off either without getting into a yelling match with them that’d just make things that much worse for the both of them. So Lee clenched his fists and kept his big mouth shut. It was hard, though. This stuff was a hell of a lot worse than Crampelter just throwing rocks at them while calling them freakish and sweaty...

(’Just one more day,’ Lee told himself. ‘Less than that, even. Just a couple more hours...’ because the demons were supposed to be leaving with the older-thems tonight, not even waiting until the morning… ~~and had the old-man him decided that because of what had happened with the demons and them yesterday?~~ )

Sixer was breathing heavily, annoyed that Miz was saying all this about him while he couldn’t even properly defend himself. He pulled his hand away from hers to scribble out another message. Then he crossed out his words. Then he started writing _again_ , only to cross _those_ words out too-- He shook in frustration, unable to find the words to express what he wanted to say.

Miz could hear his angry screaming thoughts. She sighed. "I’m not being mean," she said, sounding like she was reacting to his angry body language more than the fact that she could hear all the things he was mentally _screaming_. "I’m trying to get you to reevaluate your lifestyle and behavior." She paused. And then she looked to be in thought. "I wonder if you need therapy? Like, a behavioral therapist?"

Sixer whipped his head around to glare at her openly, not looking _any_ happier at her assessment.

**(((AN: Note that this part of the fic is taking place in the spring of 1971, and Sixer actually has a really good reason to be up in arms here -- if not outright alarmed -- about possibly getting labeled with any kind of mental illness _at the time he was living in_. In the 1970’s and earlier, there was an even worse stigma in the U.S. over needing or receiving psychological help than there still is today in some places in the U.S. in the late 2010’s. (Forty years is a really long time, when it comes to the social and psychological sciences; we didn’t even have [CAT scans](http://www.imaginis.com/ct-scan/brief-history-of-ct) and [MRI machines](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raymond_Damadian) back then to let us properly scan the brain!) Most people who got _any_ kind of mental help back then were considered to have something truly _wrong_ with them by anyone and everyone else -- which is, of course, utter B.S. -- _Worse_ , it was also generally rather unsafe for anyone to undergo psychiatric diagnosis at the time (since the evaluatory process wasn’t by any means accurate, the threshold for getting forcibly committed to an asylum was rather low, and getting _out_ once committed could be darn near impossible). Beyond that, being committed to an ‘insane asylum’ or ‘loony bin’ (psychiatric hospital) at the time was still in many cases far worse than being sent to prison. Psychology has progressed a lot since then, among other things -- this includes more fair and accurate evaluatory measures in the modern-day era, not least of which because our scientific understanding of the brain has greatly improved due to having brain imaging techniques that actually work. ...If you’re interested in this stuff, we recommend reading up on the 1973 [Rosenhan experiment](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosenhan_experiment) to start with, and the 1887 Nellie Bly investigation before that.)))**

"I know I had to go to one when I was a kid. And I definitely need one now too! There’s nothing wrong with needing therapy. _I_ need therapy! I just don’t know how to find someone who can help me." Sixer twitched away from the demon for actually _admitting_ to that, and Miz sighed. "You’re brilliant Sixer, but you need help. And needing help doesn’t make you insane or any lesser than anyone else, though I guess humanity hasn’t realized how important mental health is in this time period." Miz scowled at that. Stupid people being all judgmental and making people think that they weren’t allowed to seek help without being treated like some exigent threat to society-- "And even if you don’t want a therapist, there are some books about human behavior that I’m sure you’d be able to read through to help yourself," she pointed out, which made Sixer look marginally less angry (though not by much), and definitely no less unhappy with her. "I don’t want you getting yourself hurt by making everyone dislike you. The only person who’s on your side right now is Lee, and it’s not fair to make him spend his life looking after you." Miz also thought the older Ford and Stan needed serious therapy for their respective traumas, but they were old and stubborn and probably wouldn’t agree to it.

Sixer rolled his eyes at the last of that. _He_ wasn’t the one being all clingy and suffocating -- It was Lee who kept clinging to him! It wasn't his fault that Lee refused to give him space. And that the demons seemed to think it was the other way around-- Sixer huffed out a breath and shook his head. _Clearly_ , they didn’t know him. (Perhaps they were mixing him up with his brother, as Carla McCorkle had, and _Lee_ was the one who needed to be committed instead, Sixer thought darkly. Lee’s suffocating clinginess _certainly_ couldn’t be healthy in _any_ respect...)

And it still wasn't fair that Miz wouldn't give him a cool gadget, when-- Sixer was snapped out of his thoughts by Miz ruffling his hair. "Besides, if I gave you a Com you'd try to take it apart and end up frying yourself or something. And then you'd be dead."

Lee shuddered at that. He couldn’t help it -- he remembered what had happened when his twin had messed with that anti-gravity thing that the older Sixer had shown them all during class. The look of concentration on Sixer’s face as he’d gone at it with a screwdriver. He remembered the look on the devil- _demon’s_ face too, right before Bill had whipped around and tossed those crazy black shard things at it faster than he’d been able to see them move, breaking the thing on purpose.

Yeah, he’d seen Bill’s face right before he’d done it; the demon had gone completely expressionless, almost white. He’d frozen in place for a split-second there, stopped right in the middle of everything that he’d been doing. The scary crazy-ass murderous _demon_ had looked almost _scared_ , as he’d whipped around and--

Lee remembered how everyone had started falling immediately too, after Bill had broken it. How Bill had caught Miz with a huge amount of those little shards, even as he’d hit the deck himself -- and how Miz had caught them all while Bill had used the rest of those shard-arm things to shove the desks out of the way so that no one could get all that hurt as they fell, as they all came back down. Yeah, Bill had broken it, but even the older Sixer had gone deathly pale when he’d realized what Sixer had been doing, messing with the thing that he’d been messing with. He hadn’t told the demon he was _wrong_ \-- he’d just told him to _let go of Sixer_ \-- and that spoke horrifying _volumes_ to Lee about that. Especially since the older Sixer had done anything _but_ offer to explain how it all worked after the fact to his younger self...

\--And what would have happened if the demons weren't there to help? Lee could just picture what kinda injuries could have occurred if the desks had fallen on people, or people had fallen on the chairs or desks, if somebody had hit their head or their neck just the right kinda worst-way wrong, or...

...yeah, maybe the older Sixer wouldn’t have been in the classroom in the first place if the demons hadn’t been there, but...

Lee let out a huff of breath, feeling sick and weird and wrong about the whole thing, not even sure what he _should_ think, other than that Sixer really _shouldn’t_ have gone around messing with dangerous weird stuff without knowing what he was doing, again. So yeah. Lee was _glad_ that Miz wasn’t going to give Sixer anything like that, that he could mess with and maybe hurt himself with, with no-one around to help him or stop him from doing that.

...Though, it wasn’t like Miz hadn’t given them anything crazy-new and weird like that at all before this. Lee found it kinda odd that Sixer was so gung-ho about this ‘limited’ Com thing, when he hadn’t even tried to take apart the washing machine and other gadgets Miz had built for them on the boat, yet. ...Probably because they were ‘just’ a washing machine, ‘just’ an air filtration unit for deep sea diving, and a bunch of other things that already kinda existed, even if the ones they had now probably worked really differently than the ones they could buy if they’d had the money to spare for them.

Lee frowned as he thought about this. It almost seemed like Sixer wasn’t interested in them _because_ they were ‘mundane’ things he’d thought that he’d seen before, despite that fact that Miz had clearly modified them with plenty of super-advanced tech and stuff. ...Well, if Sixer wasn’t going to take them apart and break them on his own because he wasn’t gonna think of it, Lee sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up to him and let his idiot brother know that maybe he _could_.

Finally, they’d all made it back to the boat, to a surprise -- the boat was at the end of the nearby pier, in the water.

Lee had panicked for a moment at the empty beach, stunned, but when he saw it on the water, he let out a breath in a rush. --He’d originally planned on trying to get it out to the water last Monday after school, pay a couple of the beach bums in dollars to help him haul it out by a couple of ropes attached to nets or something. Get it really floating out there with the high-tide. Make it a surprise for Sixer, showing it off later that night -- ‘cause hey, they were really getting that show on the water now! But with the demons and those other-thems showing up, and all the rest of it…

They slowly made their way down the pier, staring up at it, and Lee couldn’t help but blink at the new gangway plank and the down-anchor and… everything. It made him feel kinda… _weird_ , that they’d finished off so much stuff without him, down to the pain job on the hull, even. --Without _either_ of them.

The old-man Stan waved at them from above. "Hey-hey! Got yourselves a real house-boat now," he told them with a smile. "Paperwork’s in and in your names. All set for sailing when the school year’s out," he told them, as Sixer and Lee exchanged a look, and they each began single-filing their way up the gangway. "Paid up for the berth on this dock for ya for the next three months, and everything."

They climbed up to the deck, demons following behind them, and once Miz was up and onboard, she announced to all of them that she wanted to start on dinner. "I’ll make something for brother. And there will be extras if anyone else wants to claim some," she told Stan, while Ford finished up doing _something_ with some of the rope rigging off to the side.

The old man nodded. "Alright. I’ll make dinner for everyone else," he said to her, as per the usual thing they had going these days, as he followed her into the cabin.

Stan raised an eyebrow when he saw Miz pouring out some flour and water, though. "Are you trying to bake something?" Stan asked her, as he set up his own stuff in the galley for cooking.

Miz shook her head. "I’m making an eggless pasta! So Bill can get some noodles!" she kneaded the stuff together in a bowl.

Stan nodded at her absently. "Yeah, okay. Well, good luck with that," he told her, then paused for a moment. "Hey, maybe write down the recipe for me later?" he asked. (He didn’t really think the kid was gonna like the food equivalent of worms, but hey, who knew. Maybe he would?) Miz nodded.

After she finished kneading the dough, she washed, peeled, and cut up some eggplants to toss into a bowl. A bit of olive oil, plenty of white pepper powder, basil and some chopped nuts were put in for flavoring. She stirred it up to make sure everything was coated in the oil and seasoning, before scooping it out into a pan to begin cooking. The dough, which she had left to rest a little after kneading, was rolled out and (with just a bit of help from her tech suit) cut into long, thin noodles. Those were put into a pot of boiling water to cook, with some more olive oil and pepper sprinkled on to slightly flavor the noodles as they cooked.

Stan was making pasta too, though his was straight out of a box; he set a pot of his own down with water to boil, along with a pan simmering with a can of brown meat mixed in with some tomato sauce. Quick and easy.

Miz drained out the pasta and scooped out some onto a plate, along with some of the eggplant. "This is your plate!" she told Bill. He nodded as he checked it over with his sensors. Satisfied, he pronounced it "Mine," as he took it from her, and then softly petted Miz’s hair with his free hand and a "Good job, sis."

As Bill sat down with his own meal, Miz proceeded to hand Stan a notebook with the words [MizBill’s Magical Recipe List of Awesomeness] on it. Stan raised an eyebrow but flipped through it, and absently nodded at the entries as he glanced through them. He knew that Miz had been cooking lunch at school the past week, and here she had written down what all she’d been making that Bill had liked eating there, as well. Stan got a small rueful smile and placed a hand on Miz's head. "Thanks kid," he told her.

His own pasta was done pretty soon after that, and everyone settled down to eat. Miz claimed a plate of her own pasta as well as Stan's, easily eating both plates of food. She made a face at her own cooking's peppery taste but mixed it with Stan's meat sauce and hummed when that brought down the spiciness level. (Stan had to shake his head a little, half-stifling a chuckle at that. --Hey, he had to get his laughs when he got them, and that had been pretty amusing there, Miz and her pepper issues but trying it because of her big brother anyway.)

Ford stuck to Stan’s cooking, as usual, while Lee and Sixer both ended up with Stan’s pasta, too. (Sixer had taken one look at the eggplant and seemed to get more than a little turned off. Bill, on the other hand, made up for it by taking a _second_ helping.)

After dinner, Miz declared that she wanted to play a game of DDNMD -- and Sixer just _lit up_ at that -- but they both got shot down almost immediately as Ford ground out a "--No!" and...

...Bill having said "No," at the exact same time as Ford, too.

And while Bill and Ford were eyeing each other over that one, with very different looks on their faces (flat zeroed expression, and blinking then suspicious surprise, respectively), Stan spoke up himself.

"Yeah, _**no**_ ," Stan said, as he set down his fork, done with his meal. "We’re not doing that." At the look of outraged protest Sixer got on his face, Stan continued with, "Look, Sixer. I ain’t lettin you get the wrong idea about all this," he said, gesturing between Miz and Sixer with his fork. "Miz, you can play with the niblings once we get home, maybe the next day; Bill’s played a game or two with ‘em before, without Ford completely losing his shit over it. We’ll figure out stuff then. You shouldn’t have to wait too long," Stan told her. "I’m plannin’ on us going back later tonight, now that this school-bet with the kid is over, remember? It’ll be night there, too, so we’ll do it the next day after breakfast, or maybe after lunch. Dipper’s up for that stuff practically anytime. You think you can wait that long?"

Once he got a very-excited several nods out of Miz, Stan turned back to Sixer to address this whole thing with _him_ , next.

"I want you to remember this one, Sixer," Stan told him firmly. "Miz used to be a human girl, and she’s more than that. You insulted her before you really got to know her, and now she ain’t really wanting to speak with you anymore, let alone play with you. --You see her protesting at not gettin’ to play with you here?" Stan said, pointing it out straight-out for him. "She just wants to play that badly; she hardly cares who-with, as long as she thinks it’ll be fun. Even if I said, ‘yeah sure, go ahead and play Miz’, it’d take her maybe _two seconds_ for her to remember that you’re no fun to play with, for her, and then where would you be?" Stan said, then let that sink in. "Yeah," Stan said, as he saw Sixer starting to look frustrated and disgruntled all over again. "And it ain’t just me, saying you shouldn’t be playing here, either. It’s him too," Stan tossed a thumb at Ford, "And the kid," Stan added, pointing to Bill. "Can’t even apologize and mean it, and you’re thinking you want to play a _game_ with her? Where maybe she might be the one DM’ing the whole thing? --You don’t mess with the DM and think you’re gonna get away with it, Sixer," Stan reminded him warningly, as Sixer started to look distinctly uncomfortable at this. --Yeah, there was a reason that he and Stan had stopped trying to play that thing while either of them had still been mad at each other over anything. (Not that Stan was all into playing that nerdbot game, really, but he sure as hell knew the rules of it -- not that he’d admit it to nobody if he could help it. And it had only _really_ taken him twice before Sixer had learned _not_ to...)

Stan eyed Sixer. "So maybe you should remember and think about _this_ , next time you go off insulting a girl, or making her feel bad, and not thinking you’ve gotta apologize for it. Human girls ain’t ‘just’ human girls, Sixer," Stan told his younger twin, taking a sip of his drink, "Sometimes they’re demon girls, too. And sometimes they’re demon guys, and sometimes they’re even human guys, because why not," Stan continued on smoothly, "And sometimes they’re ‘just’ somebody that you’re really gonna want to play a DDNMD game with, except you just don’t _know_ that yet. --You go thinking people are stupid right off the bat until _they_ prove to _you_ they’re otherwise?" Stan said, "You’ll just be waitin’ and waitin’ around for a _really_ long time, missin’ out on a whole _huge_ number of those nerdbot games you love playin’ so much, that you _could’ve_ been playin’ and enjoying along with ‘em otherwise, except you’re just _adamant_ about wantin’ to keep on waitin’ for somebody ‘smart’ to come along and prove themselves to you _first_ before you’ll even think about treatin’ them like they might be a friend; and maybe nobody ever takes the effort to go off provin’ that to you ever, ‘cause they just don’t want to, and then you'll be lonely forever." Stan set his glass down, and looked Sixer right in the eyes.

"This ain’t grade school anymore, Sixer. You’re all gettin’ to be adults; somebody throws a rock at your head _now_ , you can damn well get them _arrested_ for it, you wanna go that route. Anything goes, except what you can’t get away with, and _everybody_ knows better by now than to try and get away with _that_ shit. People mostly get along, because it _works_ when you _do_ \-- even the mob knows that one, which is why they’re the _mob_ , and not a bunch of random people turning each other over to the cops on the daily. And the _best_ cons make _everybody_ walk away happy, and stay that way, too." Stan didn’t think he had to really get into that one with any of them; they should all know that by now after the thing they’d pulled off with the ‘dragon’ Miz had made. "--You don’t got nothin’ to prove to nobody, and nobody’s got _anything_ they’ve got to prove to you, stupid or smart or family or _nothin’_. Understand?"

Sixer sat very still where he was for several long moments, staring at Stan right back.

But then, finally, he nodded once, slowly, not looking away from Stan as he did it.

"Good," Stan said, letting out a sigh and slumping his shoulders a little bit. "Not like you’d all be able to roll up those characters and get to anything at all before havin’ to go to bed anyway, runnin’ the normal set of those rules and whatnot," Stan pointed out with another shrug, which had Sixer looking even more sour. "Figure you don’t need nobody to make something up for you to do for the rest of the night, so go down and do whatever in the hold. Yeah?" It wasn’t a question. "We’ll finish cleaning up, up here. Enjoy your last night without havin’ to do all your dishes yourself yet, or whatever. I made extra pasta and junk too, so you can heat that up in the morning if you don’t want to go with cereal or something instead," Stan shrugged off, as he slowly got himself to his feet, and picked up his own dishes.

Miz moved to help clean up dinner as well. Stan gave her a nod of acknowledgement as he stacked the plates.

Bill, for his part, moved off towards the bunks -- to clean them up and make them ready by stripping the beds of their current bedding to start with -- and opened the porthole windows to help air the boat’s cabin out along the way, to get rid of the ‘old man smell’ that Stanley always kept _‘joking’_ about. Bill had no idea if one or both of the other Pines would want to sleep in there that night, or stay below deck again, but with the slight swaying of the boat going on, he was thinking that they’d probably want to be sleeping in the breeze, just in case, that night. It was the easiest way to claim the vessel as their own again, after all!

\---

Ford stood up from his seat and made his way down below deck. He wanted to have a private talk with the younger twins before they set off for home, as strange and worrying as that concept was feeling these days…

It didn’t take him long to find them in the first belowdecks hold, where he found Sixer examining his broken project on a bench below several hung-up lantern lights, and Lee sitting rather farther away down the bench from him than beside him.

Ford winced. He had put off having _this_ particular conversation with them for good reason, but he knew he couldn’t leave before getting this at least partially settled. So he girded himself for something that he knew was going to feel painful, and he strode over to crouch beside the teenager. "So, what have you found out?"

[The inside’s _melted_.] Sixer wrote out in an open notebook. [That shouldn’t be possible!]

Lee kept looking over, then glancing way, not really getting involved for some reason. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, Ford realized with a frown.

Ford adjusted his glasses, and approached his younger (not-him?) self. "Especially not with the lack of friction," Ford noted, as he looked down at it. "Even _with_ the friction of a more normal rotating unit, it wouldn’t have been nearly enough to make it heat up _that_ much, yes?" Ford said next.

Sixer nodded. [But there’s-] Sixer put down the machine to huff as he wrote the rest of his statement. [-nothing I can find! It’s all--] He grit his teeth in frustration.

Ford frowned as he carefully looked over it. He hadn’t exactly taken a very good look at the insides of it when he’d retrieved it from the bottom of the dumpster, the previous Friday afternoon. "Mine was melted on the inside, as well. But mine… well, it certainly didn’t _explode_ ," Ford told him, feeling a little disturbed at the very thought. "It was already broken when I showed it to the examiners."

...So _something_ must have changed, with their arrival here. The only thing Ford could think of was that Lee might have done something still, broken the project the night before somehow, by accident? He had never really gotten to ask Stan about what had really gone down that night... or perhaps that afternoon right before it. And, even after Stan had gotten his memories back later, after the memory gun ~~and after _Bill_~~ \-- Ford simply couldn’t bring himself to do so. No, truth be told, he’d _wanted_ to simply let things lie, to let some things in the past simply _remain_ in the past, buried where he’d thought they should belong...

Sixer glanced over at him. [You mentioned that yours didn’t explode. What happened with yours?]

"Well, when the college admissions board examiners arrived, I…" Ford sat down on the nearest bench opposite of ‘Sixer’, and let out a sigh. "The curtain was up in front of my presentation," he admitted. "I don’t believe that I’d left it up like that the previous night." He left out that he’d gone to see this particular project himself; somehow, he had a bad feeling that placing himself at the scene of the crime not a few hours prior might _incriminate_ himself in some way. ~~Especially when he couldn’t say that he _hadn’t_ felt the urge to break it as he’d been staring at it, when he _had_...~~

Ford shook his head. "In any event, when I pulled back the curtain, it wasn’t moving. The spinning had completely stopped, and it was…" Ford paused for a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply. He _hated_ that he still felt this way about it, so many years later. That he could close his eyes and still feel as though he was standing there, back then, and... "I admittedly panicked a bit. I tried to check it over at the time, to determine what exactly had gone wrong, but the admission board evaluators were having none of it, and…" Ford shook his head. "I spent the rest of the afternoon checking over it, and the area surrounding it, later. The project’s insides were melted. --I had thought that whatever had been done to cause it to malfunction had perhaps occurred the night before, leading it to slowly wind down over time, until it was dead in place by the following afternoon. But _yours_ malfunctioned during the _day_ \-- by your account, at the most inconvenient moment in time possible, in fact."

And _that_ was what made Ford think that there must have been a saboteur. It was almost theatrical for the project to suddenly and spontaneously break like that, with a _great_ deal of almost pyrotechnic fanfare _just_ as the younger-not-him had been showing it off to the examiners. Meaning… _what_ , exactly? That, perhaps, his own project had been already broken because… Stan had done _something_ , certainly -- he’d admitted as such without much reservation -- but perhaps Stan’s presence had caused the saboteur to change their own plan, somewhat? Break the project much farther ahead of time, instead of whatever they’d done to have it seem to simply break on its own, that much later? --But the _timing_ involved in that... _Ford_ wasn’t entirely certain that he could have caused such a cascading failure in his own project, knowing what he’d known at the time of physics, chemistry, thermodynamics, and the rest of it -- not even had he _meant_ to do so. And to, on top of all that, have _timed_ its failure to occur at such a critical moment in time? Ford would hesitate to call that ‘impossible’, but...

...None of this made any sense to Ford. And worst of all, he _knew_ that Bill knew what had happened. And the demon almost certainly _wasn’t_ going to talk. The insufferable--

\--And the _reason_ that Bill would stay quiet on all of this, instead of crowing out Ford’s failures like he usually did with great gusto and such biting and sarcastic aplomb, was because there was something about this project that Bill _didn't_ want him to know. To figure out. _Something about **his own damn project!**_ And that just made Ford want to know it, _whatever it was_ , all the more. ~~Damn him, it was like the blasted portal all over again! Except _this_ time, Bill _hadn’t_ helped him with this project -- not one damn bit. Which meant that his failure, in this regard, rested entirely and solely with--~~

Ford _knew_ that if he could just _somehow_ find out what Bill was hiding out of all of this, then he could-- he could--

...do _what?_ Stop Bill from doing something that Ford didn't even know what it was that the (not??-a-)demon was trying to do? Something that Bill had possibly, almost certainly, _already_ done and finished and been over with, given that he’d told Stan not to talk about the project _up until_ they were originally about to leave via the portal? ...That would somehow impact things horribly, once they were all home once again? (Assuming that Bill even _let them leave the dimension_ once more, to _go home_ \--)

Ford ran a hand over his face and let out a breath, feeling the looming blackness of despair.

\--No, damn him, Ford _wasn’t_ about to give up here. Ford lowered his hand and sat up straight, more firmly. He _wasn’t_ going to give up, damn him -- not least of which because, before being able to determine all of _that_ , he had to find out what had happened _here_ , first, and he knew it. And he knew where he needed to start in order to manage anything that might follow, next.

Ford reached for the machine. "May I take a look?" he asked. Sixer nodded, shifting over to let his older self pick up a piece, and peer inside.

\---

Miz went down after she finished cleaning and paused at the sight of the science project carefully taken apart, with the pieces spread out across the wooden boards of the lower deck, as both Fords carefully dug their way through it.

"...should I ask what’s going on or...?" she asked slowly. She certainly hadn’t expected to see _this_...

Ford didn’t even spare the time to glare at her -- they were going to be leaving later on _tonight_ , after all; he _didn’t_ have much time to figure this out. "No. Please go away," Ford told her simply and without any real venom; he was far too focused on looking through the pieces to use his usual antagonistic tone with her (or, for that matter, anyone else).

Upon being told this, Miz walked over to crouch down and tilt her head at the pieces. Ford bristled a little as she came up to his side -- _yet again_ acting contrary to his direct wishes in yet _another_ matter. But Miz didn’t say anything, just watching them -- and so neither did he, refusing to let the demon distract him, which would waste what little time he had left to try and solve this mystery before--

Lee, for his part, was staying the hell out of the way, unhappy about everything that had been going on today. Not to mention the fact that this? This was all _stupid_. Everything about this was stupid, because...

Miz frowned as she looked over the pieces, Flickering absently as she Looked over them all. The history of each piece, the Past that she could divine by reading the events that had led them up to this point. She sighed. There was nothing they’d be able to use to trace this back to Carla, not without an actual hint. They were searching for evidence, but there was none. Anything that could have indicated that there was something amiss had long since melted away.

But she wasn’t supposed to tell them. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. Miz stood back up, brushing off her knees and walking over to Lee. She considered it a bit before she decided that how upset he was about everything was more than enough to pay off what he would have owed her. Lee was ignoring her, trying to pretend she wasn’t there. Miz sighed. "You’ve paid off enough, emotionally speaking, to get the diving equipment. If you still want them."

Lee stirred, glancing up at her quickly before going back to curling around himself. "I don’t know." he mumbled. Miz wanted to give him a hug, but she figured he might not appreciate it. "Well, you can always buy it yourself. But I’ll still give you the general locations of a few wrecks. You’ve got around 10 years before someone else discovers the Gigantic. There’re also a few pirate ships sunken here and there, along with some planes, underwater mines and such. The ocean currents move stuff around, so I can’t give you the exact locations. You’ll have to find them yourself." Miz told him before handing him a small notebook, enchanted to be indestructible, unstealable and unreadable by anyone except Lee.

The teenager looked up at her. "...What do you mean, I’ve paid it off enough?" he asked her carefully, because she’d said yesterday that they needed to give her something in exchange for stuff. Miz thought about how to explain it. Well, blunt and to the point might be easier in this case. "You’re unhappy. I’ve caused you to be unhappy. That counts as payment, for me at least."

Ford glanced over at this. "Don’t accept anything from her," he warned.

Lee sighed and slumped a little in place. "She already gave us the washing machine and everythin’ else. If something bad was gonna happen from takin' stuff from her, it already would've." Hanging around her too much might have her talking nasty at Sixer too when that brother-demon of hers got mad, but… Lee looked down at the notebook Miz was holding out to him. Despite Ford’s disapproving look, Lee reached up. He paused right before taking it, though, as he realized that maybe the one difference might be… that she had said 'enough' straight-out for the diving stuff, but when it came to these locations... "So me bein’ unhappy is really enough to pay for this?" he asked her explicitly.

"It’s because I feel bad that _you_ feel bad and want to make you feel better. That counts. Plus, we’re gonna be leaving so this is my last chance to give this to you." Miz sighed.

Lee frowned. "So you’re bribing me to make yourself feel better?" at Miz’s nod, Lee snorted and took the notebook. "Yeah, okay. I can accept that." It was like an apology without outright sayin’ it. He couldn't really believe that she _meant_ it -- the demon-dragon had no real reason to care about _him_ \-- but if this was the only way to trick her karma-whatever thing into letting her do this stuff for whatever reason she _really_ wanted to do it, then yeah, sure, he could go along with that.

Miz nodded, bid them farewell for now, and headed back up.

As she got back up on deck, she paused for a ment and let out a sigh. They were finally leaving. She was… relieved, if still worried for Lee. There was a lot that she wanted to tell him, about pretty much everything. But maybe… she didn’t need to. It wasn’t her business, and she really needed to stop poking her angles up in everyone’s affairs. She might be the All Seeing Eye, but that didn’t mean she should try to mess with things. Even if she wanted to settle the misunderstanding between Carla and Lee, after talking with her brother about it, and getting the full story from him about everything to do with everything… even she had to admit that the two didn’t really to want to reconcile with each other. Emotions running high with hurt feelings and bitterness… Miz had never dated anyone before, she didn’t get why people in relationships would get so invested and hurt by break ups. In the romance shows she’s watched, the couple would have some emotional confrontation where they finally get off their hurt feelings and talk things out, getting back together after they resolve things...

...but that’s not how life was. That’s not how things worked. No matter how much she wanted it to.

So Miz finally let it go.

It was difficult, like tearing off a patch stitch by stitch, a struggle the whole way through as part of her wanted to cling on and keep pushing until things turned out the way she wanted, but Miz let go and closed her eyes as she started slowly dancing around on the deck of the boat, the cool winds from the ocean blowing gently through her hair.

_"[You would not believe your eyes~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psuRGfAaju4) If ten million fireflies~ Lit up the world as I fell asleep~"_ she sang quietly. _"Cause they'd fill the open air~ And leave teardrops everywhere~ You'd think me rude, but I would just stand and stare~"_ she felt herself relax, the agitation inside her settled as she let the music drift through the air. _"I'd like to make myself believe~ That planet Earth turns slowly~ It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep~ 'Cause everything is never as it seems~"_

It was fine. Even if there wasn’t a happy ending the way she wanted. It didn’t mean Lee or Carla couldn’t find a different happy ending. And even if they didn’t, it was still fine. Not every story needed a happy ending. Because sometimes that’s just how things went. And… maybe… it was fine that way.

Miz felt Stan and Bill moving around her on the deck as she danced. They didn't interrupt her as they did their own things -- hanging up the bedsheets to air out on clothesline and the like -- staying quiet and watching her until she finished. And once she felt calmer and done with her dancing, long after the song, Stan even gave her a smile and a, "Well, this song’s a lot nicer than some of your other ones."

"Pffth~" Miz snorted. "I have plenty of songs up in here." she tapped her head. "They’re some of the few things I’ve been able to keep from my first life." her smile was a little bittersweet. "They were all that kept me going at times. When I got really upset, I’d just sing to myself." both in Flatland and now. "I sing when I’m happy, I sing when I’m sad, I sing when I’m lonely and I sing when I’m mad~" she twirled a little before looking up at Stan. "We’re going back to your dimension, right?" she wanted to clarify.

Stan was a little quiet as he considered what Miz had said. Finally, he reached over to pat her head with a gruff, "Yeah kid. We’re headin’ back as soon as me and the kid are finished cleaning up everything."

Miz smiled up at him. "I can clean, you should go talk to the twins," she chirped before making her way over to examine on everything to double-check the machines and make sure everything was in proper working order.

Stan raised his eyebrows and watched her tidying up for a moment, before stopping and shaking his head a little bit -- none of what she was doing was something he could take for her instead, and the kid looked perfectly happy to leave her to it. So instead of trying to stop her or tell her that she didn't need to do what she was doing, he just threw the last of the bedsheets over the clothesline and slapped it a bit to straighten it out, before turning to the kid. "So, looks like you won the bet, kid," Stan started off with, to the kid's grin. "How’d you feel about going to school with Sixer and Lee and Ford?" he asked, having a heck of a time, keeping the old man expression on his face, and the amusement off of it.

Bill scoffed. "It was annoying." He folded his arms and looked away. Stan chuckled and then said next, "Yeah, kinda figured." He let the silence lay between them for about a beat or so, then spring the _real_ question on him, next: "How'd you feel about going to school with everybody else?"

And at that, Bill stilled in place. Then he let out another scoffing sound, and turned away from Stan a bit, folding his arms.

"It was… annoying," Bill said, with a lot more reserve, almost petulantly.

...Yeah, Stan knew what the kid meant by that. _Everything_ was just about a hundred different flavors of annoying, but by now Stan knew which was which.

So Stan let out a snort and ruffled Bill’s hair, grinning wider at his protest.

And after he was done with showing the kid he'd gotten the message, loud and clear, Stan told the two demon-kids, "Welp, I’m gonna go and talk with the kids." he turned and made his way down the hatch.

Bill most certainly _did not pout_ as he fixed up his hair and moved across the deck to go over and help out his sister with what she was working on.

"Hey brother, do you think putting an Anti-theft effect around the boat would be okay? It’s still got the Perception Filter, should I take that down?"

Bill hummed at this thought. "Why DESTROY a _good thing_ , when you can just MODIFY it instead!" He could think of _several_ other things that might be useful to do with it instead, with just a little _modification_ \-- several of which he'd _wanted_ to do before leaving -- and that ‘anti-theft effect’ sounded like it might be a fun and interesting thing, too! "HM. _Let's see_ …"

\---

Stan blinked at the mess he found when he got below deck, then let out a grumpy sigh. "You took it apart, huh?" Well, it wasn't surprising really. "You find anything out?"

Ford sighed in frustration. "No. With the way this melted, if there was any evidence it must have been destroyed along with it." He looked annoyed, angry, and disgusted. Stan easily kept his poker face. Damn, if who he was starting to think of as maybe having sabotaged it really _had_ done it, then she’d been smart enough to figure out a way to get away with it, too. Not that he’d put it past her; she was one smart cookie. He just couldn’t think of why she’d do it. Going after his brother because of _him_ made no sense; Carla wasn’t like that. If she was angry with you, she _would_ let you know it. ...And that right there was why Stan was pretty damn sure that it couldn’t have been her; keepin’ quiet about somethin’ like this didn’t seem like her. (Yeah, Miz had said something about Carla gettin’ even with both of them, but she’d also said all that junk before finally talking with her brother about shit, to stop bein’ all ‘confused’ like the kid kept sayin’ she was about everything.)

Stan let out a sigh. ...Didn’t matter anyway. Whether Carla or _anybody else_ had sabotaged the project or not, the project was still broken, there was no fixing what had happened -- not any way to take it back anyway, Stan _wasn’t_ gonna try and do one of those nonlinear time loop things the kid himself didn’t like doing for reasons -- and... 

Stan paused, and shook his head. Stan wasn’t bringin’ this stuff up, period. (And Miz had better not bring it up to Ford or the niblings or anybody else after this, either.) The whole thing was messed up, start to finish, and… it just… wasn’t worth it. There was no reason to get into any of this right now.

"--Look, it don’t matter." Stan told them. "It happened, it’s done; just focus on moving forward."

Sixer looked up at him with a frustrated glare. [It DOES matter!] he practically waved his notebook in Stan’s face.

"No, it don’t." Stan sighed. "Knowing one way or the other won’t change what already happened. You’re here, you’re set; you can still go to college, even if you ain’t going to _that_ one," he pointed out. "Ford did fine at that other school; got a boatload of Ph.D’s and everything. So it don’t matter anymore."

Ford gritted his teeth and shot to his feet. "--It _does_ matter, Stanley! You just don’t--" It _hurt_ , watching Stan look over at him with surprise. It was the same damn thing all over again! "--I had to work twice as hard just to get anywhere! Half the teachers at that school didn’t understand the topics I was trying to learn! I--"

"So what?" Stan said, frowning at him. "Like that’s any different from what high school was like? You got books from other places to learn what you wanted either way."

"I had to work alone!" Ford gritted out at him. "That wasn’t--!"

"--What makes you think you wouldn’t have had to do the same thing at that fancy school of yours that you ended up not going to?" Stan told him, frowning. "You tellin’ me that a bunch of people _there_ could’ve--"

" _Yes!_ " Ford cried out at him angrily, feeling frustrated in the extreme, because this was just-- just the _same thing_ all over again! And Stan _still_ wasn’t sorry about any of it in the least! "I would have been able to hold _actual conversations_ with people for once in my life--"

"--Like Fiddlenerd?" Stan said easily, and Ford glared at him.

" _Yes_ , like Fiddleford!" Ford said, "Except it would have been the _teachers_ , and at least _some_ of the students," Ford said hotly, "Certtainly a great deal _more_ of the people attending and on the school campus in general!"

"Sure," Stan said easily. "People _like_ McGucket, yeah, maybe." Ford stared at him in confusion, because why was Stan _agreeing_ \-- "But not McGucket himself. You’d never have met him if you didn’t go to that other school that you went to."

Ford paused. That was… and then Ford stiffened as his brain spun up all at once, feeling like it was running at several hundred miles per hour, as he suddenly started _connecting_ things and lines and it was like a conspiracy board with all the corks and photos suddenly lining up and--

" _ **Bill**_ …" Ford seethed. Because it made perfect sense now. Fiddleford was part of Bill’s Zodiac. Bill must have-- he’d stated multiple times now that he’d needed them ALL together-- and--

\--Stan was looking at him oddly. "Ford," Stan said carefully, "Thought you said that McGucket was your dorm buddy roommate? Your first friend, never made fun of you or nothin’? ...You ain’t actually sayin’ that you’re mad at the kid about… what, him bein’ a Zodiac, too?"

"No! That’s not-- Bill-- he--" Ford shook. "He _wanted_ me to meet Fiddleford! He _needed_ me to--" and it all made so much sense now. _Bill **must** have had something to do with the project breaking._ The reason why Bill didn’t want them talking about the project so badly was because _he’d_ \--

"Yeah... okay?" Stan frowned at him, almost in concern. "Thought you still kinda liked that school of yours, though, with the way you two talk about it?" Stan told him. "‘Cause you two got along there, and nobody was makin’ fun of you ‘cause the two of you were nerd-robot buddies or somethin’? --Hell, Ford. What would have happened if you’d gone off to that other school, and not had that crazy hamboning friend of yours for a roommate? ...Why would you be mad at the kid for that, if the demon _did_ have somethin’ to do with that, somehow?" Stan said slowly.

...And Ford felt every thought process he had flip over on its head again, _inside_ his head, truly stunned at the thought. Because he’d never thought of that. Of what it might be like to have gone to West Coast Tech, and… _not_ had Fiddleford there with him. He’d-- that was--

Fiddleford had been his first friend, besides his twin. The only person he’d been able to talk to and feel like they actually understood each other. That they _got_ each other.

And when any of the other students had ever tried to bully him--

Ford shook his head. "The students at West Coast Tech would’ve been a caliber above," he said firmly. "I wouldn’t have had to _worry_ about having any ‘bullying’ problems, there…"

...except that felt like a weak excuse, even to his own ears. Smarts hadn’t mattered there; he’d not been called names due to his higher level of intellect at Backupsmore, or bullied for his hands really. They’d simply… It had all felt so _childish_ , the things they’d said there -- but they’d all been no less frustrating for it. And the first time it had happened at the cafeteria...

...well, Fiddleford had started a _food fight_ over it, for Axolotl’s sake. Ford couldn't help but blush in embarrassment over it, still. _‘If they’re gonna go off bein’ childish, well, then I’m thinkin’ they deserve a face fulla mashed potatoes and beans, wouldn’t you say?’_ And the out-and-out _grin_ that Fidds had gotten, just before he’d started it all off, when Ford hadn’t truly thought that his friend and roommate could possibly have been being _serious_ about _any_ of it...

They’d both been _covered_ with the stuff by the time they’d managed to half-sneak, half-run out of the dorm cafeteria -- along with far far too many of their classmates, who had found themselves in a similar state upon Fiddleford’s gleeful offensive (and Ford’s own only _half-_ reluctant ~~at first~~ play at a similar outcome for all of the rest of them who had _dared_ to try and hit his friend back for defeending him), and… _all_ of them had been laughing as they’d run away from both the staff and administrators, all. And… he hadn't had so many problems with any of the others of them after that. It had all been so stupid that… Ford wasn’t even sure why he’d felt so exhilarated over the whole thing, smiling as he’d run...

...it wasn’t like he’d known that the next day, the ‘razzing’ he’d gotten from those same students was going to instead be about the trajectory of the flight of said food during the previous day’s fight, or the leverage of the spoons and other utensils used, and declarations of how he’d been so _terrible_ at it and then… well, the whole thing had devolved into less of a food fight than a _yelling_ match where they’d all been scribbling over each others’ equations on paper, as sheet after sheet was added to the pile across the table upon which they were _supposed_ to have been putting down their plates and eating...

...up until Fiddleford had apparently decided to _deliberately_ elbow somebody holding up a full plate of food for _not eating their own hot-handlin’ lunch like they should’ve_ , with a gleam in his eye, which had devolved things with a rather alarming alacrity into _another_ ‘round two’...

...which he and Fiddleford had promptly _won_ , because _their_ equations had been _better_ than the rest of the others’, and _this time_ Ford had actually been _trying_...

(...and apparently, the second time, so had Fiddleford -- because he apparently _hadn’t_ been the first…)

All-in-all, it had been a wonderful time, ‘Ford and the other Ford’, together, discussing topics far more advanced than any of their professors understood, checking over each other's work, staying up late into the night playing DDNMD together...

Ford realized he was smiling slightly, and then he sagged in place.

"Ford, ‘bullying’ happens everywhere," Stan said. "People just decide they don’t like you, and you’re gonna be stuck if you don’t got _somebody_ on your side, helpin’ you to push back." Stan’s frown changed in character slightly. "Are you really tellin’ me that you’d rather have gone to that West Coast Tech place, than have McGucket as a friend?"

"That’s not--" a fair assessment, Ford began to say. "Stan, we work in related fields. I could’ve still met and become friends with him later--"

"--Ford, if you’d gone to that fancy school, would you have even given him the time of day?" Stan asked him. "You look down on that university of yours, and you _went_ there, thinking that other place is so much better. If you could’ve worked with somebody from West Coast Tech, or worked with somebody you didn’t know from your university, on that portal of yours, who would you have picked?"

And Ford pressed his lips together. Because Stan wasn't wrong, but-- "That’s a false dichotomy. I would have worked with someone I knew, and I knew Fiddleford. But that doesn’t mean--" Ford said stubbornly.

"If you went to that fancy school, you would’ve known the West Coast Tech guy, and _not_ Fiddlenerd," Stan pointed out ruthlessly. "And you said it yourself; you couldn’t have done half that stuff without him, and you didn’t know anybody else who could." Ford remained silent. "So yeah, okay sure -- you would’ve worked with somebody _you knew_. So if you’d had a choice between a guy from that Backupsmore place who you didn’t know, and some guy from West Coast Tech who you did -- ‘cause you would’ve gone to school with ‘em -- would you have gone with the West Coast Tech guy, even if you thought they couldn’t do the work?" Stan pressed him, and Ford looked away with a wince -- because yes, he would have tried.

"You’re provin’ my point, Ford," Stan said. "If you went to that fancy school instead, you wouldn’t have made friends with McGucket."

"--Which likely would have ruined Bill’s plans!" Ford shouted out, tossing his hands out to his sides. "Because creating the portal required _both_ of us--!"

Stan raised his eyebrows at Ford, and said, "Ford, you know the kid didn’t do anything here, and the damn thing still broke."

Ford gritted his teeth in frustration. "That’s--!!"

"You heard the kid, and you know he wasn’t lying," Stan said staunchly. "He didn’t do anything except grab the kids, and stay with us. And the whole place didn’t exist before--"

"--Bill _also_ said that there were stand-ins for him, that had replaced him, both people and events," Ford said with a glare.

Stan gave him a long look. "You see anybody at that school who you didn’t recognize, who wasn’t there when _we_ were going to school?" Ford looked away from him, clenching his hands into fists. It had been so long ago, Ford wasn’t entirely _sure_...

"It’s _important_ ," Ford said. Because why else would Bill be so insistent that he even made that other demon not talk about it-- "The man eater must have broken it!" Ford said instead.

Stan shook his head. "Ford, the dragon-lady hated the kids being thrown out more than we do."

Damn him. "Bill has to want us not talking about the science fair project for a reason," Ford said roughly.

"Yeah? Well, so do I," Stan said. "Wouldn’t have gone along with his not wantin’ to talk about it for a couple days if I didn’t."

Ford stiffened, feeling as though he’d had a wire brush run up his back. _Hard._

"Well, _maybe we should_ ," Ford said, slow and angry. And Sixer began glaring at his side as well.

And Stan’s frown started looking a lot more like a glare.

"You do _not_ want me to do that, Sixer," Stan said, hard and slow himself.

And he said it to the both of them.

"...Could we maybe _not_ ," said Lee, curling in on himself a little bit, looking vastly uncomfortable.

Ford twisted his head to look over at him in shock, but Sixer’s eyes narrowed.

And Sixer slapped his notepad down hard, his eyes flashing angrily.

"--He didn’t do nothin’ this time, Sixer, not even an accident," Stan said roughly, pulling Sixer’s attention back to him. "Look, Ford--"

"--We are _discussing_ this before we leave," Ford said flat and low.

And that seemed to light a fire of anger under Stan. "--You really _don't_ want to talk about this." Stan warned him, taking almost a fighting stance, shifting his feet a bit like he was bracing himself.

Sixer slapped his notepad against the bench again, then gestured angrily between Lee and the strewn-out parts of the broken project.

"Dammit all," Stan said half-under his breath, as Lee pulled in on himself a little more, while also starting to look frustrated and angry himself. "This isn’t--"

"What aren't you telling me, Stanley? What are you hiding from me?!" Ford demanded. "From _us?!_ Did--" Ford started to go a little pale at the realization that-- "Did you actually--"

Stan gritted his teeth, and glanced down at his younger self. Damnit. Damnit!

"It _doesn’t_ matter!" Stan told him angrily.

"Yes it DOES--!" Ford practically screamed.

Stan looked like he was about to move forward and hit him. He had his fists clenched at his sides, shaking slightly.

But Ford watched him, and as he watched him, Stan didn’t do that.

Instead, he turned to his younger self and said, "Say it now, or you’re never gonna say it at all."

And Lee looked up at him in shock, at this grumpy old man who was supposed to be himself, up in front of him. "I--" He looked frustrated. "I don’t think--"

"He’d never gonna let go of it," Stan said. "I thought maybe he could, but he ain’t. We went without talking about it for months," Stan told him, then looked over at Ford, then at Sixer. "But _your_ twin ain’t gonna let this go in a good way now _unless you tell him_ ," Stan told his younger self. And he hated himself for having to say it. ~~For being wrong, when he’d been hoping he wasn’t. And for being right, when he’d been thinking that he just couldn’t be.~~

"I can’t," Lee said, looking angry himself, and maybe a little miserable.

He saw Sixer staring at him, shaking and so so very angry at him, and Lee just couldn't.

"Yes, you can," Stan told him. "And I know what you’re thinkin’, ‘cause I thought it myself," Stan told him, voice rough with anger. "I didn’t tell him then, and maybe I should've. But I didn’t, ‘cause I wasn’t sure I was right, cause I thought, well, I just couldn’t be -- but you’re right. _We’re_ right," Stan told him, "And we _know_ what we’re talkin’ about. So _say it_ ," Stan told him, "Or get used to him bein’ angry at you forever, for no goddamn reason, but you’d better pick one of those two right damn now and be ready to live with it, because if you don’t..." But Lee remained silent.

...up until Stan said, "You tell him, and I’ll back you up. I know a _hell_ of a lot more about all of the right names for this stuff now, and the ‘lines of reasoning’, to explain it to him all science-y," and then--

Lee turned and spat out at his brother, "-- _It doesn’t work!_ " Sixer went wide-eyed with shock and then anger, up until Lee followed that up with, "It was never going to work!" and Lee twisted out from his curled position as he said, "That-- _stupid_ machine of yours doesn't work! And it never DID!!!"

Ford went still, and Sixer shot to his feet in absolute outrage.

But Lee looked belligerent as hell where he was sitting himself, glaring up at his brother even as he shivered where he sat, in something a little like anger, but also...

"Tell him why," Stan said next. "Ask him the question. You _know_ which one I’m talking about," Stan intoned, as Ford looked on in complete noncomprehension at this.

And Lee sucked in a breath and hissed out, " _What happens if you turn that **stupid** thing sideways._"

And Ford… felt lost.

But Sixer’s face screwed up in something like a very different sort of outrage.

And he grabbed up his notepad and wrote something on it quickly, then slapped it into _Ford’s_ chest.

Ford stared down at it, then blinked as he looked over at Sixer, as his heaving chest, at the furious look in his eyes.

...He slowly looked down at the paper being held up against his chest.

And Ford slowly read off, "...It doesn’t work that way."

"It _should_ ," Lee said next, angrily, and Ford felt distinctly removed from the conversation. He’d started feeling an odd sort of shock, as he’d watched his own fight with his brother transferred to their younger selves, writ large, but when Lee had spat out his challenge, _his challenge_ , that the device simply _wasn’t designed to work_... because you couldn’t turn it sideways--

Ford felt another slap against his chest, and... he ended up reading off, "It’s not supposed to work that way." He could feel the glare from his younger self as he read the words off with far, far less anger than Sixer had likely intended it to be relayed...

"Why not?! A perpetual motion machine-thing is _supposed_ to keep moving, no matter what! No matter what is _no matter what!_ That’s the whole POINT of it!" Lee protested next.

[That’s not] was what Ford saw Sixer starting to scribble down furiously, but Lee was full steam ahead now, and Ford was starting to wonder if this was shock he was feeling here, or if it was actually something else rather different instead.

"Whatever direction its facin' away from gravity shouldn't matter!" Lee screamed out at Lee next. "Because the point of the thing is _balancing forces_ \-- ALL of them, _**no matter what!!**_ " And Ford felt a little faint as Lee _continued on_ , yelling out -- in frustration, of all things -- "It’s supposed to handle everything OUTSIDE of things, ALL of the outside forces -- and that includes _GRAVITY!_ "

And Ford faintly realized, as his own breathing went shallow and his head went light-headed and dizzy all at once, that he’d never suspected that his brother understood that much about physics. Not at this age. --And that was _terrible_ of him. Because this wasn’t ‘portal science’, as Stan always teased him about gruffly; this was merely a simple understanding of the basic fact that _gravity was a force_ , and _that_ meant--

Unbidden, Miz's angry words from that other day came back to him-- _"-- you were the smart one and he didn't want to take that from you--"_

\--This hadn’t even required a deeper understanding of the equations involved, just a view of the bigger picture in general; it was what Fiddleford had always simply referred to as a ‘check your reality check’, and...

...Sixer hadn’t been idle while Lee had been yelling, and Ford was barely aware of what he was reading off for him, all of it simply excuses, because...

...even as Lee looked frustrated, starting to be unable to respond in like kind, and _Stan_ took over, Ford _already knew_ that he’d made a **horrible** mistake--

" _Fine_ ," said Stan. "Let’s go off and _pretend_ for a second that turnin’ the thing sideways somehow _ain’t fair_ ," Stan drawled out, and Ford couldn’t help but wince and look away, "So let’s _bound_ our _assumptions_ a little bit," and Ford had a terrible sinking feeling as he heard his brother take on _his own_ tones, and this was the worst feeling in the _world_ , having his brother sound like _himself_ as he said--

"Thing needs to stay straight ‘cause it’s, what, just a _demonstration_?" Stan said, sounding like himself again for a moment. "Fine. All the forces involved are moving in the _expected_ directions, and gravity is moving along the same _field lines_." Ford couldn’t stifle a wince, as he closed his eyes. " _What’s the amplitude of gravity at this particular altitude?_ "

Sixer paused for only a moment, and Ford had to open his eyes and dully read off something that was to the effect of ‘it doesn’t matter, the device could handle it because the field is constant--’

"Except it isn’t," Stan said gruffly next. "You ain’t taking into account everything below it." Sixer frowned at furiously. "All that lava and stuff, moving around under our feet, that’s mostly iron and magnetic metals. It’s why we’re got a stronger magnetic field here, instead of someplace like Mars," and Ford felt like dying at about this point, because the moment Lee had screamed out about _gravity_ and he’d had a shocked second to try and understand what he could possibly mean, it had occurred to him that--

(Ford felt hot, and cold, at the same time. And he wanted, with a sick sort of longing, to drop off of the face of the earth and disappear into nothngness to _die forever_.)

Sixer wrote something he had to read to the effect of ‘that’s so small it doesn’t matter!’ And then Stan practically barked out at him -- and Lee sometimes put in his own frustrated question or two himself -- question after question about how much force _would_ matter? How could it respond that _quickly_ to any deviation? It would have to be _instantaneous_ , how could the device _calculate_ it _in advance_ if it wasn't part of the _equations_? If it was supposed to ‘just flow’ around the physical shape of the device itself and balance itself out, _how large_ would the force have to be for that to stop working? --Well, then if it could handle something as large as _anything_ , then what about the shift of the earth beneath it that would change the _orientation_ of the machine and the direction of the _field lines_ acting on it and moving through it -- oh, okay, then _how far_ of a deviation was _too far_ , since they were getting into ‘turning it sideways and making it _not work_ ’ territory there--

And Sixer kept making excuse after excuse after excuse -- all of which were shot down, even though the teenager refused to _admit_ it. Over and over again as he couldn't explain himself in a way that would make his project _correct_. And yet he kept making more and more of those _excuses_ that didn’t hold up, and Ford… started to realize that Sixer _knew_ this...

And Ford just felt cold. Because… it really didn't matter. Whether the project had broken or not was a moot point. He never would have gotten into West Coast Tech with a device that didn't work, that didn’t do what it was supposed to. None of it would have-- mattered-- because--

And then Stan dropped the bombshell.

"What about heat?" Stan said. "What’s your _operating temperature?_ \--What’s the _range_."

And Ford felt all the blood drain straight out of his face.

...And Sixer didn’t seem to get it.

And then the questions moved from gravity to _heat_. To the electromagnetic spectrum. --To the impact of conductive, convective, _and _radiative heat_ on the spinning structure, the expansion or contraction of the metal, and..._

__

__

Heat was a form of energy just as much as anything else. Force equals mass times acceleration -- really, the time derivative of momentum -- but energy was both a wave _and_ a particle. And radiative heat _did_ have a component of momentum -- thus, _force_ \-- to it, and when those wavelengths hit an object, that energy and momentum acted on the particles in the atoms and...

...Sixer’s arguments now were completely indefensible. They weren’t even real science. Complaints about how it shouldn't have mattered, without even backing himself up with any sort of evidence or anything more than just petulant whining through paper and Ford’s own dull-toned voice-- because Sixer had completely forgotten to even consider them as part of his equations and--

\--didn't want to admit he was wrong. Didn't want to even consider the fact that he'd been wrong.

They -- he himself, and this his younger self in this dimension here -- hadn’t even considered the impact of the surrounding environment on the device when they’d been writing their equations and doing all their design work, not really. Humidity, perhaps a bit, but light and heat? No. Not in the way that Stan was talking about it now. Ford had been thinking of the basic laws of thermodynamics, being able to use its own minor generation of heat directly to keep on spinning, with no energy lost; he hadn’t thought of it as one of those external forces that might need to be balanced and thrown off in some way, in order to allow for the mechanisms to continue to spin.

All he’d really thought of on that front was that a perpetual motion machine had to keep spinning. He’d worried about the frictional forces of the air and of the spindle, certainly, and either reducing of offsetting those forces -- friction and heat -- or otherwise feeding the energy back into the mechanism in some readily again-useful way through a complex set of processes, in rather sophisticated ways and by rather brilliant-making means, but… there was ‘indefinite work with no energy source’, and there was ‘spinning forever’, and...

...he had been trying to create something that ‘worked’ by the _second_ definition of such a device, _not_ simply the first -- because how could one show that such a device was running down due to external forces only, if it eventually stopped spinning on you at some point? But _that_ , by definition, would require that _every_ external force on the device be made to have no impact on its functioning, somehow, and...

(...oh, even _humidity_ would have an impact eventually, wouldn’t it -- a long-term impact on the metals that had been used in the creation of the device. Most of them would eventually rust; even the wind would eventually scour the surfaces down to the point at which the spinning components would be nothing more than flat nubs, the oh so very important structure and flow of the outer shell of it eventually ground down over time and lost…)

It wasn’t as though the device would operate on the surface of the sun. The temperature _did_ matter, even as ridiculous as the thought experiment became when taken to such extremes. Because in order to _keep spinning_ , such a _properly_ working device would have to somehow remain cool under even such extreme and pointlessly unexpected conditions, and Ford knew full well that there were _very_ few materials that could hold up to such temperatures for even a few _seconds_ , such a _small_ period of time...

(Frankly, it would need an actual force-energy barrier of some sort, rather than a ‘better material’, to keep such forces away from the rest of the physical structure in the first place…)

~~Oh Axolotl, he’d been so hurt by the memory of the event, that he’d never gone back to it to actually think _critically_ about it after college, was this why Fiddleford had always looked at him so oddly on the odd occasion when he brought it up drunk, even asked him once (drunk and with a terrible sarcasm himself, one that Ford had never understood until now) if Ford would ever consider trying to create another one of those again, _just for fun_ …~~

...And when _Lee_ , feeding off of what _Stan_ had said about all these problems with heat, then brought up the idea of holding a lighter under one of the rotating balls or spires and following it around -- or simply holding it under one side -- where the expansion and contraction effects wouldn’t be evenly distributed across the entire rotating unit... and then Stan _yet again_ brought up the question of balancing forces and uneven _magnitudes_ of forces along the same lines, _dynamically varying_ over time, and the _ranges_ of what was supposed to work and not--

\--Sixer threw down his pencil in disgust after finally writing that, _yes_ , _of course_ there were safe operating ranges because it was _only_ a prototype made for _demonstration purposes only_ \--

Stan waited a few beats, staring Sixer down. Stan had his arms crossed across his chest, watching Sixer as he stood there shaking with anger, in and out on every rough breath...

\--Sixer turned to Ford and slapped him in the arm, looking furious, and Ford looked away and could say nothing else other than...

"It’s indefensible," Ford said quietly. "You know it. We made a--" _mistake_ , but Ford jerked back in surprise as Sixer _shoved_ at him with both his hands, looking _irate_.

Ford stared down at Sixer in confusion, because why had he-- he seemed even angrier _now_ than he had when--

"You couldn’t explain it to me," they both heard Lee say quietly, but the sound carried, and... "You’ve never been able to _not_ explain somethin’ to me before when I asked, and… I shouldn’t have let you get away with blowin’ me off," Lee said quietly. And Lee… _didn’t_ look happy, just _morose_ , as he said, "I thought that maybe it was me, ‘cause everybody always said you couldn’t make a perpetual motion machine that could work forever, but you kept sayin’ that you were figurin’ it out, figurin’ out how to make it all actually work, and..."

Sixer started gesticulating wildly, looking angry as anything, and Ford had no _idea_ what he was trying to say--

\--but, somehow, Stan seemed to. Because Stan took one look at him and said in reply, "Yeah Sixer, it ‘worked’ all right, but it sure as hell ain’t a ‘perpetual motion’ _anything_ ; nothin’ lasts forever. Damn thing would _rust_ if you poured water on it--" and Ford winced again as Stan echoed his own thoughts at the last on rust and corrosion -- because humidity was water -- and then Ford winced _again_ at the larger thought really _hit_ him: that physical forces of _any_ sort should have been able to have been handled if it was _really_ a perpetual motion machine, because continuing to spin despite _all forces_ acting upon it meant--

It meant--

...It meant that on a truly _working_ perpetual motion machine, of the type Ford had been trying to build, tossing a bucket of water on it should have _no effect at all_ ; it should just keep on spinning. It meant that taking a _sledgehammer_ to it should have had no effect, if they were _really_ talking about _all forces_ having no effect on it whatsoever. Frankly...

(...Ford realized with a start that he’d actually have to sit down and figure out on paper at some point whether a _real_ perpetual motion machine, once it was made and spun up and actively working, would actually even stay in the same relative location on the surface of the _planet_ , as the Earth rotated on its axis through space, and the planet rotated around the sun, and the sun rotated its way around and across the Milky Way, and the Milky Way moved its way at such a high speed through the great cosmic sea surrounding it…)

...that meant that it really wouldn't have broken if it were a real, working one. It _couldn’t_ have broken. And the fact that this one _had_ 'exploded' internally and broken… it didn’t matter. It was by definition _already broken_ , because it didn’t do what it was supposed to do _and never had_ , right from the start.

\--Yes, it had been a prototype, and Ford had known that, but… he also hadn’t, not deep down in his gut and his heart and his soul. Deep down, he _hadn’t_ known that -- not any of it. Deep down, he’d thought of his project as _perfect_ , and thought that his _math_ at the time had been perfect and all-encompassing and the all-inclusive sum of each and every effect that could ever have possibly mattered to and for the device’s own operation, but that… _that_ had been a _lie_.

And he hadn’t even known it.

And… Stan hadn't wanted to tell him. Hadn't wanted to let Ford know that he'd been wrong.

\--Stan had blown it off at the time, when they’d been in the twelfth grade, thinking he himself must’ve been _wrong_ , rather than _challenging_ him on it, but… Ford realized with the beginnings of a very new and unpleasant kind of shock exactly why Stan might’ve thought that _Ford’s_ idea of his science fair project getting him into a good college had been the pipe dream, between the two of them. Why _Stan_ might have thought that the boat was their solid Plan A, and _gone along with_ Ford’s… with Ford’s effervescent and unlikely ‘dream’ -- seemingly strange and out of the blue to him, apparently -- a dream of impressing a bunch of nerds with a project that _didn’t do what he’d said it did_.

Back then, Stan hadn’t wanted to say anything about it, for a very different set of reasons. But _now_... the reason why Stan didn't think it mattered _now_ , forty-odd years later, if they found out who had broken the project or not, was really due to the exact same set of reasons. --Because _to Stan_ , it changed nothing. Even if the project as Ford had made it had been just fine, from _Stan’s_ viewpoint Ford still would have been rejected by the college board on account of his machine being a lie -- one that they would have realized the reality of sooner or later, and once they had he would have been kicked out of that university rather unceremoniously, Ford had no doubt about _those_ particular sorts of realities, when it came to academia -- and--

And Ford felt exhausted. Because this meant that all of this -- Stan being disowned, the younger Ford being disowned, _all_ of it -- none of it had-- 

\--Sixer snapped up his pencil again, and scribbled something down furiously before waving it at Stan, and Ford blinked as he read that which Sixer had written in huge letters across two pages of his notebook rather shakily: _’THEN WHAT IS IT?!’_

"A gravity battery," Stan said simply, arms crossed, standing where he was. "If you let it sit there long enough, it’d start spinning _faster_."

Ford stared at Stan in absolute shock. And without meaning to, he made a strangled sort of sound.

And _now_ , Stan finally _finally_ turned his head to look at him, instead of looking Sixer -- who Stan had been focused on the entire time, as if Ford had been nothing more than his translator, his badly-translated voice -- and Stan said, "What. That was one a’ the first things I had to figure out with that portal of yours, tryin’ to fix it. That was the _easy_ stuff, Ford," he was told, and Ford felt faint all over again.

...Stan didn’t even look mad. He just looked tired, and-- and _concerned_ and… maybe a little sorry...

\--He looked _sorry_ at having told _the truth_ to him, to them, and Ford suddenly felt a terrible urge to start laughing hysterically and never, ever stop--

~~Ford wanted to _cry_.~~

"Ford, I ain’t mad," Stan said with a sigh, working his way over, stepping over the benches gingerly as he went, "I--" and Ford-- couldn’t help but flinch away from him, taking a single step back--

Stan stopped in place. He looked almost stricken. Sorry. And maybe a little lost.

(Now, _now_ , after all these years, _now_ Stan looked sorry, and Ford--)

...And now _Ford_ felt like he was the one who’d been hit with that paralysis-chemical of Bill’s in the throat.

"It really don’t matter," Lee said, sounding more than a little uncomfortable again, where he sat. "You don’t gotta know everything, y’know. --So you maybe left some stuff out this time," Lee said next, to his twin, as Sixer refused to look at any of them, hands fisted at his sides, gripping his notepad and pencil. "So what? You’re _supposed_ to get people to help you check your work, right? --Maybe those admissions people were jerks who wouldn’t help ya out, but that’s on them. Right? You know more stuff now, and you could make it better next time," Lee said, slowly standing up, to move over and crouch down next to it.

And Ford couldn’t help but watch Lee, almost mesmerized, as Lee picked up a small piece of it -- part of the spinning component -- and looked it over, almost carefully, as he said, "A gravity battery sure sounds useful as-is, anyway. Bet a lot of people might be interested in buying something like that." Lee looked up at Sixer and got a small smile. "Heck, anything that’s got better gears and stuff would be better. Some of that’s friction-stuff, but a lot of that’s heat, too, right? And you were workin’ on solvin’ _that_ with _this._ " Lee looked back down at the spread-out pieces in front of him. "The battery-stuff could be like those solar-powered things we got for the boat, only it can work even without sunlight. Just sit it someplace for long enough and go, yeah?" Lee frowned down at it all. "We need to get ya some new parts and stuff, but I bet if we got this all back up and working and remade again…"

Sixer stomped forward, out across all of it, and-- he stomped half of the pieces into the wooden boards of the lower deck.

He stomped through it like he was wanting to crush it all beneath his feet, and he took his notebook full of equations along with him.

He disappeared up the ladder.

...Ford couldn’t help but note the half-worried, half-disappointed look on Lee’s face as he watched this.

The worst part was, Lee hadn’t looked surprised. ( _Ford_ had been surprised. The offer had been--)

Lee glanced over at Stan. "...He gonna stop bein’ angry with me anytime soon?" Lee asked Stan with a sinking feeling, and Stan sighed, which gave Ford a sinking feeling.

Stan shrugged and seemed to be stifling a wince. "Dunno. We, uh, only just had this conversation… recently." He was rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"When?" Lee asked.

"Uh… now," Stan said, sending an almost peeking look over at Ford. "Just now."

Lee looked over at Ford, and his jaw dropped. "You didn't tell him for-- like 50 years?!"

"Hey!" Stan objected. "It’s only been forty-something years, and he’s been all lost in space or somethin' for the last thirty! And--! ...I’m not makin’ this any better, am I," Stan said, and Ford heard the wince in his voice.

"But you didn’t--" Lee glared, then gestured as he got to his feet, "Why didn’t you-- I mean, _you’re_ the one who said--!! --Why the hell did you do it _now!?_ You freaking’ hypocrite!" Lee yelled out at him. "--Yeah, I said it! Twenty-dollar words, I got ‘em! I got a whole _bunch!_ " Lee yelled out at him next, looking stubborn, and...

...and more than a little freaked out.

"--It’s fine," Ford rushed to assure him, and he had no idea exactly how he was able to say it, but when he saw both Stan and Lee look over at him in something like-- Ford winced and said, "I-- that is--" Ford winced hard, then looked down a little and said, "I… I held onto that anger about that for _so long_ ," Ford said, unconsciously clenching a hand against his chest, "I-- _no!_ " he said quickly, as Lee’s fearful look. "I-- _Knowing_ this now, I-- your brother…" Ford pulled in a breath. "Maybe he can _let go_ of it sooner, and..." _‘I wish I had known,’_ he thought to himself, looking away from both of them, feeling the strain.

...Except he hadn’t known and, sometimes, the anger had been all that been keeping him going, kept him from sinking into despair for having _lost his twin_ \--

And _Ford_ hadn’t been the one kicked out of the house for it. (And Bill had said that they weren’t the same person.) Ford hadn’t expected his younger ~~not-~~ self to _smash_ his own project himself, into the deck himself, _deliberately_ ~~(though hadn’t he felt that own urge himself before?)~~... Ford had _no idea_ if things would ‘maybe’ be better or not, and he almost felt like a _liar_ as he stood there and looked at them, and...

...And Stan was still staring at him. And Lee was looking back at him, almost like he thought that...

Ford swallowed hard. ~~And he felt an even _worse_ urge to cry at the way Lee was looking at him now, because...~~

"...C’mon, Ford," Stan said roughly. "It’s been a rough night, and one hell of a week." Ford looked over at him, having no idea what he was meaning with these words of nothing remotely resembling comfort or encouragement, until what Stan said next, which was:

"Let’s go home."

\---

They found Sixer upstairs hunched in a corner with his head on Miz's lap while she pet his hair. "You don't have to be angry all the time. Lee's allowed to be smart too," she told him gently. Bill just snorted. "You're wasting your time on him."

"If there's any chance for him to improve, I want to support that." Miz couldn't help it. When a child looked so upset, she just wanted to comfort them. Ugh, she was spoiling him, wasn't she?

"He’ll get the wrong idea," Bill said next, then seemed to give up, as both Stanley then that Stanford made their way up onto the deck from the hold.

Miz nodded, petting Sixer gently. "He lost his mother a week ago. I know he's gonna get the wrong idea, but a sad child is still a sad child. I don't want him running off and doing something rash."

Lee poked his head up onto the deck next, and he didn’t look too happy at what he’d just heard Miz say.

"We didn’t lose ma," Lee said, "We can still go to her if--" Then he flinched as Sixer shoved Miz’s hand off of him angrily, sprung to his feet, and ran off across the deck, and down the gangway. "--Sixer!!" Lee yelled, then cursed as he lost sight of Sixer off into the night. "Damnit..."

"Kid, odds," Stan said lowly, not sounding all that happy with anything in general just then.

"Hm," said Bill. "Probably headed back for the pawn shop, if I had to make an ‘educated guess’," the demon noted. He made a small gesture with his wrist, and flicked his eyes to the left for a moment. "Probably."

Miz picked herself up. "I've got my Eye on him, just in case." She'd planted a small triangle onto his shirt while she’d comforted him, just in case he ran off like he did.

Lee shifted from foot to foot.

"Might wanna let him go there alone," Stan said with a sigh. "You both go, and ma’ll have to split her attention between ya."

"Probably need to watch the boat, anyway," Lee said dourly, "And all our stuff."

"Oh, that’s not much of a concern," Bill said lightly. "Unless you want Miz and I to remove the ‘anti-theft’ spell we turned the perception filter spell into for you." He looked rather pleased at this.

Stan glanced over at Ford, who still looked a little too shocked to be dealing with this stuff right now. ...Damnit. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but Ford had refused to let go, and with the way Sixer had been acting? --It would’ve been worse than what had happened between them, if Lee hadn’t spoken up when he did. Sixer had been starting to think that Lee had broken his project on purpose, and when _Ford_ had started to consider it-- that had been the last straw. _No way_ was Stan going to leave here with Lee feeling guilty about what had happened; he’d done _nothing_ wrong, and Sixer would’ve walked all over him for the rest of his life without Lee feeling like he could do anything about it, or leave him to it, on his own, himself. ~~It would’ve been worse than prison--~~

"It's a pretty good effect. Ensures you won't have your boat stolen or boarded by pirates or stowaways." Miz said matter of factly. "You have to invite people onboard."

"A list of names invited is shown in the cabin on the side wall," Bill told him next. "Touch the list, or the railing, and say whether to remove a name or to add it. Access types are listed in the columns. No-one can see it but you and ‘Ford, and no-one can remove you from the highest-level access list, not even everyone on that list trying to do it together including you." And yes, Bill had been very careful in setting that up. (And yes, that ‘remove you’ did _not_ include Sixer, only Lee…)

Lee wasn't in the mood to appreciate her and Bill's thoughtfulness though. "What's Sixer doing right now?" Lee demanded of them. "Is he okay?" The streets weren’t all that safe this time of night--

Miz's eyes Flickered. "Climbing in through the window of the pawnshop."

"Which floor?" Lee demanded.

"Upper bedroom -- yours," Bill reported, eyes flicking to the side. "He was quiet, and Filbrick isn’t in the house at-present."

Lee let out a breath.

Then Lee looked to Ford.

Ford looked uncomfortable as hell.

"...You should likely leave him be for awhile," Ford said quietly. "Either he’ll come back, or…"

"Or?" Stan said, unsure about that last bit.

"Or he’ll stay at home," Ford said next, which had both Lee and Stan staring at him.

"...Pa won’t let him stay," Stan said slowly.

Ford looked tired. "Don’t be ridiculous, Stan," Ford said. "Just because _you_ didn’t come back--"

"--because I knew he wouldn’t _let_ me come back, Ford," Stan said tersely. "Not without--"

"--Swallowing your pride and being ready to say a simple ‘I’m sorry’?" Ford said bitterly, looking away from him.

"--Without paying back the millions that you were supposed to make," Stan said in a tone of voice that had Ford looking back over at him, and...

"...You _can’t_ be serious," Ford said, in a mouth gone horribly dry. Because Stan could not _possibly_ have thought that--

"That’s what Pa said, and Pa meant it. You were there. You heard him. You know he wasn’t joking around. He’s never joked about anything like that, especially not money. Not now. Not ever," Stan said in a tone so tired and resigned, and with such a dull edge of old anger to it, that Ford would have had to do a double take, if he wasn’t already looking his brother straight in the face. (Miz was scowling and looking away, wanting to comment once more about how Filbrick was a terrible father, but Stan had gotten so upset the last time she’d said it that she forcibly kept her mouth shut.)

And for a few very long moments, Ford stared back at Stan, truly speechless. He couldn’t believe that-- he _couldn’t believe_ that Stan _actually thought_ \--

Ford pulled in a breath. Because, like the science fair project apparently, _that didn’t matter_ , because Pa being the ‘man of the house’ aside, Pa listen to their mother, and--

"Ma would’ve--" Ford said quietly but firmly.

"She wouldn’t--" Stan began, and Ford felt a chill go down his spine.

"--She _would_ , Stan," Ford insisted. "If-- if _either_ of us were kicked out of the house, or hurt in any way--" Ford said, trying to encompass the entire situation at hand.

"--Maybe for _you_ , but not for me," Lee said quietly, and the two old men fell silent for a moment as they both looked over at the teenager.

"....She would, Lee," Ford said quietly, "Please. You have to believe me." Ford remembered what it had been like, after Stan had been kicked out. How Ma had cried for _days_ , and begun to rail on end at their Pa. How Pa had gone from being obstinate in the first week, to dour in the second, to deathly quiet in the third week, and silent in the fourth as Stan kept just… _not coming back_ , and when it became clear that there was no sign of Stan _ever_ coming back...

Lee looked at Ford skeptically, and Ford felt his heart nearly skip a beat in anxious stress. And then Lee looked to Stan.

...And, to Ford, it was _very_ clear that Stan didn’t believe what he’d just said one bit.

Ford’s heart sank. And he felt… He shivered and he wondered, in a corner of his mind, if this was the same sort of feeling that everyone always called ‘heart-sick’.

"Why would she?" Lee said, with a terrible new edge of bitterness to his tone that Ford recognized out of Stan himself as an old one, so very many years later. "I'm just the _stupid_ one who isn’t gonna amount to anything, not like Sixer. I left on-purpose to follow Sixer, when I didn’t even need to; when she _told_ me _not_ to, and I went off and _did it anyway_ ," Lee said, looking away from him, before he added even more bitterly, "I’m stupid--"

"No you're NOT!" Miz snarled. "I told you-- no matter what shit people have told you all your life-- you're not stupid!" Miz was so angry for a moment that her form seemed to glitch. "Stop _saying_ that about yourself!"

"--I’m _stupid_ , because I can’t figure out how to make my brother _feel better_ , okay?!?!" Lee shouted out at her, then winced away from her almost automatically right after, expecting Bill to--

Bill patted Miz on the head. "Miz, why don’t you go down to the shoreline. You remember where the portal was, don’t you?" Bill said lightly, not taking his eyes away from Lee. "We’ll be there just in a few moments; a minute at most."

"Kid…" Stan said warningly, not sure what was going on here.

"It’s fine," the demon-kid said. "You and that Stanford should go, too. I can handle this. You’re the one making this worse than it needs to be, now." Stan clenched his jaw at that.

Miz was huffing, frustrated tears in her eyes as the edges of her form seemed to flicker and twist. "T-that still doesn’t ma-make you stupid," she huffed out at Lee before she went, as her breath hitched from holding back sobs. Miz nodded stiffly at her brother and turned to step over the side of the boat.

After she’d left, the kid looked a little stiff himself -- after noticing the ‘flickering’ that his sister was doing -- but he looked Stan straight in the eye and said, "I want you to go. You should take Stanford with you."

Lee felt himself go cold.

"Don’t go hurtin’ Lee," Stan said quietly.

"I will not hurt or kill him," the kid said in return. "You have my word."

Stan gave him a long searching look -- while Ford, frankly, looked alarmed -- and then...

Stan gave the kid a nod and walked off. But before he made his way down the gangplank, he stopped, sighed, and gave a hug to Lee before he went, to say goodbye, wanting to make him feel at least a little better, and Bill watched him do this.

Stan went down the gangway, and now it was three.

"You can’t--" Ford began.

" _ **GO**_ ," Bill said, starting to look irate, then said almost sing-song, with an edge to his tone, "Unless you WANT to leave your brother all alone at the edge of a _portal_ with--"

"--You want to kill me for yellin’ at your sister, just do it already," Lee cut in, trying not to shake in place. "But you’d better throw my body over the side or somethin’ when you’re done, don’t want Sixer coming back to a mess like--"

He stopped at the blinking look on Bill’s face.

Bill looked between that Stanford, and the little Lee.

And Bill _sighed_.

He stood where he was, and shoved a hand into his pocket.

"Wasn’t going to do this in front of _him_ ," Bill said, ticking his head at Ford as he worked, pulling out-- his phone, what was he--?? "He gets all _upset_ when I talk to people in other dimensions."

Lee wasn’t so sure what was going on, but he relaxed a little when he looked between them, and the older Sixer went from looking like he was ready to kick ass and get _drop-kicked himself_ for trying it, to confused and shocked instead.

"You aren’t giving him--" Ford said, stunned.

Lee frowned as the demon seemed to be doing some kind of shuffling act, with one or two things in his hands that looked… kind of like blocky rectangles? Then he put the one away, and held his hand over the other.

"He’s not Stanley," Bill said almost firmly, "But he _could have been_ Stanley, if Stanley wasn’t first." Lee had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the older Sixer looked shocked, then _more_ shocked, and, "Little Lee loves his brother, and wants him to be happy. And Stanley _hugged_ him," Bill muttered, as he shifted the hold of whatever that thing was in his hands, then started making a few plucking motions at it, all of which was making Lee uneasy. "Have _you_ ever seen Stanley hug anyone who he doesn’t consider to be family?"

Ford stilled in place.

"...He hugged Sixer down in the hold, last week," Lee said, starting to get an inkling of maybe where this might be going.

"That’s _different_ ," Bill said tersely, looking up at him. "Stanley hugged YOU without provocation, other than an ‘I’m leaving now’. --You’re on the priority list," Bill told him, looking back down at the device, "Like it or not."

...Lee wasn’t sure what it meant, that the older Sixer looked like he’d just been socked in the gut on hearing that one, but...

Then Lee startled as Bill walked up to him and slapped the chocolate bar-sized rectangle he’d been holding and doing stuff to into his chest.

"Invisible to anyone but you," Bill said. "Intangible to anyone but you. You remember what Miz showed off in school earlier today? --It’s similar, but different," Bill told him. "You can’t contact Miz with this, the way I have it set up right now," Bill told him. "But, you _can_ call _me_ on my phone! --This is a phone, among other things."

Lee stared at him.

"...Why would I ever want to call you," Lee said slowly.

"If you want help, or want to talk to Stanley, then you can use _that_ to get it," Bill said to him next, pointing to the blocky thing. "It will connect to mine," which must be the other thing he’d been holding, okay. "I can hand mine off to Stanley. I live in the same house as he does," Bill told him, "And I know where Stanley is at all times. --If you need help from _him_ , you can call him through me, and I will pass your call off to him," Bill said. "If you want to talk to me, you can talk to me, also! --No inspiration from me, though," Bill said, glancing over at that Stanford with a long look.

"Did you talk this over with Stan," Ford said quietly.

"No," Bill said tersely. "This is a safety-of-family issue. It’s his _line_. I am **not** crossing his line," Bill said, "And I am _not_ leaving any of Stanley’s family alone, in a place where neither of us are when I can’t guarantee their safety -- not without a way for them to tell me-or-him if someone is messing with them, so that we can _come_ back here if we need to and _immediately_ take care of their little problems ourselves!"

Lee felt like he’d swallowed his tongue.

"The power button is there," Bill pointed. "You turn it on or off by pressing-and-holding it for three seconds -- then letting go of it. It doesn’t need recharging; it will always have power; power is beamed in remotely. The sound and light are directed; no-one can see or hear anything on it except you also -- this is how it is ‘invisible’," Lee was told. "Intangibility for others would take too long to explain right now; it is also waterproof and almost-completely indestructible. All of these spells work on the _device_ , **not** on YOU. There are instructions for how to use the device on the device," the demon told him next, "You’ll see them when you first turn it on."

"...Right," Lee said slowly.

Bill smiled at him. "I’d say ‘don’t lose it’," the demon told him almost cheerfully, "But I put a spell on this thing that will make it appear in a pocket of yours if it’s more than twenty feet away from you, so you can’t ever ‘lose’ it ‘accidentally’!" Bill told him next. Then he leaned in. "So either always wear something with at least one pocket on it, or _don’t wear any pockets at all at your own peril **and** the penalty of seeing US all again VERY SOON,_" Bill intoned, almost in Lee’s face, with the _widest_ grin he’d seen out of the demon yet.

Lee was trying to figure out what to say to this, when Bill’s face was abruptly not in his own face anymore.

And Lee was left blinking after them, as the older Sixer continued hauling Bill off and down the gangway plank by the grip he had under the demon’s shoulder -- while Bill griped about it in his usual complaining demon-fashion, and the older Sixer grumbled back at him, stiff-backed as he marched the demon away from him, about _not scaring people_ \--

Lee stared after them.

And then he stared down at the blocky rectangular ‘phone’ he was holding.

That older Sixer had told them all not to take gifts from demons every single time that they’d tried to do it. _Every. Single. Time._

...every single time _except_ this one.

And Lee wasn’t exactly up right now for trying to figure out whether _this_ one going without some kinda warning was some kind of ‘oversight’ or not.

Lee waited until he could no longer see or hear either of them -- _any_ of them -- anymore.

Then he promptly turned around and chucked the ‘phone’ over the side of the railing, out and into the ocean waves in front of him, as hard and as far as he could.

Then he let out a breath as he wasn’t struck by lightning or anything in the next couple of seconds, and turned away, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tried to figure out what to do next--

\--and froze in place for a moment as he felt something big-ish and kind of blocky in there.

...He slowly pulled out the ‘phone’ and stared at it.

And then he just as slowly shoved it back into his pocket.

_’Great…’_

Lee pulled in a deep breath of that nighttime ocean air, and... he walked into the cabin on-deck. He wasn’t sure yet if he was gonna go after Sixer or not, whether it was a good idea or not, but either way, having some warm drink waiting for his twin once he was back -- tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate mix, or _something_ \-- would be better than _not_ setting that up for him. ...Y’know, in case he went out looking for him and the demons had been lying about where he was, and he came back early first, before Lee found him. Just in case.

Lee let out a breath, as he took a look around the cabin, and mentally took stock of everything he was gonna have to handle for himself and Sixer from now on. --They had the boat, a lot of cash, and plenty of food both in the galley _and_ down in the hold. The ‘list of names’ was up on the wall, and Lee-- _Stan_ grimaced at the list of names, thinking that the first thing he was gonna spring for was a dark and pretty thick curtain to cover over that.

He took a quick moment to place his hand against the wall and-- yeah, the demons’ names came right off of it like they were never there, along with the two older-thems’ names, which had both had ‘-- Dimension 46’\’ next to them, for some reason. Le-- _Stan_ let out a sigh. Damn. Stupid demons; he was having to get used to his own name all over again.

He looked down and saw a few more gold coins on the countertop and snorted. ‘Extra rent’, sure. He pocketed them. ...Food, yeah. Really, in the dried goods they had, it was enough to last them for months if need be. And they didn’t need any more supplies to make the place livable; they could even save their quarters for stuff other than the laundromat. With all the stuff that Miz added into and around the boat over the past few days... Stan looked around and realized that, heck, the boat might be small, but between the cabin up here and what he’d been doing with the rest of the spaces belowdecks? They almost had a better furnished living space than their parents’ house. ...And, bonus, everything was solar-powered so they wouldn’t need to pay any electricity bills -- just ‘gas’ bills for propane tanks if they really wanted to use the fire ranges on the stove to cook.

And as for money, beyond what Lee (--Stan!) had had in the boat account (a decent sizeable chunk) and his own checking account (almost nothing)? Stan had counted through all the money they’d been given by the old-man him, over the weekend. Most of it had gone into a couple of new bank accounts that the old-man him had helped them open -- which meant the money in the bank would be untouchable until they each turned eighteen -- but the old-man him had told them it was good to have some put aside. Less chance of being stolen, lost, or spent needlessly, while they weren’t yet used to the idea of being flush, but also needing to _save_ as much of it as possible, in case they couldn’t (or didn’t want to) get jobs for awhile, themselves.

They still had a lot of cash on hand, too, in a safe that Miz had built with DNA scanners to prevent theft. That was safely sequestered away below decks, too.

Stan sighed as he pulled out the list of wrecks that Miz had given him. _That_ was better than a bunch of diving equipment that he couldn’t use, and probably couldn’t sell without a _lot_ of questions asked. --Worst-case, he could sell the _locations_ if he had to, one by one. Maybe even do it for a share of the profit, or the treasure found?

He let out a breath, as he sat down on his bunk and looked around the cabin. It was empty, almost like nobody had ever lived here before. ...Well, maybe not _empty_ -empty, but it didn’t feel lived-in, just… filled with _stuff_ that was _waiting_ for somebody to live in it.

He felt it sink in that he was all alone. _Really_ alone. --His brother wasn’t here, and he needed to take care of him--

...except the old-man him was right. If he went running off after Sixer _now_ , he wouldn’t appreciate it. He’d just get mad all over again. He’d called him _clingy_ before, and if Sixer was at home crying in front of their ma--

Stan winced at the very thought. He didn’t want to risk Sixer getting caught out doing that, and getting all angry about it.

...which left him all alone on the boat, by himself, havin’ to look out after himself...

Stan shoved his hands into his pockets again, hunching his shoulders, and paused again, blinking.

He slowly let out a breath, and tried to tell himself that things weren’t really so bad...

And then the whistle on the kettle went off on the stove, and he got up.

\---

Miz was throwing blue fireballs into the sky and ocean, screaming in frustration. Stan quietly watched her as she threw her ‘little’ tantrum, waiting for Ford and the kid to show up. Finally she seemed to wear herself out and slump over in the sand. "Lee's not stupid. And neither are you." Miz sniffled.

Stan sighed. "Why're you so angry, dragon-lady?"

"Because you're a wonderful man and you don't appreciate yourself enough." Miz wiped at her face. "I don't like seeing you two putting yourselves down all the time." She pulled her legs up to her chest. "It's not fair."

"Life ain't fair, and the world likes kicking people when they feel down," Stan told her straightforwardly, walking up to her side, and crouching down next to her on the sand gingerly. (He sure as hell wasn’t gonna _sit_ his tush down onto any of it, this time of night. Glass Shard Beach had its name for a reason.)

"But this isn't the world, it's you and your own view of yourself. Lee isn't stupid, Sixer's mad because he's an angry child. It's not Lee's job to appease Sixer when his precious feelings get hurt. Especially not when Sixer never gives a shit about making Lee feel better whenever he gets upset."

"Hey…" Stan reached over to cat-pet Miz on the head, "That's not on you either." It was more of a stroking motion than a patting, Stan having realized how much it really did make a difference, when it came to her letting go of some stuff and calming down faster. (Mabel had her hugs; Dipper did less soft arm-punches and more ‘words of wisdom’, kinda. Wasn’t like he wasn’t used to different kids needing different stuff. ...Hell, even the kid did better with soft, almost-hair-mussing head-pats.) "He’ll feel better soon. And ma ain’t gonna kick him out, exactly," at least, Stan was pretty sure she wouldn’t. "It’s _Pa_ getting ahold of him that’s gonna be a problem. Ma’ll help SIxer feel better, and Lee’s gonna feel better after that, after he’s back."

Miz nods slowly. "...okay…" she sniffled. "But it sucks."

Stan sighed. "Yeah, well, getting kicked outta the house sucks. --Not like _that’s_ news," he said, mussing her hair up a bit at the last, with a rueful half-smirk.

Miz sighed and slowly got up. "I hope they work this out."

"They'll be fine," Stan told her, while trying not to think about it too hard. (Hell, he had his own mess with his own brother to try and handle here, himself.)

He glanced off down the beach as the wind picked up, and sighed as he spotted Ford dragging Bill down the beach towards them. Stan groaned a little as he pushed off of his knees, straightening up from his crouch. "C’mon, Miz. This ain't our problem anymore. Let’s go."

\---

Bill was concentrating on reopening the portal. Luckily, he’d set it up to be _still there_ and merely had to open it and not create it. _Much_ easier on his energy reserves! ( _Especially_ since, as part of their leaving, he was going to need to finish...)

Bill HAD to admit, though, that he’d been feeling… a bit more _energetic_ in general since he'd started eating his sister’s cooking. (...Possibly because he’d been eating _MORE_ of it? HM. Stanley _had_ told him that he should try to eat more if he wanted to feel more ‘awake’ and ‘energetic’, once or twice...) His stupid human-ish body was easier to move around, for one thing -- _far_ more responsive than usual, and with far less concetrated effort required!

Well, whatever the reason was, he hadn’t found it as hard not to smite that Stanford for dragging him around earlier, and it was easier to concentrate on what-all he was wanting to do _more_ than that, instead. He finished his work, then set his shoulders and _braced_ himself as he _commanded_ \--

\--and soon enough, the portal was open again.

Ford was staring at it. His worry over the niblings came back. And part of him still thought that they would be safer if Bill wasn’t there with them… but…

Miz gave her brother a comforting nuzzle before he braced himself again, and she stepped through the portal.

Bill was marginally less jittery about the necessity (and procedure) of his sister leaving this time. _Marginally_.

Ford watched as Bill slowly lowered his hands away from his chest.

Ford glanced over at Stan. ...No, he couldn’t force Stan to stay here, in a dimension not his own. He couldn’t even request it. And Bill certainly hadn’t been _lying_ when he’d been talking about time-traveling portals… or bringing people back from the dead.

Ford clenched his fists. There was no ~~easy~~ solution to this. ~~Not yet.~~ \--They _couldn’t_ keep the niblings safe, not as things stood, and _even if_ they somehow managed to convince Bill to stay here, with them, until the niblings had led out their full lives and died of old age...

Ford closed his eyes in emotional pain at the thought. ...Right here and now, he had no choice but to keep following Stan, who seemed to be both following and _not_ following Bill -- though largely going along with the demon’s whims, regardless.

Nothing had changed. Not really. Stan had been in danger before -- and he was in as much or more danger now, with having given himself over to Bill in the manner in which he’d done it, while they’d all been here -- but…

But things had _always_ seemed insurmountable, when it came to Bill Cipher. Up until they hadn’t. This wasn’t exactly new to Ford, even though he didn’t like it. (He certainly didn’t _have_ to like it!) --Bill was _not_ invincible or unstoppable, and Ford would handle it as it came. He would do it. He _had_ to. To keep his niblings safe, he would do most anything...

"Kid," Stan said. "C’mon, now."

"That Stanford first," Bill said almost demandingly, and Ford suddenly realized that Stanley had nearly stepped through the portal just now, and _Bill was physically blocking him from entering it_.

"Kid," Stan said in descending tones, "If I go through next, then your sister--"

"No," said Bill.

"Kid, said Stan.

"That Stanford, you, me," Bill said, and he looked… odd. Ford couldn’t place the emotion.

...There was a teenaged girl standing in front of them, being obstinate. This was what Stanley was seeing.

Ford pulled in a breath, and said, "Bill, where does that portal lead?"

"Back to the dimension we came from, out in front of Stanley’s house, five minutes after the last portal I made there from here closed," Bill snapped out at him.

... _Something_ was wrong, but Ford couldn’t figure it out. Bill was starting to _shake_ slightly again.

"Okay," Stan said, trying for reasonable tones. "How about together." Ford blinked and looked over at him. "We all _came_ here together, right? Why don’t we do that instead, kid."

Ford watched as Stan held out his hand to Bill, in a sort of horrified amazement.

...And if Bill hadn’t been staring at that outstretched hand with something like the same facial reactions to seeing this that Ford was feeling himself, Ford might’ve worried about that a bit more.

"C’mon," Stan said, lifting his hands up and turning Bill back around, to face the portal instead of him. "Portal-time, let’s go. --Ford?" he said, looking back at him.

Ford pulled in a breath.

...And Ford took those few steps forward, to come up to Bill’s side, standing at the demon’s left.

Stan was standing at Bill’s right, and he was already grasping Bill’s hand.

Ford tried not to twitch. He _wanted_ to tell Stan to force Bill to move to his left, so that Ford himself could stand at Stan’s right. But...

Ford had a sinking feeling as he looked at Bill, and Bill… kept on looking at the portal. Because...

...this wasn’t going to be the first time that he’d held hands with Bill since their doomed and terrible deal. He’d held hands with him once already, on the boat, after that horrible nightmare. He’d done it a _second_ time, in the basement of Mr. Harman’s house ~~(and it occurred to him to wonder, had Bill given _him_ a phone, too?)~~, though Bill had rather tricked him into it, then.

It would be the height of stupidity on his part to try and protest it all _now_. Because if Bill was going to _try_ anything...

...at least in this respect, then he would have done it down in that basement a few days ago.

So Ford pulled in a sharp breath, and he threaded his right hand around Bill’s left.

~~And he tried very hard not to think about both how _right_ , and how utterly _wrong_ it felt. Five fingers instead of four, and no flame to be seen...~~

He half-expected to light up blue again. He’d been bracing himself for it.

It didn’t happen though.

"Okay, time to go," Stan said, and Ford took that as his cue and started walking forward, and Stan--

\--Stan did too, but then they had to stop.

Because Bill hadn’t moved forward with them.

"Kid?" Ford heard Stan say, as Ford turned back to face him, and he preemptively braced himself, already expecting a terrible laugh, or a too-wide grin with gleaming eyes, hands about to burst up in flame and who-knew what else, as Bill taunted them. Told them that no, they weren’t going back, how stupid were they to think that he would _do_ that, just _let them go_ off and--?!

Bill wasn’t moving. He was not-quite at arm's length, and hadn’t moved from his spot.

Bill was still staring directly at the portal surface. The triangle demon looked pale in the combination of the moonlight and the light of the portal, and...

...Ford suddenly realized that he could feel a tremor in his hands, and it _wasn’t_ coming from him.

"It’s fine, kid. Take your time," he heard Stan say lowly, and then...

...then, as Ford saw Bill seem to move his shoulders oddly, as Bill continued staring at the portal surface...

...as Bill swallowed and seemed to manage to take one single step forward...

(... _managed?_...)

Ford had to force himself to remain expressionless as Bill Cipher, one of the most -- if not _the_ most -- terrifying forces in all of the multiverse, wide and far-ranging and weird--

\-- _managed_ to seem to build up enough _steam_ with squared shoulders and a growing steely look in his eye to _walk his way up to the portal_.

And as he and Stan both turned in unison, to move along with him -- to _not give the demon an excuse to slow himself down or stop moving_ \-- Ford remembered how they’d gotten there.

Miz had made the portal that had gotten them there. Bill had outright _taunted_ her into changing it from one they could step _through_ , into one that they would fall down _into_ , instead.

The portal they’d walked through into that ‘anti-Bill’s dimension had been like an open archway -- no blue and rippling surface, just air. _Permanent_ , until taken down by Bill alone, and immutable otherwise.

Ford could still feel the tremor in Bill’s hand come and go. Stronger and weaker. It wasn’t going away.

The demon hadn’t reacted much differently the last time he’d created this portal, Ford realized, and Bill wasn’t afraid of the dimension that he was re-entering or the people within it, Ford knew that much. Which meant...

Bill was _afraid_ of walking through portals.

~~_Why?_ ~~

~~_Was this why Bill had wanted to go through it last? Wanting to avoid showing any fear, any weakness of his? So that none of them would **see** this, to know that--_ ~~

...Bill wasn’t slowing down now, though. They all had enough momentum going now, that...

Ford glanced off to his side, gave the Stan O’ War one last look as they all stepped through the portal, together.

\----

The portal push and pull was nothing Ford was not used to, other than the hand-holding. They walked through, stepping into and beyond the surface of the mechanism of their interdimensional travel, and…

Ford felt a terribly far too familiar sensation upon exit from the portal, and he’d barely sucked in the breath to start cursing, as they began to fall.

" _ **BILL!!!**_ " Ford yelled, with his death-grip on the demon’s hand, because curse the triangle demon, he’d said _where_ and _when_ , but not _how far up_ , and--!!

\--Ford felt the breath fly out of him with a cough, as he hit a jiggling surface below him with force, Bill’s "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" of ringing laughter in his ears, but cutting off just as abruptly at and with his own outrush of breath.

It took him a few gasping breaths, and a similar number of moments to realize that the heaving colorful surface that he was on was a…

"GRUNKLE STAN! GRUNKLE FORD!" Mabel screamed as she entered Ford’s vision and almost immediately tackled him, and Ford lost at the air in his lungs again with a ‘whoof’.

Ford had never been more relieved to discover himself breathless in his life. He couldn’t stop the smile, and barely held back the tears.

He didn’t know when he let go of Cipher, to grab up his grand-niece in a two-armed hug, but he only really realized that he’d done it after he had to move one arm away from Mabel, to wrap it around Dipper, in order to return his grand-nephew’s own hug.

Stan let out a slow breath, and slowly let go of the kid’s hand himself, hiding a wince as he slowly pushed himself up. He nearly had a heart attack at the sudden drop -- and then _again_ when they’d all hit the surface of the bounce house -- but he was otherwise fine.

Stan watched the niblings with Ford, and left them to it. He looked around and saw that it was getting close to nighttime here, the sun working its way farther down. Summertime sunset. He looked back over at the niblings, and saw that they were in the same clothing -- the both of them. So, probably still the same night. --Good. Nice to know that the kid hadn’t been lying, and _could_ back up that whole time-traveling portal thing when he needed to. Would have been damn bad to have left the kids alone much longer than a couple minutes or so.

"See? I told you I’d bring them back." Miz said, bouncing off the bounce house (where she’d been waiting for them) and blinking as she stared at the Miz collapsed on the ground. Oh right. She’d left this vessel behind when she’d used the local Door to get to her brother. She nudged the empty vessel with a foot, wondering what to do with it. Not eat it, Ford would get all upset at her if she did that. With a shrug, and realizing that it might be useful to have a vessel lying around for her to use in case of emergencies, Miz converted the vessel into a stuffed animal of a dragon and tucked it under her arm beside Iseblonker. She could leave it upstairs in Bill’s room, to use as a backup vessel if she needed it.

Once Bill had slid along the surface of the bounce house and out of the way far enough, Ford let go of Mabel briefly to reach over and pull Stan into the family hug himself, leaving Dipper and Mabel between them, both gripping onto both of their grunkles tightly.

Ford slowly slumped in place in relief, trying not to tear up at seeing that they were both really and truly fine.

Bill, now with his two feet on the ground again, was closing the portal that was above and behind them.

And as soon as he’d finished waving the portal closed, it wasn’t a half-second later that a loud horrible screeching sound intermixed with ringing and several other noises went off in Bill’s back pocket.

Bill froze in place for a moment, then whipped out his phone.

"...Kid?" Stan said slowly, as he and the rest of his immediate family looked over at the demon-kid, who was expressionless as he worked something with the screen, froze in place again, then did something else and started to flick, and flick, and flick his fingers against the screen, scrolling on _something_ \--

"Kid, is there a _problem_ ," Stan demanded to know, starting to push himself away from the niblings and Ford.

Stan was almost to the edge of the bouncy house when Bill stopped, and _finally_ blinked (the kid hadn’t done that since he’d started staring at the phone, damnit), and then...

...the kid tapped it a few times, closed his eyes and put it away.

"Kid, talk to me," Stan said, because there were only two sets of people the kid talked to on that thing that might cause a reaction like that, and one of them was standing on the ground right next to them. Which meant… "There some problem coming our way?"

"Did you just get all your notifications all at once?" Miz asked.

"It’s not our problem, it’s _theirs_ ," the kid said to Stan tersely, putting his phone away. "And yes, little sis, I did. Somewhat." The kid slowly reopened his eyes and glanced over at Stan again. "They _didn’t_ …" The kid had a grim grimace going. "It’s fine," the kid said finally. "The fight is not coming here _anytime soon_ , and the events that could have happened _could_ have gone worse than reported." But when the kid looked over at him, Stan couldn’t help but stare back, then finish sliding his way off of the bouncy house and back onto his own two feet.

"...Why ain’t I feeling better at hearing that," Stan said slowly. He’d recognized that the kid had gotten less and less happy about what had been going on with those folks overall over time -- even if there had been some major ups and downs with what the kid was reading back from them from time to time -- but...

"Because the signal cut out and I can’t reach them anymore!" Bill said, sounding irritated in the extreme. (...Yeah, okay. Stan was starting to get what the problem was for the demon-kid now.) "I wasn't able to locate them before that happened. --The ones you would be more worried about are alive and no longer being directly threatened, as of last communication received," Bill said, looking away from him. "But I don’t have enough information about the situation to know how long they’ll stay that way." And the kid sounded disgusted about that.

Stan pulled in a breath, then let it out slowly.

"Yeah, okay," Stan said tersely, then patted the kid on the head. "...Hey. Best anybody could hope for. Right?" Last he’d heard from the kid, those other younger-them people had been running some kinda death gauntlet, almost. Hearing that they were all ‘not directly threatened’ anymore was insane-triangle-speak for ‘that Bill isn’t trying to kill them anymore’.

"For now…" Bill said, not meeting his gaze.

Stan let out a sigh, then let his hand fall. ...And at the looks he was getting from his family, he said, "Kid told me a little more about the folks on the other end of that thing, and how he was talkin’ with them. --The whole line was unstable," he told Ford for his benefit. "Signal cutting out was somethin’ we kinda expected to happen, sooner or later. Don’t worry about it."

Ford continued on frowning, but Stan wasn’t about to get into it. The kid had confirmed that there was no ‘Bill Cipher that was maybe crazier than him’ that he ‘couldn’t understand’ coming their way, that those other thems hadn’t died, and that nobody was in danger of getting blown up or murdered by a crazy triangle demon anytime soon. That was enough for Stan right now; more than, even. (Hell, they could talk about the rest later, when they weren’t all dead-tired as anything-- and, y’know, when Ford and the kids weren’t right next to them listening in, breathing down their necks.)

"Grunkle Ford, are you okay?" Mabel asked him. "Why did the portal close?" Then she gasped and looked a little worried. "I didn’t _hit_ you with my grappling hook, did I?" she asked, starting to look over the side of his head. "Or Grunkle Stan?"

"--No, no," Ford hurried to reassure her, as they all slowly slid their way over to the edge of the bouncy house. "You didn’t hit either of us with your grappling hook, my dear."

" _Good,_ " Mabel said, giving him another hug at his side.

Miz walked back over and poked Mabel’s shoulder to get her attention. "Here’s the other end of your grappling hook." She handed it to Mabel. She'd ask later if Mabel wanted it fixed.

Mabel looked over and after a long moment, nodded and took the offered item. "...thanks."

Miz looked around for her discarded magic nullifying cuffs and frowned. "Where’d they go…"

They hadn’t been gone long, just a few minutes at most. And shouldn’t they be dropped right next to her body?

Eh… it was fine even if the cuffs got lost. She'd scanned them, wouldn't be hard to recreate them.

Bill glanced around at the ground when he heard what his sister had muttered, and then over at Pine Tree and Shooting Star…

Bill didn’t say anything, or seem to see anything, though. And after looking around a little more, Miz shrugged and waved her hand, building herself a new set of cuffs. Then she thought about it and modified them into a different material. The metal was heavy and uncomfortable. So she made it into smooth wood instead. Still magnetic clasps, same effect, but this time with the runes necessary for it built right into the wood grain.

Miz twitched when the clasps clicked on and she felt a part of her very being sealed away. Always felt weird when that happened. She didn’t like all the seals and binds she had to wear, but it _did_ bring down her hyperactivity a little bit. And it made the humans more comfortable. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to hiding parts of herself just to make other people like her. It’s why she went around making up her different Personas after all.

She shrugged off the missing cuffs, and started walking towards the Shack, wanting back inside. Leave the humans to their reunion. She was a little tired. And the sooner she went to bed, the sooner it would be tomorrow and she'd get to play DDNMD! Plus...

Miz reached back to take Bill's hand; her brother had followed almost immediately after her, and with his longer legs, he’d caught up to her quickly. The older demon was swaying a little as he walked, though. The modifications to the boat that he'd helped her with, and the portal and further work he’d had to do with the dimension before leaving it, had all taken a lot out of him. (Even though the portal had taken less energy to open this time with the way he’d set it up the first time, he’d still needed to put out slightly more of an energy expenditure than that would have taken alone, for what he’d had to do with that dimension, in tying up loose ends here and there before he’d left.)

Miz glanced back at him, noticing this as they slowly made their way up the stairs to the attic, and she resolved to make him an extra nutritious breakfast tomorrow. "Is Lee going to he okay?" she asked quietly.

Bill stretched slightly in place, as he thought about how he might want to reply to his curious little sister on this one.

"If you want to know, you can See for yourself," he told her finally, as they continued ascending the next staircase. "I didn’t lock out Sight before we left, just Incoming Travel." (Bill generally didn’t lock out Sight from any place he had or claimed Ownership of -- not very often -- since he wouldn’t put it past another demon to figure out how _he_ did it from too many example-cases just lying around. He doubted most demons even knew that was possible to do; he _certainly_ didn’t want to give any of them a possible incentive to do so!)

Miz nodded. "I hope he feels better. He seemed kinda upset."

"Mm." Bill didn’t feel much more than ambivalent about it one way or the other, really. Interested in seeing Lee’s reactions after the fact, definitely! But Bill didn’t particularly care _what_ those specific reactions were; right now, he had no reason to, and no investment in him.

"Remind me to add you to the ‘exceptions’ whitelist for this dimension tomorrow," Bill told Miz, though even the act of saying it out loud to her would be enough for him to remember it as important first-thing upon waking, even if he might still be tired and hungry at the time (and thus potentially prone to logic errors at that point). He’d have done it right away earlier, but he knew that he was too tired to do it tonight. ...And he’d be too tired still even tomorrow to change things to allow her Travel access to every other human dimension that existed in his own ‘set here so far. Just in case she might want it.

"Alright, any special requests for breakfast tomorrow?" Miz asked him as they both made it up the final set of stairs and into the attic. She pulled out her hat, where she had a bunch of different spices and ingredients from the many shopping trips she’d gone on to use up the money from her earring sales in that other dimension. (Couldn't give them to the twins, so she’d had to use them up.) Getting permission from Stan to cook for her brother was delightful.

Bill shrugged, walked over closer to the window, sat down on the floor of the attic, pulled out and flipped open his eyepatch into his own hat, and then upended it over one of ‘Miz’s pillows. (He’d basically given her the few -- read: two -- pillows he’d had up here from the bed in Stanley’s room downstairs, the first night that she’d come up here. Though, from the look in Miz's eyes, she was probably going to be adding her own pillows from inside her sandcastle to the bedding up in Bill's room. Bill was fine with that. Whatever made his little sister more comfortable here.)

Tired as he was, his Mind was being more impacted by the state of his body than usual, and the connection he had to his human-ish brain had sunken in rather low indeed. And because of this, Bill Cipher’s body’s brain had not-quite misfired and sent along a not-so-usual output for his thought process for him to his Mind (a ‘logic error’, as he called it). And thus the demon made the rather nonlinear connection between ‘Miz wanting to cook breakfast the next morning for him’, to ‘Miz liking and wanting ingredients to cook with in general’.

So Bill closed his eyes, let out a few soft clicks and clacks, and a few food items fell out of his hat and onto the pillow; three were clearly not Earth-grown, but one was a bundle of ears of fresh corn. Miz blinked, and scooped them all up, looking them over, and Bill paused, thinking -- he REALLY needed to catalog everything in that one dimension of his that his hat was currently connected to at some point in the near-future, instead of having to scan through his own memories of putting things into it consecutively -- and then made another set of slightly different clicking noises, and a few _more_ food items popped out...

Bill did this a few more times, with Miz scooping up the ingredients each time to look at them, until Bill’s eyes drooped, and the older triangle demon of the pair announced, "I’M TIRED…"

...and Bill promptly flipped his hat back into an eyepatch, shoved it into his pocket, and then slumped over sideways onto the floor, ready to sleep.

Miz giggled. "Ok." She put the food away for now and pulled out some more pillows and blankets -- the ones she’d made for the sandcastle at the boat -- before snuggling down beside her brother. "I'll make you something yummy tomorrow." She yawned as she shifted a little to get comfortable.

"Mmm…" Bill hummed out, already almost half-asleep. He had his hat back now, and all the ingredients and edible food items in the dimension connected to it. So when Miz brouggght up yummy food, he made yet another nonlinear connection to: "I should make better teeeeea…" he trailed off as he drifted off into a deep sleep.

Miz smiled at Bill's sleeping face. "Good night Brother." She sighed as she closed her own eyes. They were back (sort of) home. She didn't have to be near that Mini-Ford anymore. That was… nice...

\---

Stan got himself, Ford and the niblings back inside the Shack. "Ugh… I'm so tired," Stan complained. Mabel was still holding onto him, afraid to let go. Stan had one arm draped around her. "Hey, sorry it took us so long. A couple things, y’know, came up."

...So long? "How long has it been?" Dipper narrowed his eyes, picking up on Stan's tone and Ford's weary expression. They seemed drained. And Great-Uncle Ford looked really… sad.

"Uh…" Grunkle Stan exchanged a glance with Great-Uncle Ford, then looked down at Dipper, and...

"It’s been a little over a week for us," Great-Uncle Ford told him. (Ford didn’t like how Dipper was frowning up at them, looking at the as though he was expecting them to lie. And at the look of alarm that both niblings got at his news, Ford quickly explained.) "--We’re fine, we were just…" He almost glanced over at Grunkle Stan, then looked away. "Taking care of our younger dimensional counterparts," he ended, to both Mabel’s and Dipper’s surprise. "You don’t have to worry about them, now. We left them both quite well off."

"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmy _gosh!_ " Mabel said at about a hundred miles an hour, squishing her own cheeks with her hands, eyes shining. "Did you fix the science fair thing! Did you kick their demon butts for messing it up! -- _Were there ice cream sandwiches and parties involved_ when Younkle Ford got into college?"

Grunkle Stan winced. So did Great-Uncle Ford. And neither of them were looking at each other -- which even Dipper noticed.

"The demons didn’t do nothin' to the project, kids," Grunkle Stan told them. "It broke, and… well." He scratched at his cheek. "We ain’t really sure _why_ it broke this time, but... yeah. We, uh, we handled the aftermath."

Dipper rubbed a hand over his face and groaned out something about Wendy and carnival games, that Stan didn’t quite catch, though it had Ford looking at him askance. "--But are the teenage yous okay?" Mabel asked them almost anxiously. "I mean, really- _really_ okay?"

"Yeah," Stan told her, crouching down to place a hand on her shoulder, despite his fatigue. "They’re gonna be really-really okay," he told her, with a little bit of a smile. "Like Ford said. Me and Ford, we got ‘em all set up; no worries."

Dipper frowned. "Did Bill or Miz try to mess things up for the younger versions of you?"

"Bill gave Stan’s younger counterpart a _phone_ to call him with, if ever they run into trouble in the future that they may not be able to deal with," Ford told them all quietly. "He expressed his willingness to hand his own phone directly to Stan and without hesitation, should such a need arise."

"That’s, uh," Stan stared up at Ford, trying not to feel all… what was it called… _discombobulated_ at that little piece of information? He’d known that the kid had wanted to say something to his younger self that maybe he hadn’t wanted them to overhear, but… he hadn’t been expecting _that_. (He’d thought that maybe it would be something about ‘the saboteur’, or Carla, that the kid obviously didn’t want to tell either of _them_ , but that the kid had been ‘letting’ Miz get away with bringing up to Carla and their younger twin selves at school.) --Because that, right at the end there, would have been the only time that the kid really couldn’t gotten away with that, when the kid would have been alone with both Lee _and_ Ford, when Ford would’ve been watching and Stan wouldn’t have heard about it.

"...Kinda how most of it went," Stan told the kids slowly. "Bill wasn’t tryin’ to mess stuff up on purpose; kid just had a couple things he didn’t want to talk about to the rest of us, and he didn’t even kill nobody at school or nothin’," he told them. And while the kids were reeling from that one, Stan said next, "Hey Ford, maybe you wanna take this one, instead?" with an internal smile at the look Ford got on his face at that.

Ford frowned, unsure how to feel about everything they’d gone through. "Stan managed to convince both Bill and Miz to attend classes at the local high school with them," Ford began, trying to explain the ‘high school’ part to the niblings rather quickly, and with as little fanfare and alarm as possible. "Ostensibly in order to keep either of our younger dimensional counterparts from skipping any classes while we were settling things out for them with their living situation and their finances." Ford couldn’t help but send Stan a look at that one. He rather didn’t want to get into Stan’s second ‘bet’ with the dream demon right then and there in front of the niblings; they were both tired, and the questions that would result had the potential for keeping them _all_ up for the rest of the night. "The man-eater tried to give them several things to ‘help’ with their living situation -- and they accepted them, which was unwise," Ford noted. (Stan rolled his eyes.) "Miz built them a combination solar-powered washing machine and water purifier… and an air filtration device… among many other things… as we also did, to help to make the Stan O’ War a place where they could continue to live since they lost their home."

Stan winced at the worry the twins got at the ‘living situation’ part, and decided to take over at the horrified look the twins both got at the ‘lost their home’ bit. "--Look," said Stan, "I got ‘em a bunch of money -- legally, even! -- and me and Ford fixed up the Stan O’ War for them, made sure they could keep going to school, and even got the thing out on the water -- finished it off and made it into a real houseboat for them," he told Dipper and Mabel both, circling his arms around them. "They’re okay, the demons didn’t kill or torture nobody -- yeah, ‘as far as we know’, fine Ford -- and we’re all back in once piece. ...And, y’know, dead-tired, cause it was pretty late when we all jumped back, too. Just, y’know, a week later," Stan told the twins next. "So you think you could cut us both a break, and let us tell you the rest of everything about everything in the morning?"

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, and Mabel bit her lip.

"...Do you want us to sleep with you tonight?" Mabel asked them both seriously, though she was looking more at Ford when she said it.

"Uh, well," Stan began, rubbing at the back of his neck. (He wasn’t really feeling like having another sleep session in the living room, or sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor of Ford’s bedroom, when his own bedroom was just right down the other hallway. He’d been kinda looking forward to sleeping in a decent bed, once they’d got back. Not least of which _because_ of his back, ugh. But if this was gonna make the kids feel better about everything...)

"I wouldn’t mind if Stan slept in my room with me tonight, but I think you two would be safe in your room upstairs, unless you feel unsafe and would like to sleep with us in my room also," Ford said quietly, not quite looking at any of them.

Stan blinked at this. "Uh, sure," Stan said. "We can do the bunk across the cabin thing again." He didn’t really mind. They’d done it on the boat, and the Stan O’ War II, and...

...Stan saw the niblings give each other a look, and then Dipper said, "We’re not afraid of Bill or Miz." And when Mabel smiled and told them, "We’ll be upstairs if you need us!" Stan started to get the feeling that something was going on with his brother that he hadn’t picked up, but that maybe the kids almost definitely had.

He got himself a couple of hugs from the niblings -- which he, of course, grumbled about as usual, with the biggest of smiles on his face -- and he took his time slowly standing up while he waited for the kids to finish giving Ford a pair of twin hugs, too.

The kids made their way upstairs, and then...

Then it was him and Ford.

Ford gave him a glance, and then turned on his heel and started walking for his bedroom. -- _Ford’s_ bedroom, not his.

...Right, because the kid would have to give permission for Ford to be sleeping in Stan’s -- and his -- bedroom. Y’know, the one which actually had two beds in it. Not that Ford would probably want to be sleeping in either his bed or the kid’s bed, anyway. _Great._ ...Well, he’d really stepped in it this time, hadn’t he.

Stan sighed, but then kind of shrugged it off, and followed his brother down the hallway.

It wasn’t until Stan had followed him in, and Ford had closed the door behind him, that Stan realized something a hell of a lot bigger was up, because he hadn’t had more than a breath to turn to Ford and say, "So…" to start asking after how the hell they were gonna manage this with one bed and a couch that Stan kind of didn’t really want to be sleeping on because of his back, when he practically got the breath knocked outta him for the third time that night, for the hug that Ford was giving him now.

Ford’s thoughts were in a complete and utter disarray. He’d learned too many terrible things today. The fact that his science project had been wrong, and that Stan had known and simply _never said anything_ because he’d assumed for whatever reason that his own doubts must have been wrong, because… Because Stan thought Ford was brilliant and he must have gotten it right, and Stan himself must’ve gotten it wrong? Not to mention the horror of finding out that Stan had _really_ , truly believed that their parents _wouldn’t_ have taken him back, even if he’d come back that night after being thrown out, or at any time after. That Stan thought that Pa would have just thrown him out all over again, back out onto the streets, if he’d tried. That Stan had thought their Ma wouldn’t have even _tried_ to defend him against their Pa. That she wouldn’t have thought that Stan was _worth_ it--

...that Stan even _now_ thought that he wasn’t worth anything...

\--that the reason why Stan had never come back home, had _left_ Ford all those years ago and never come back, ~~never even tried to contact him himself,~~ was because Stan had thought he wasn’t _wanted_ \--

It scared Ford, that he didn’t know what Stan might think of him, too. That Stan thought Pa and Ma wouldn’t have taken him back was… was terrible in and of itself, but it also begged the question of… did Stan think that _Ford_ would not have defended him, as well?

Ford self-admittedly had not thought much on the realities of living on the streets without a home, when he’d been younger. He’d thought Stan had been fine, would be fine; Stan had always been the one with plenty of friends, who’d always had a plan of some sort, who’d always seemed to land on his feet, one way or another. ...But Stan had not been fine, out on his own. Ford knew that now. ‘In jail in three different countries’, and a box full of fake IDs. The look of him when he’d shown up on his doorstep in the middle of that snowstorm...

Whatever Ford might have felt for his brother, no matter how angry he was at him for ruining his life so many years ago… he would not have wanted his brother to starve to death out on the streets. If Stan had come back home, or come to him begging for help… Ford would _not_ have been pleased with him, but he would have done it. ...Likely the bare minimum that could possibly be expected of him, as family, but… he would have done it.

He would have told his parents that it wasn’t right for Stan to be living in such danger, or left to be starving himself out on the streets. He would have taken him in, however unwillingly, into his house there in Gravity Falls, fed him, given him a cot to sleep on, called his parents, and then passed him along and back to his parents the first chance that he got, with a nonrefundable bus ticket (one that Stan wouldn’t be able to cash in and cash out on for cash money that he might be able to sell and spend on other things) and a ride to the bus stop to see him off (so that Stan’s choice would be going home or _nothing_ ).

He would have hated Stan for it, and hated himself for doing it…

~~(...because he'd be giving in and helping Stan when he knew Stan would just hurt him, all over again…)~~

~~(...because doing so, forcing Stan to leave again would have been the only way he had to protect himself from… from _anything else_ that Stan…)~~

~~(...because he _knew_ that giving in and letting Stan into his life again for even such a short period of time would damn near destroy him all over again, because he knew he wouldn't be able to stand it, having him around again, so he'd have to make him leave for his own sanity, yet forcing him away again would hurt him so damn much and he knew this, he'd know this going into it…)~~

...but… he would have done it.

He would have done it anyway.

If Stan had shown back up on the doorstep of the pawnshop, to darken it once again, begging forgiveness, begging for a second chance, even the _very next day_...

...Ford would have gritted his teeth and borne it, his parents’ decision to let Stan back in. But he would have moved himself and his things up into the attic. He would not have been able to fall asleep in the same room with him, as if nothing had changed irrevocably forever, as if nothing was horribly _wrong_. He would not have forgiven, or forgotten, no, but… he would _not_ have sabotaged Stan right back. He would _not_ have protested, said ‘no, what are you doing, toss him back out before he ruins us all _again_!’ or anything at all in like kind...

But Stan thought that his parents -- _their_ parents -- would have done that, when Ford himself was so very sure that they never, ever would. And if Stan thought _that_ of _them_ , still, _to this day_...

...And Stan had gone into the pawnshop to talk to their younger counterparts’ father. And Stan had said nothing to any of them about the words that had been exchanged there, not even a single one, since.

But he’d walked out of there with a piece of paper stating a transfer of guardianship for them both. Ford had seen a glimpse of that sheet of paper, and that handwriting. He’d seen their parents’ names forged on permission slips by Stan at the last minute for field trips before, and he also knew what their parents’ signatures actually looked like. And the signature on that piece of paper had been unmistakably been...

...The signature _s_ on that piece of paper had been...

Ford pulled in a shaky breath and hugged his brother even tighter. He’d thought that Stan had convinced their parents _somehow_ , because Stan was so _good_ at being so very convincing, after thirty years of being a successful tourist trap conman. But he knew what Stan sounded like when he was lying, and what he did when he wasn’t. And when Stan had said… about their _parents_ … and he’d said...

There had been no shaken faith there after having talked with them once again. Stan had been absolutely certain of what he’d said there, even after talking and meeting with them, then. It hadn’t been a question, or even an opinion; to Stan, it had just been a plain fact.

It had just been a fact.

\--Their parents had thrown Stan out of the house over a science fair project _that didn’t actually work, and never had_ , because it didn’t do what Ford had told them that it was supposed to do, broken or not. The reality of the situation had never been what Ford had thought it was or would be. And Stan...

"I’m sorry," Ford whispered out to his brother hoarsely, unable to keep the tears from falling anymore, as he hugged Stan even tighter. "I’m _sorry_ , Lee. I’m--"

"Shit, Ford. C’mon…" his brother said slowly, rubbing circles on his back, just as he hugged him back, even as Ford started to shake. "You’re tired as anything. So am I. --I ain’t mad now, and I ain’t gonna be mad in the morning, okay?" his brother added next, as Ford hugged him that much more tightly. "I ain’t been mad about it for a real long time, Ford," and Stan sounded nothing but quietly tired at that. "Let’s just get some rest, okay? Some real sleep? --We’re home, yeah?" Stan told him, letting out a breath, and still hugging him back. (And Ford was half-anxious about it, waiting for when he’d get annoyed ~~then _angry_~~ with him and push him away.) "We’re home. It’s okay, Ford. We’re home."

Ford didn’t remember if he’d ever stopped crying that night. What he did know was that Stan had managed to coax him over to the bed, and they ended up both falling asleep on it together, curled up in each others arms... like they’d used to do when they were kids, and Ford had had another nightmare again.

(The last time that he’d done that with Stan, he’d been twelve. By the time they’d turned thirteen, Stan had refused to do that for him anymore.)

And when Ford woke up the next morning, with aching eyes and Stan still curled up next to him in his arms, and looking somehow both ‘grumbly old man’ _and_ peaceful in his sleep, Ford felt a dizzy sort of uncertainty slowly envelop him.

(...Because if Stan was actually okay with doing this sort of thing for him now, to keep the nightmares away in his and their old age, then why had Stan been so insistent that Bill ‘fix things’ with whatever _connection_ they supposedly had, instead of simply deciding to fall asleep alongside him, instead? Didn't Stan still think he was such a bother, for wanting to be able to get in so close and actually just _hug_ him forever, sometimes?)

(...Or did Stan simply not _remember_ that yet? How much he didn’t like Ford doing that anymore? It didn’t happen often, not after that first week post-Weirdmageddon, but from time to time Stan would still get that very _particular_ frown, as he remembered something that he hadn’t quite had in his mind and his memories then, that he’d once had in them _before_.)

(And if Stan didn’t remember _that_ yet… how many times could Ford get away with doing this sort of thing before he did?)

Ford stared over at his brother, still sleeping and not-quite snoring, right in front of him, right next to him, and Ford slowly closed his aching, still slightly teary eyes.

(Maybe he was taking advantage of Stan in some way, doing this when Stan didn’t remember that he didn’t want Ford being all ‘babyish’ and ‘touchy-feely’ and ‘girly’ and such to him. But even though Ford knew it was wrong to do so, because he knew better, knew Stan’s clearly expressed wishes otherwise, from so many years ago, and repeated ad-nauseum multiple times, to Ford’s horror at the time… Ford still wanted to do it. He’d desperately _missed_ that closeness with his brother, his twin, long before Stan had begun to replace ‘twin’ with ‘brother’. Long before Stan had replaced those hugs with those odd and so out-of-place arm-grabs around his shoulders. --For picture-taking _only_ , and _only_ when Ford was doing something of note. It had made Ford feel sick, like he was suffocating almost in-reverse, his brother’s self-insertion into his life and then _immediate_ removal of it, so quickly and so sickeningly and obviously _not_ done for Ford’s own benefit or comfort that it had _hurt_ , every single time that Stan had done it.)

Stan didn’t seem… to hate it, though. Not right now; not anymore. Stan had done it himself a few times on the boat, that sort-of around-the-shoulder gesture. But it had felt _different_ that time -- those time _s_ that he’d done it, plural. When Ford had returned them -- trying neither to rush it nor overthink it -- they’d felt more like one-armed _hugs_ than anything, and…

_’Stan doesn’t seem to have any problem giving, taking, or receiving hugs from the niblings’_ , Ford realized, with that odd sleepy molasses slowness that was characteristic of one’s thinking after slowly waking up from a good night’s sleep, but still long before coffee was even a thought upon the distant horizon.

(Maybe, just maybe… Stan had changed over the years and didn’t mind it so much anymore? ...Yes. Perhaps that was it. His brother _had_ been through a lot. And Soos was rather huggy and, well, almost clingy at times. --More emotionally clingy than physically clingy, necessarily, but while Stan griped about it at times, he didn’t seem to actually _dislike_ it, necessarily. And while, most times, he refused to humor Soos by hugging him back -- just standing there and taking it with no aplomb whatsoever -- Stan _never_ actually _tried_ to shove Soos off of him, even though the Stan of Ford’s youthful memories _had_ done so to _him_. ...Maybe, perhaps, a small part of Stan had actually come to miss that closeness that Ford had so ~~desperately wanted and~~ missed for so very long, too? Ford hoped this was the case…)

Ford’s thoughts turned around, and around, in slow circles at this. And, despite the waking hour, and the sunlight that was beginning to stream through the curtains over the windows…

Ford slowly fell asleep once again, one hand still entwined in one of Stan’s own, one arm still thrown over his brother’s side, just below his shoulder.

And even as his breathing evened out, Ford still felt like crying all over again.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Finally done with this mini-arc, back to the main crossover story.... sorta...  
> Also, I just realized some of you haven't actually read the fic that BlueBill comes from.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/series/861064  
> Here you go.
> 
> **My AN:**  
> ...Am I evil? Why, _yes._ Yes, I am. *eg*
> 
> (Was that even a question at this point? *g*)


	24. Chapter 92: It’s very confusing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Dungeons, dungeons and MORE dungeons!  
> But without the brain-eating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 105 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/47413966). It was first posted on Jul 29, 2019.

\---

The next morning at breakfast, during which Miz cooked a large spiced vegetable medley -- with chopped nuts, corn, carrots, potatoes and some alien plants that Dipper didn't recognize - for her brother and herself, Dipper and Mabel grilled their grunkles about everything that happened during that week that they’d missed out on, while the portal had been closed before opening again.

"You really sent Bill to _high school_?!" Dipper gasped out He'd thought he must've misunderstood Great-Uncle Ford the night before -- they'd all been tired, and Dipper couldn't imagine him being okay with Bill doing that, when he didn't even want the triangle demon going into town! Stan chuckled while Bill made an annoyed chittering sound in between bites of his breakfast.

"No, seriously," Dipper said next, super-worried about this. "Why would you even _do_ that?" he asked his grunkle and great-uncle both. "--How many people died?"

"None," Bill said. "Zero people died from my attending that school. \--No thanks to _Sixer_ , here," Bill muttered out next, shooting Ford a rather flat look (and Ford looked away, not quite wincing).

" _Seriously?_ " Dipper said skeptically, while Mabel was giving Bill an intense look -- which the dream demon was avidly avoiding, while also trying not to _look_ like he was avoiding it at the same time.

"Bill and Miz both attended," Stan told them both. "Had a bet with Bill about whether he could survive the week without killing anybody, and he did. Miz had a mission to make sure the younger set didn’t try skipping out on school again; she managed that too." Speaking of which... "--Good job there, Miz."

_Both the twins looked over at Bill and Miz now, as Bill started patting-petting Miz on the head (for Stanley, to go with the ‘good job’, since Miz was out of arm’s reach of Stanley right then). Because, seriously? Two demons at a human high school? **Together?** _At the same time?!?_ Dipper didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the idea._

Miz giggled. "It was fun! And~" She leaned in to grin at Mabel. "Despite their utter fear of him, I actually noticed a few of the kids there… _crushing_ on Bill," she mock-whispered.

Mabel gasped at this news and then started making a sound only dogs should be able to hear.

Bill, for his part, sputtered at this news and straightened up where he was sitting in shock. " _WHAT?!_ "

Miz nodded sagely, having overheard ALL sorts of thoughts coming out from the kids around the school (as well as some of the both terrified AND intrigued expressions people made when looking at Bill, whom they all thought was a teenage girl). "There were some girls who thought he was ‘really cool’ after he beat up Crampelter -- that guy preyed on lots of girls at the school -- and a few guys who were like ‘I want to be stepped on by her’--" Miz was cut off by Bill stuffing one of the pancakes Stan had made for everyone into her mouth.

Bill’s right left eye was twitching as he pulled his hand back away from his sister, having achieved said ‘shut up for a minute’ objective via temporary rolled-up pancake insertion into said little sister’s mouth. The older demon’s shoulders came up and his eyes narrowed in annoyance at the thought that there had been humans getting squirmy feelings for _him_. UGH.

Stan was muffling his laughter, holding his mug of coffee up to hide it a bit. Mabel was still squealing, while her brother looked a little green.

...Ford also looked a little horrified by this apparent fact.

Miz chewed and swallowed the pancake and pouted at Bill. "What? I think it was kinda cute."

"No! It’s STUPID!" Bill told her. "None of them are my _type!_ " he snarled out. "I was giving _none_ of those human ‘sex signals’ out," Bill told her. "No pheromones, no open-display posture, no gesticulations, no verbal social cues, _NONE_. --That should NOT have happened," the triangle demon grumbled out, before shoving another forkful of vegetables into his mouth, and crunching down _hard_ on them, while making an annoyed and rather ugly chittering sound. (He prided himself on effective communication, and the idea that maybe he _hadn't_ been… He was going to have to review his bodysuit’s sensor history for this now, to see what Miz might be referring to, and he was NOT looking forward to doing so.)

Miz shrugged. "From what I’ve seen, people tend to get crushes on other people whether or not the other party is interested…" she deliberately did _not_ give Dipper a teasing look about Wendy. "Well, it was a fun week. I haven’t been in school for a really long time. It was so weird to be back." She frowned a little. "A lot of guys were crushing on me too. But it was less of a crush and more lust. I think the only guy who was legitimately crushing on me was Ben." Huh. Actually, she should go ask Mary how Ben was doing. He seemed like a very sweet boy.

Stan raised an eyebrow at her. "So, you’re okay with this Ben guy crushing on you?" Weird, he’d thought she was oblivious to that sort of thing, what with her friend having told her he loved her not registering at all.

Miz shrugged. "I was in the form of a very voluptuous young woman. And I was friendly with him. It wasn’t a serious crush, he was just happy, and a little terrified, that someone like me was paying attention to him." she pointed out. Dipper frowned. "Wait, voluptu-what?"

And Miz activated her cybersuit’s hologram function to make herself appear to be in her older form.

...and Dipper went bright red and slapped his hands over his eyes. "AAAAAAH!! TURN BACK! TURN BACK!!"

Miz dismissed the hologram with a confused look. "Huh? Wasn’t the reaction I was expecting?" She wondered if maybe Dipper was afraid of sudden shapeshifting. He might have trauma from that shapeshifter after all...

Meanwhile, on Dipper’s end, his poor teenaged hormones were rearing their ugly heads and the boy just wanted to crawl into a hole. Those curves! This was so messed up!

On the other hand, Mabel was nodding sagely. "Ooooooooh. O~kay. --Girl, I can see why that Ben guy was so smitten!" she said with utter seriousness and a head nod.

Stan’s snort was badly hidden behind a bite of pancake. Ford was rubbing his face with a hand. He rather understood what problem his grand-nephew was going through just then, and felt a great sympathy for him.

Luckily, the breakfast conversation was quickly steered away from that, moving from high school shenanigans on to what the twin’s favorite grunkles had been doing during the day themselves. (--Spoiler alert: it had mostly been making money and fixing up the boat.)

Ford talked about the kitchen he’d wired up by moving the solar panels from some of Miz’s machines to the deck (and Miz’s machines to the lower deck themselves), and rediverting their power to be able to run and charge other things -- such as the bank of fuel cells added to the lower deck as well, which he’d made from a few other things he’d found at some of the hardware stores and also the town dump. Stan himself talked up the long list of things he’d done to earn more money from the suckers along the boardwalk, and explained the Con they’d pulled off with Dragon-Miz.

The four of them all carefully avoided talking about all the… other stuff that had happened, though -- the sorts of things that would have upset the twins (and _had_ upset the two older ones). Miz didn’t bring up Carla; Ford didn’t bring up the science project. Stan didn’t bring up anything about who was thrown out of the house and who wasn’t, or any and all of the rest of it. Bill kept quiet on all of that, and then some.

Eventually, they all finished talking their way through the (sanitized version of the) vents that the niblings had missed, and also their respective breakfasts. Miz helped with clean up -- claiming that she’d used the plates and pans for cooking, so she should clean them. Stan saw no problem with that; he usually let the kid help out, and he didn’t mind having Miz help him with it this time, instead.

As soon as she’d finished (quickly) cleaning up ‘her’ plates and such from breakfast, though -- and Stan finished up the rest -- Miz almost immediately asked (before anyone had really left the kitchen table), "Can we play Dungeons, Dungeons, And More Dungeons today?"

Stan chuckled at this. "Well, if the niblings want to play that old nerd game with you... I don't see why not." The kid had managed to do that with the niblings a couple times by this point without any major issues, so he didn’t see why Miz not being able to do the same.

Ford twitched, having thought that Stan hadn't been serious about that when he’d brought it up in the other dimension. Mabel looked at Miz in surprise and the beginnings of excitement (but then hesitated and glanced over at Bill), and Dipper...

Dipper lit up with a smile that rivalled a Pines family fireworks display on a summertime ‘family fun day’!

...at least, he did for the first second there. Then he got over the initial happy rush of someone expressing interest in his favorite game of all time, and frowned at Miz suspiciously. When he realized she didn’t seem to be making fun of or joking at him, he glanced over at Bill for a moment, and then looked over at Ford with a complicated expression.

"I can DM. I do that with my friends back home," Miz said as she bounced in place, capturing Dipper's attention again.

_That_ left Dipper wincing though, and immediately looking to Great-Uncle Ford again, worried at what his reaction might be.

"--Absolutely _not_ ," Ford said quellingly. "You are not DMing anything!" he told the man-eating demon. Because if there was one thing Ford was absolutely certain of, it was that giving a demon free-rein at doing _anything_ that left them ‘in charge’ of anyone -- let alone with clearly and openly more power than you did over the situation at hand -- was an absolute and unmitigated _disaster_ \--

\--Stan shot Ford a long look. "Miz ain’t Bill, Ford," Stan told his brother. "And having Dipper tryin’ to roll up a bunch of new characters and other stuff so she can play with everybody in some kinda last-minute one-off game is gonna be a huge hassle, takin’ forever," because he knew that Dipper didn’t have anything that he’d consider ‘workable’ ready right now for something like that, given how the kid played the game, right then, "And sidetrack the whole thing he’s got going on there, with that ‘current campaign’ or whatever," Stan told Ford, which his brother ought to already know, if he thought about it for two seconds. Besides…

"If she’s offering to DM, I’m thinking she already has something or another already worked up that might be usable," because most nerds didn’t do that unless they did. Stan looked over at Miz for a second. "And I’m thinkin’ that maybe I’d like to see how she does it," he said next, waving his hand at his brother. (He’d learned a _lot_ about the kid by watching how he’d played the thing with the lot of them. ...And he was pretty sure that Dipper and Mabel had, too.)

Ford went a little stiff, and a little still.

"...That is not a good idea, Stan," Ford said slowly.

"Nah," Stan said. "I’m thinkin’ it might be a _great_ idea," he told his brother, "Just so long as we get a couple things straight first, and all the ground rules agreed-on before anybody goes jumpin’ into anything feet-first," Stan told him with a chuckle, before turning back to Miz. "Will there be any brain eating in this game? ‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we’d all like our brains to stay where we usually keep ‘em," he half-joked. Stan was relatively sure Miz wouldn’t do anything like that, but, y’know, better safe with demons than sorry.

Miz shook her head. "It’ll just be a board game. No shrinking players down and making them actually fight the monsters or anything like that," she assured him. (Yeah, guess she'd looked into them all enough with that 'magic eye' of hers to have seen what all had happened last summer then. Good to know.) Stan nodded.

"Yeah, good. --Better check your rulesets and variations, though," Stan said. "Make sure everybody’s on the same page, and all that."

Ford looked like he wanted to protest but Stan gave him a flat look. "Ford, it’s just a nerd game. In fact, it’s _your_ nerd game. There’s no reason not to let the kids go off and have a little fun," Stan told him next, and Ford bristled.

"You shouldn’t ever play a game with a _demon_ , there are _always_ stakes involved--" Ford reiterated, yet again.

"--and we can play it with the same stakes we do with the kid, which is for _information_ ," Stan told him next, as he shuffled over to the fridge to pull out a soda. "That sound good to you, Miz?" he asked, then waited for a nod out of her before turning back to Ford. "I want to see how she plays it. And I’m thinking the kids might, too. --We’re gonna work this all out, before anybody agrees to it or even throws the first dice roll," Stan told his brother next. Just the same as they had with the kid.

"You can sit this out if you don’t want to play," Miz told him. She didn’t look very happy as she said it, though. "Do you _have_ to always assume everything I do is automatically evil?" she complained. "I could be collecting seashells on the beach and you’d be wondering what nefarious plots I’m planning with them!" and Ford had to stifle a twitch, because he _had_ been eyeing up the pile of seashells and rocks that Miz had slowly been adding to over the last week in an out of the way corner of the boat’s deck. Said shells had been placed inside her own _Hat_ along with that sandcastle before they’d left, too. Ford didn’t know where they were now, though; he hadn’t seen them since.

\--And _of course_ he was going to ‘sit this one out’, because: "I _don’t_ play games with demons!" Ford objected to her tersely. "And _you_ are a demon, who claims to be an alternate version of Bill Cipher," Ford said, pointing at said local triangle demon, "Fully _admitting_ that you are **trying** to be more like him yourself, attempting to emulate both his thoughts and his behavior! --Why would you think I would _ever_ want to ‘play a game’ with _**you?!?!**_ " the older scientist ground out at her, not pleased with Miz in the least.

Miz actually looked a little hurt by this admission. Dimensional counterpart or not, they weren’t the same entity. "I just wanted to play DD&MD…" she said quietly. "And just because I’m _a_ Bill Cipher, doesn’t mean we’re exactly the same. You’re nothing like that younger Ford after all…"

"Ford--" Stan said quickly, because he knew this was gonna get ugly real fast now. (Bill glanced between them both.)

He was too late.

Ford felt a bolt of outrage course through him, and he shot to his feet. (‘Shit’, thought Stan.) " _You have told all of us **yourself** that you are **trying** to be **more like** the triangle demon who **tormented me for years** \--_"

"Because ‘Bill Cipher’ has a role in the world. How do you think Gravity Falls even formed?" Miz fisted her hands in her shirt. (The kids started to lean away from them both.) "There are things I need to do to ensure the plot moves along properly as it should…"

\--And Miz stopped and jolted in place as Ford slammed his hands down onto the table in front of him, looking absolutely irate. "--There is _NO ROLE_ in this world -- _or any other_ \-- for a being of MASS DESTRUCTION and sheer CHAOS to have to play!" he yelled out at her. "Not _least_ of which was _just proven_ by the very _existence_ of the dimension that we just exited last night, a dimension that had _no Bill Cipher in it, EVER!!_ " Ford told her next, adding insult to injury -- and _meaning_ to. (Bill’s eyes narrowed at him, down to almost to the thinnest of slits, and his shoulders shifted and jaw worked for a moment… before settling down only _slightly_ again, which Dipper and Mabel both noticed and had them starting to look alarmed...)

"I don’t plan to torment _my_ Ford once I have one! As long as I can get things to happen as Ax and Time Baby want, I’m free to use my own methods to get there…" Miz trembled. "And I _don’t_ want to hurt anyone if I can avoid it. But Dad told me that--"

"--STOP," Bill said abruptly, and Miz looked startled and stopped talking. Bill had his hands steepled in front of him. (Dipper and Mabel quickly exchanged sideways glances.)

"Miz, _one minute_ ," Bill told his sister (as that Stanford bristled right in front of him), then Bill turned his head slightly, to look over at-- "Stanley," he said next, "Is this _lack of consensus_ progressing in the same way as the first loud discussion _that Stanford_ had with my little sister at dinner the first night she was staying with us as my sister here?" Bill said cooly.

_’...Well, shit,’_ Stan thought, internally impressed, because he hadn’t thought the demon-kid would have caught that one on his own. (Kid _also_ looked like he was practically biting his tongue on something he _really_ wanted to say, too. This was definitely new.)

Externally, Stan had a bit of a frowning scowl going on -- that he was directing at Ford and Miz, _not_ the kid -- as he said, "Yeah, kid. This _fight_ that’s going on here, tossin’ a whole bunch of mental attacks back and forth during the whole thing, is sure goin’ downhill pretty quickly." (And hey, ‘nice try’ at trying to call this whole thing something that it wasn’t. Stan wasn’t about to let _that_ one fly with the kid, there. Trying to call it a 'lack of consensus' or _just_ a 'loud discussion' -- _like hell_. But as for the rest of it… the kid wasn’t wrong.) "And I’m thinkin’ you’re not all that sure how to not start arguing with her and makin’ stuff all that much worse, other than tryin’ to call a ‘time out’ and maybe trying something else that might go a little better this time maybe, yeah?"

Bill nodded once.

The kids were looking to Ford, holding hands under the table, and they began slowly relaxing as they watched Ford taking breath after heaving breath, hands still palms-down on the table, beginning to regulate his breathing as he went and calm himself down.

Miz didn’t look much happier than Ford, though she was looking down at her hands gripping the bottom of her shirt as she worked to calm down, herself.

"You lookin’ for a better solution from me, here?" Stan said to the kid, and added almost leadingly, "Or, y’know, just some other option?"

The kid nodded once. "Yes, either," the kid said to him as calmly as Stan had ever heard him, while slowly lifting a hand to place it on top of Miz’s head, a light but unmoving touch, as if to help her calm down and stay calm, too.

...Okay. (Hell, it was nice to have some backup this time, here.) "Well, Miz listens to ‘stop’s better from you than she does from me, and Ford listens to ‘em better from me than almost anybody else, so that’s what we’ll start with here, yeah?" Bill gave him a long flat look, then nodded once. Good. Great.

Stan turned to Ford. "Ford, are you wanting to play this game with her? --Yes or no, just that."

" _No_ ," Ford said tersely. He didn’t look at all happy at having to have repeated himself like this.

Bill glanced over at Miz. "Do you want to play with that Stanford?" he asked her.

Miz shook her head slowly. "No…" though she sounded disappointed as she said it.

"Ford, are you gonna try and stop her from playing your nerdy game with other people?" Stan asked him next.

"It’s not _my_ \--" Ford stopped and took in a deep breath. "It isn’t wise--" Ford began again.

"--Not what I asked," Stan said almost warningly, giving Ford a long look. "Are you gonna try and stop her from playing it with somebody else, any more than you’ve tried to stop the kid from doing it?"

"...No," Ford ground out eventually at them all, sounding like this was some huge concession (and possibly some sort of terrible failing) on his part.

...Yeah, he’d thought the context might help a little there. " _Good_ ," said Stan. "Then we don’t got a problem, here, when it comes to this nerdy game that _one_ of you is wanting to play with some _other_ people, here," Stan said heavily. "Ford don’t wanna play; Miz don’t want him playing with her. Everything else? --You two can table the rest of that for some other _yelling match_ , some _other_ time," or, y’know, _never_. Never would be good for that one. (Stan knew that his brother wasn’t going to get through to the dragon-lady on this one; not like this. He’d told her the same thing straight-out twice, and she didn’t seem to be hearing him, or what he was trying to say. So…)

"Ok…" Miz took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. Then she turned away from Ford and clapped her hands together, as if using that as a segway, and looked over at the kids. "Okay, so who’s going to be playing? I can get the character sheets drawn up, unless you already have your own? It doesn't matter what level you are, I can adjust the difficulty of the encounters for it."

Dipper looked over at Stan. The old man gave him a lopsided smile. "It’s fine. Just one of those single, one-session games should be alright, right?"

"... _Standard_ rules?" Dipper said slowly. "Or…"

"We’ll all go over the rules first, sure," Stan said, trying to keep down the smile.

Dipper’s eyebrows went up, and Mabel let out a little giggle. Bill was decidedly poker-faced over this, and Ford was left blinking and sending Stan a quick glance.

"I’m good on anything between version 3.5 to the current edition," Miz told them. "The older editions are too broken to play," what with having the Players calculate the weight of their inventory and adding that to their speed and agility modifiers, and height above sea level being a factor in their ability to _breathe_...

"Uh _huh_ ," Stan said, giving absolutely nothing away. "Well, that’ll probably work out, y’know, in a way. --Dipper, maybe grab your newest copy of that manual or whatever for her to check, make sure it’s all the same stuff from her ’set, too," Stan told him.

Dippr blinked at his grunkle. Well, if Grunkle Stan thought it would be safe, _and_ that just going by the standard ruleset would be okay…

Dipper bit his lip, decidedly did _not_ look at Bill at all (standard ruleset, _right_ ), and sent Great-Uncle Ford a somewhat-apologetic look, before nodding at his Grunkle and running upstairs to get one of his character sheets, his DDNMD box with all the standard starting materials (game mat, player’s rulebook, basic miniature figurines…), and _all_ of his dice, pretty much everything -- except for his own binders and all the graph paper that made up his own campaign material. (His new one wasn’t done yet and he _definitely_ didn’t want to spoil things for people.)

"So Dipper’s playing, who else?" Miz asked.

Mabel raised her hand. "Will there be a hot elf?" she asked.

Miz giggled. "Well… there miiiight be a vampire~" and Mabel lit up and immediately agreed to play too.

Miz looked delighted.

"Would you like me to play, oh little sister of mine?" Bill asked her himself. At that, Ford shot Bill a look that Miz didn’t quite catch, and when Miz happily and enthusiastically said "Yes!!" ...

...Ford let out a sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose, and intoned, "I’ll be watching the game, as usual." He’d done it before because he’d had to keep an eye on Bill and what he was doing, with Dipper DM’ing and Bill liable to do… well… the sort of acting out that Ford had come to expect out of the demon at every turn. (Except in those games that Bill was ‘just’ a player in, and _Dipper_ was ‘in charge’…)

This time was going to be different, though. The _demon_ was going to be DM’ing this time, and Miz… with _Bill_ playing? Stan was setting them all up for…

Ford sent Stan another look, because he damn well hoped his brother knew what he was doing here…

Miz raised an eyebrow. "You’re all free to watch," she said simply. "So where can I set up the board?"

"Might as well do it out in the living room, here," Stan said, gesturing at the ‘family room’ behind them, beyond the kitchen area. "Not like this should be running past dinnertime."

Ford sent Stan a glance as he watched his brother decidedly _not_ say anything one way or the other about whether he might potentially play the game himself.

Dipper came back downstairs with his DDNMD box, and plonked it down in the middle of the living room floor, while Miz glanced over at Mabel, as she got up from her own chair to go sit down next to her brother. "Do you have a character?" Miz asked. "I can help you write up one. What Class do you wanna play as?"

Mabel considered it. "Welllllll~" Mabel said. "This is a new one-time game, right? So we should probably just make new ones up, just for this! So I guess, maybe~… a Healer?"

Miz nodded. "Well, in a campaign with undead, it’s always good to have a Healer."

"--I know, right!" Mabel grinned out at her as she shot out of her chair and headed for the living room, and Miz blinked at how quickly the teenager took off.

The rest of them got up and all made their way to the living room, as Miz talked Mabel through her character creation. "I’m gonna be bumping everyone up to level 5 so it’d be more fun to play. You’ll have more skills and HP." Mabel nodded at that while Dipper changed up his own character sheet, leveling it up to 5. "So stats, a Healer generally needs high Wisdom and Charisma…" Miz said as she wrote up Mabel’s character.

Mabel giggled. "Charisma!"

"--Hey," Stan said. "Check the nerd-book _first_. Make sure the rules are the same," he reminded Miz, as Dipper pulled out the handbook and dutifully held it out to the demon-girl.

A quick scan and a nod later, Miz handed the book back to Dipper. "It’s the same, but the names of things changed around, I’ve got the correct terms for this dimension’s version of the game memorized now."

Ford sent Bill another look, as Bill folded his legs under himself and sat down next to Mabel on the floor, on the side opposite from where Miz was currently sitting -- effectively putting himself between Mabel and Dipper for the moment.

Bill ignored Ford’s look at this choice of his, and instead reached out and took a blank character sheet from Dipper -- who eyed him as he handed it over, along with a pencil -- then looked down and away while seeming to be _very_ interested in his own character sheet after that.

Turning back to Mabel, Miz grinned. "Don't underestimate Charisma! It's the stat for being able to talk to people, it affects the Persuasion skills!" She pointed at Stan: "High Charisma and Wisdom with points in Strength." Miz moved her hand to point at Ford: "High Dexterity and Intelligence, terrible at Wisdom saves. Wisdom is the stat you use to defend yourself from Psychic damage." Ford twitched at what was effectively a verbal slap-in-the-face insult, while Stan looked over at his brother. Huh. That was… an interesting way to put it. The kid had said similar before, but the kid had left out all the extra explanation that Miz was tossing out there along with it here.

"Maybe keep the insults to a minimum, yeah Miz?" Stan told her. "Unless you want to piss off the kids to the point that they don’t wanna play with you anymore, ‘cause you can’t stop takin’ potshots at Ford long enough to actually DM the nerdy game right," Stan noted, and pretended not to see the look that Ford was giving him for it. (--Yeah, he’d said it to Sixer, sure. But Sixer wasn’t the only person there who he’d thought maybe needed to hear it…)

Miz blinked. "I wasn’t trying to…" then she paused and tilted her head. "Ah, okay, sorry. I won’t talk about his Stats."

"Believe me, you don’t _need_ to. I’ve already outlined _that_ to him, long-since," Bill told her, as he finished putting the finishing touches on his own preferred-choice of character, levelled up to _Level 5_ \-- what an absolute _steal_ , not having to even start out at the bottom with a simple Level 1 character, HAHA!

Miz continued to gently steer Mabel through character creation, explaining the special skills, how her Armor Class worked and how to calculate damage. Mabel knew a lot of this from when Dipper had DM'ed with her and Grunkle Stan and Bill now, using the actual rules as opposed to just rolling to save him from Probabilator. She wished that they could just grab Dipper’s laptop and go with the _Genjitsu variant_ that Bill had coded up for them, though, because that let them just use straight up english text and descriptions for stuff when casting spells -- just like they’d been able to do when the infinity dice had gone off and made everything weirdly real. Bill’s online website-program thing had also let her get a set of character stats and items just from answering a bunch of questions on ‘gamelike scenarios’ and letting Dipper ask them in a fun way and then type in her answers for her, but…

...the newer DL (Dungeon’s League) ruleset variant that Miz was talking about wasn’t so bad for this character creation stuff, either -- it streamlined everything down to some really simple math!

Dipper had always complained about the standard DL variant though, and had refused to ever play it since it took all the really _fun_ math out of everything -- which was really one of the biggest reasons why he wanted to play it, besides the cool adventures!

...which was _also_ why Mabel had never played the game with him before last summer. The DL variant also no longer allowed Players to be rewarded Gold from finding treasure in the game, either; instead, everyone in the party, regardless of how much or how little they did during the game, would all receive the same amount of Gold and Experience points at the end of said game. (...which Grunkle Stan hadn’t liked himself, when he’d first heard of it.)

_And_ in the DL variant, Magic Items were only available via purchase with Treasure Points that they got rewarded after each session, to keep things from getting ‘too convoluted’ during the game as they played. So even if they found a magic item in the game, they couldn’t actually _own_ it until they purchased it with Treasure Points. (...which Grunkle Stan also would’ve objected to, if they’d ever gotten that far in the explanation before Bill had chimed in with his own recommendation that first session, with his _special_ ‘multiverse variant’ that hadn’t been introduced to their own dimension yet. It had had a many-to-one translation from ‘simple American English’ to the right sort of output of math that wasn’t any different from the ruleset they’d been using, so Dipper had been able to use the variant for Mabel’s and Stan’s own stuff, and use the ‘normal’ math for his and Bill’s own.)

...And then to add insult to injury, multiple people in the party could purchase any magic item found over the course of the game at the end of the game, which Dipper insisted was ‘stupid’ since ‘in the story of the game’ there should only be ONE of that item: the one their party had found. (Apparently this rule in the ‘make it super-easy to play’ variant had been put in place to keep the party from fighting over an item that multiple people might want, since everyone could have one if they ‘bought’ it. --But it _broke_ immersion and didn’t make any sense Lore-wise!)

At the unhappy look on Dipper’s face at Miz telling them she wanted to use the DL variant for her DM’ing session, Miz told them that she would be only using the newer DL ruleset for the combat and encounters while keeping the old Loot system, because _she_ found it unfair as well. ("They made it so I wasn’t allowed to keep my Windvane Spear because it was a ‘story’ item that was only allowed for the campaign it came with! Like, how stupid is that? As if my character would just _give it up_ after finishing off that campaign! And I even _bought_ a customized figurine of my character _with_ the spear!")

Once they’d all finished establishing what all the rules would be -- a mix of those from the standard rulebook that pretty much anybody human would be playing in that dimension -- Miz pressed her finger to the game board and said, "I’m going to use a visual overlay; it’s easier than drawing and erasing the map everytime we change locations."

Mabel blinked at the tiny little village that grew out of the board. It expanded until they could see all the miniature buildings, marketplace and even tiny little figures walking around. "Whoa, how’d you do that!" Mabel gasped out, while Dipper and Ford flinched back.

"No weirdness--!!" Dipper complained quickly before Ford could even get a word out.

Miz’s tech suit was glowing faintly. "They're just holograms! Not magic or weirdness at all!" she huffed. "Pyronica gets bored when there's no visual stimulus, and I had a human DM once who would bring in a whole set of blocks to build the setting and dungeons as well--"

"It's fine, kid," Stan told her with a smile. "You’re just wanting to make this more fun, right?" He glanced at the board. Huh. He bet the kid would’ve set this up for Dipper, too, if he’d had his suit all made up at the time; probably a good thing though, that the kid hadn’t. "As long as no one gets shrunk down or has their brain eaten or is gonna get hurt or killed or anything, we should be good," Stan told her. "--And the only thing anybody wins out of this besides playing the game is any info they get while they’re playing. Sound good?"

Miz nodded, "That’s fine." (Ford glared at Stan but didn't comment. He was _not_ looking forward to seeing what he was expecting to see happen during this game -- not in the least.)

Bill shifted in place where he was sitting on the floor and looked over the board, as he handed his character sheet over to Miz. (He didn't need a character sheet for his own calculations, since he was perfectly capable of keeping track of all his stats in his own Mind. That said, Miz would need a copy of it for herself to start with, to ensure a lack of… ‘cheating’, as one might put it, so-to-speak.)

Bill blinked as he stared at the area where Miz had ‘put down’ the figures she’d made for this, where Mabel and Dipper's characters were already standing. Dipper was playing a Halfling Druid and Mabel was an Elven Healer. And Bill waited to see if…

...and his own character appeared there shortly, looking just as he’d described him -- a female Human Sorcerer-Bard, standing at the entrance of the town alongside the other two characters. Miz quickly explained the setup: that they were travellers who had just gotten into town.

Stan did a little more back-and-forth with Miz on the do’s and don’ts of the rules and the way the game was going to be played -- for Ford’s own benefit and own peace of mind, mainly -- and then they all settled in for the game, with Stan watching the action going on from the sidelines too. There weren’t really any more surprises before they began.

By the time they got started, everybody was expecting what Miz was going to be doing to handle the gameplay -- for instance, instead of describing the scene like a normal DDNMD game DM’er would have had to do, Miz was instead simply changing the image being projected on the ground as their characters moved around the board, and then let the players decide what they wanted to do. They were also able to make Perception or Investigation rolls to reveal more of the map as they went.

(What none of the Pines were all that sure about was what Bill might pull during the session, because…)

Dipper, more used to DMing than playing, accidentally stole a chicken almost from the get-go, leading to their entire party having to run away and out into the woods to get away from the authorities. Mabel teased him about it mercilessly, as they all regrouped and had to return to the town in disguise to continue exploring. ("How was I supposed to know the chicken would follow me?!" Dipper complained, frustrated by his Druid’s passive Animal Friendship effect apparently Charming the chicken into following him around. Since they’d all been bumped up to level 5, his character had a lot more Skills to keep track of, and Dipper hadn’t really gotten used to them all yet.) And Miz made it rather clear from some of the NPC chatter that they’d need to stay in disguise, too -- at least until the heat was finally off of them. Stan found it all pretty funny. (Ford hid his face for a moment, not finding it funny in the least.)

As normal as the town seemed from Miz’s environmental descriptions, the party soon realized there was something very wrong going on from her descriptions of the people: the townsfolk were skittish and worried. They were deliberately talking around certain subjects and were clearly hiding something. Ford was already suspicious and Stan had to stop him from speaking up with a whispered "Look, these kind of adventures are _supposed_ to have some kind of mystery going on, yeah?"

It took many Persuasion checks -- most of which were performed by Bill’s character with the most success (...as usual...) -- to get one of the villagers to finally tell them what was going on.

"...been two years since that vampire moved in, somewhere on the outskirts of town. We fear for our lives every month when he comes into town and snatches a few people up for his meal! We've never seen any of them again," Miz narrated for a weary looking NPC woman that the party was questioning. No one in town wanted to talk about it, fearful of scaring away merchants and other travellers if the word spread that this town was the personal hunting grounds for a vampire.

"Why haven't you hired a vampire hunter?" Dipper asked. He was a little worried at first, but having the scene zoom in with all the characters walking around made it almost like watching a movie, except he got to interact with the story. That was pretty cool.

"We've tried! But none of the adventurers we’ve hired have ever returned. And with the vampire abductions continuing to happen, it’s pretty clear that they failed," Miz said as she clasped her hands in front of her chest (the motion following through to the NPC woman as well). "I'm afraid I will simply be sending you brave, adventurous heroes all to your deaths just talking to you all about this, but I don't know what else to do! The vampire took my sister and I'm sure she must still be alive! The fact that the vampire only hunts once a month must mean he keeps his victims alive for at least a while!"

The NPC woman gave the Player’s characters a pleading look.

"I don't have much to give--" Miz gasped, wiping away an imaginary tear as the hologram of the woman followed her movements with real tears. "But you would have my utmost gratitude! I would give you free room and board within my house whenever you are in town--" Miz made the figure of the NPC woman look around with a pained expression. "And my life savings of 50 gold."

"Of course we will help!" Dipper said firmly. "We don’t need your gold."

Bill rolled his eyes and sent Dipper an annoyed look. He was starting to regret having cast that spell that allowed him to share his persuasiveness with all party members. "We don’t need your gold _in advance_ ," Bill said. "We’ll discuss any further payment, such as gold, along with room and board for all three of us supplied by you where you live forever, once we’ve handled your abduction-by-vampire problem and returned."

Dipper shot Bill an annoyed look right back. "Are we really charging this lady for saving her sister’s life?" he hissed.

Bill sent Dipper an even look. "She put so many loopholes in that you should be bleeding out your ears just at _hearing_ it. --I’m being _generous_ by NOT finalizing the terms _before_ we go out there, risking our _lives_ for this thing. We are doing something of _value_. We _should_ be compensated for doing so, _properly_."

"Bill--" Dipper began, but he stopped and almost winced as Bill called a ‘whisper check’ and Mabel rolled a perfect 38 for him.

Bill let out a huff of breath that was almost a sigh, then turned to Dipper and said, rather straightforwardly, "Pine Tree. We don’t know what her house is like. We don’t know if she’ll keep it in good upkeep. We don’t have a definition of what ‘board’ entails -- which could be anything down to a few grains of salt, a piece of moldy bread, no cheese, and dirty _pond_ water to drink. We don’t know if she owns any other properties here or elsewhere that might be significantly _better_ than ‘her house’. We don’t know if she has funds other than her ‘life savings’. We don’t know how much more gold we could get, if we told her to get the whole town to ‘pitch in’ for a payment, since this is a _whole town_ problem. We may never be in _this_ town again, and this ‘room and board’ is only good for _her_ house in town, so if she _moves_ or her _house_ burns down -- if she even _has_ ‘a house’ instead of ‘an inn’ or _anything_ else -- then she would be getting off _scot-free_ with _nothing at all_ paid to us for our efforts."

Dipper groaned. "Bill, I don’t think it needs to be that exact. And if we get room and board, we don’t have to rent out rooms at the local inn if we end up needing to come back here to rest before we finish the session. Most adventurers are gonna be heading out to travel to different towns anyway, so it’s not like it’s a big deal." he crossed his arms. "It’s **not** about the rewards she gives us, it’s about _helping_ her and this town, by getting rid of the vampire that’s been killing them."

Bill gave his a slight evil smile. "I never said anything to her about getting rid of the vampire," he told Dipper. "Just the abduction-by-vampire problem. --Leave our options open," Bill said. "We don’t know _why_ the vampire is taking people. And we _could_ broker a deal where people go to the vampire _voluntarily_." The ending ‘you idiot’ Bill ended that statement with was _heavily_ implied.

Mabel was glad that she’d moved to sit between Bill and her brother after she’d gotten her character straightened out with Miz, before the session had started. "Look, we just want to help the townspeople so they’re not being eaten anymore."

"Not necessarily," said Bill. "They don’t have any other monster attacks in the area. The vampire is probably taking care of that; they’re _very_ territorial. --If the vampire _is_ eating the humans living here, then getting _more_ of them to give _less_ blood per person over time could set up a mutually-beneficial relationship between the town and the vampire. _Killing_ the vampire would just leave a power vacuum for another, _worse_ monster to fill," Bill shrugged off.

Dipper was getting a headache from this. He was smart enough not to object that this was just a single, one-off game, though. He knew by now that when Bill played a character, he played that character within the session _seriously_ \-- in ‘the long view’, as if the session would never end. And that when the dumb dorito chip was being _that_ insistent about something, while _knowing_ full well it was ‘just a game’, that Bill was trying to make some kind of a _point_...

(Dipper secretly found it a little admirable and funny that Bill got so into the game sometimes, but it was also still _really_ annoying. _Especially_ when it ended up being the _second_ one of those things, because once he _finally_ figured out whatever point it was that Bill was trying to get at… _none_ of them ever really liked it. Dipper had practically flipped the board a few times over some of the stuff that Bill just kept pulling on them when he was--)

Dipper pulled in a breath, then let it out slowly.

"Mabel?" he said, "What do you think?" Because Mabel had seemed to handle Bill pretty okay whenever she’d been playing while Dipper had been DMing things. And a lot of times, she was able to smooth things over as a player, that Dipper had been about ready to quit over as a DM--

"I think we should talk to the vampire first," Mabel said firmly. "Bill, you can talk vampire, right?"

"Creature Of The Night is one of my language proficiencies, yes," Bill said, and Dipper slapped a palm to his forehead.

"Mabel--" Dipper began.

"--Player-to-player," Bill said, glancing over at Miz. At her nod, Bill then pronounced, "Miz has said within Stanley’s and my hearing that she does not like 'murder-hobo' campaigns. I have already given her several suggestions for how to deal with 'murder-hobo' players, which she _also_ does not like," he said next, side-eyeing Dipper with lowered eyelids, and Dipper blinked.

Dipper frowned at Bill. He didn't really know what that term meant, but he could sort-of guess what Bill was trying to say from the rest of it. "--Fine! We’ll try talking with the vampire, or whatever!" Dipper said, tossing his hands up in the air. "But when it tries to eat us, I’m saying ‘I told you so!’" the teenager frowned at the two of them. Because this was _DDNMD_ , not Gravity Falls! Trying to talk to stuff that was classified as 'monsters' got you _nowhere_ in the game!

Bill nodded once, then turned to Miz and said, "Player-to-player over. Whispering over."

And they continued on with their play.

"I thank thee for agreeing to help," the NPC said before giving the three of them directions to where the townsfolk thought the vampire’s lair was. ("To the south of the village, within the mountain valley.") None of them knew the exact location, but it was pretty clear that part of the adventure was the players figuring out where it was. 

The party wandered around a bit in the mountains and forests, they came upon a pack of wolves. Mabel’s eyes lit up with a "ROLL TO PET THE PUPPY!" and tossed her dice for a 29 (with a +3 for Animal Interaction for a 32) and managed to pet the largest of the wolves.

"No, Mabel, you don’t PET them!" Dipper groaned.

Mabel blew a raspberry at him. "Dip-Dop, you’re a magic nature guy. Aren’t you supposed to _tame_ animals and stuff?"

Dipper frowned. He was starting to regret the druid character type he’d gone along with for the campaign, if he was just going to get razzed on it every chance they all got, for the rest of the afternoon. "Mabel, they don’t drop EXP unless we slay them!"

"--EXACTLY! So _why not_ just follow the _rules!_ " Bill said, with a cheerful brightness that was _very_ ‘high-energy’ for him. "After all, if you want a lot of EXP, you just need to _kill_ EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE you meet! NO QUESTIONS ASKED!! _**RIGHT?**_ " and _that_ , along with the very-wide _grin_ Bill was giving him over Mabel’s head and his tone of voice as he said it, made Dipper pause for a moment, going still.

Miz took this time to speak up, "The DL ruleset grants a set amount of EXP at the end of each session, meaning that killing things or not killing things won’t change how much EXP you get. This rule for the DL variant was made so that Players would try out more options in dealing with encounters than simply murder-hoboing their way through the game." She shrugged. "I hate their Loot rules so we’re not playing by them, but the EXP rule I like because it places more emphasis on roleplaying instead of combat. That’s why I suggested it." Miz looked down at her lap. "Of course, it doesn’t stop players from _choosing_ to kill, just because they _want_ to."

Dipper looked over at Miz, staring.

Then he felt something almost akin to shock, as he slowly turned his head to stare back up at Bill again.

And then he looked away and tried not to wince. --Because he’d fallen for it. _Again_. --Bill had pulled something similar during one of his campaigns before -- not in the specifics, but...

This time, Bill had straight-up _told_ him -- warned him, really -- that Miz liked to play differently as a DM. Bill had gone meta again, taking into account how the players and DM wanted to play, and then playing off of _that_. When Dipper had been DM’ing, Bill hadn’t said it straight-out until Dipper had literally _tripped_ over it and then called him out on it. --And now? Dipper was kicking himself, feeling angry with both the demons, _and_ himself. Because he realized he should’ve known better.

And what was _worse_ was that _this_ time, they’d _both_ told him straight-out what was going on first, long before Bill had challenged him on it, and Miz had made it _absolutely_ clear herself what she was doing. Killing was a _choice_ in this game, the way Miz was running it, not a requirement to get anywhere.

Dipper shifted in place, feeling uncomfortable. Then he clenched his jaw and glanced away, feeling even less happy than before. Because _now_? Now he was starting to get an idea of what Bill had meant, when he’d said what he’d said the _last_ time that they’d played, about not feeling _challenged_ by the scenarios Dipper was running...

Dipper had thought Bill had meant the difficulty level of the monster encounters, that they were still too low for him even _after_ Dipper had figured out what was what with the standard rule set basically being broken and cheatable from the start -- which Bill had actually _told_ him straight-out, too, after Dipper had demanded to know how he'd kept on managing to win _every single encounter_ Dipper tossed at him somehow...

...it was why Bill had handed over a _non_ -standard set of rules for creating all the monsters and traps and encounters after having finally gotten called out on all that. It was _also_ why Mabel always rolled the dice for Bill, from there on in. Because Bill was an expert at cheating the rules _by_ the rules, too. And the way Bill had _made_ the rules for DDNMD...

Dipper let out a breath. He was _still_ trying to get over that one. That Bill had _made_ DDNMD, and introduced it to nearly every dimension himself, _on purpose_. ~~And then wanted to know if Dipper _liked_ the game, if he thought it was _fun_.~~ (...Dipper knew that he was taking it better than Great-Uncle Ford, but that wasn’t saying much. Especially since Great-Uncle Ford was still in denial over it, because Bill had really only _heavily implied_ it, not outright _confirmed_ it. And...)

...It was just one game. He could see how Miz DM’ed it, and see how things went from there. He didn’t have to like it, or DM his own games the same way.

He pulled in a slow breath, and let it out again, then shook his head and glanced back up at Bill, and...

Dipper blinked. Because the demon hadn’t been smirking at him as he’d been watching him work through all that. He’d just been watching, and smiled just a little at the end there, before turning away.

Confused, Dipper looked over to Great-Uncle Ford, but… he was watching Bill, looking just as stunned and off-put as Dipper felt.

(...Maybe because Great-Uncle Ford set up his games as EXP-grabs, too.)

Dipper frowned a little in uncertainty, then turned back to Miz.

"Okay," he said, biting the bullet and going along with it all for now. (Hey, he was a DM; he knew how this stuff worked when a player actively tried to play counter to a campaign. He didn't want to get his character dropped in a 'magical hole' that came out of nowhere, or worse. That'd leave Mabel playing the game alone with two demons, here, while trying to figure things out.) "So Mabel’s petting them now. --Are they _all_ acting tame right now? Or do I need to keep any of them off her, from attacking her," he Dipper asked Miz asked firmly.

Miz rolled a few dice behind her DM screen. "Well, they’re kinda confused. Don’t see you as a threat, and Mabel’s petting roll was high enough that the one she’s petting, who happens to be the pack leader, is pleasantly surprised by the comforting touch."

"--I, for one, think that our druid, who has a higher Animal Interaction skill than I do, should roll a Perception check on _exactly_ what types of wolves these are, in this pack," Bill put out there, and Dipper winced, because he’d absolutely _hated_ it when Bill had pulled that during their sessions, giving Mabel rather far too perceptive ‘hints’ at something he suspected, that had pretty much always been dead on, to Dipper’s ever-present and ongoing annoyance as he’d DM’ed...

So Dipper sighed and said, "Perception check on the wolf pack, for classification." At the look Bill sent him, he added, " _Each_ wolf in the pack." Dipper rolled his checks and announced them. He got over 28 for each.

Miz rolled a few more dice, then said, "Three timber wolves; they’re normally in forests, but they’ve been pushed farther out from their usual habitat." Miz rolled one more time. "And one werewolf, which Mabel is currently petting."

Dipper stared, while Bill made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snicker.

Mabel’s eyes lit up. "What, _really?!_ " Mabel said excitedly. She made her character hug the pack leader. "Aww~ I’m sure you’re a handsome guy, aren’t you~?" she cooed at the wolf.

Bill grinned. Dipper slapped his forehead.

They heard something that sounded suspiciously like a cough out of Grunkle Stan.

"--Wait, can the werewolf one talk? Can we ask him questions?" Mabel asked excitedly, starting to _really_ get into things.

Miz raised an eyebrow. "You can ask him," she said neutrally. Mabel squee’d.

"And the druid can likely translate," Bill added while looking at the ceiling, rather than over at Dipper.

"Okay." Mabel looked back at the board. "Hey mister wolf, my name’s Mabel! What’s your name?" The image of the large wolf her character was still petting let out a soft "Ruff," while wagging his tail. Mabel turned to Dipper with a pleading look and the teenager rolled his eyes before casting ‘Commune with Beasts’ on the whole party. Miz flicked her fingers and the wolf’s short barks morphed into english.

"It is very nice to meet you. I’ve had that itch behind my ear for a few days now. Can’t reach it with my paws and the full moon isn’t for another week!" the werewolf laughed. "My name is Remus."

"It’s nice to meet you." Mabel hugged him. "So, um, would you mind answering a few questions?" she asked. Remus seemed to shrug. "Well, if you could scratch a little lower along my neck…" He gave Mabel an honest to god puppy-eyed look. The girl giggled and scratched the wolf as requested, Mabel the player moving her hands in the air in front of herself as her character copied her motions. "Ah yeeees~" Remus closed his eyes with his tongue hanging out. "Thank you kindly, milady."

"Ehehehehe he called me ‘milady’!" Mabel almost wished she _was_ shrunk down into the board so she could pet him for real. But she also knew way better than to voice this out loud.

"Do you know anything about any vampires that live in the area?" Bill asked straight-out himself.

"Aye, _that_ guy." Remus grumbled. "Moved in several moons back. Set around claiming this place as his own." He seemed quite miffed at that. "Challenged me to a fight, didn’t like my pack being on his ‘front lawn’ or some nonsense." Remus’s ears drooped. "I wasn’t at my best, that’s the only reason why he won. Jerk," the werewolf huffed out.

"Oh, that’s sad." Mabel pouted. "Well, he's been causing a _lot_ of people problems, so we’re gonna go find him and give him a stern talking-to! Do you know where his house is?"

Remus shrugged. "He’s hidden it with magic. Even my nose can’t scent out where the exact location is. But…" The wolf stood up and turned his head to point off into the woods. "It’s in that direction. I can tell because there’s still the scent of blood and humans from when he captured some villagers from that village nearby a few days ago." Remus huffed. "The only upside to all this is that the vampire hasn’t bothered any of our prey. My pack has a smaller hunting ground now, but there are still plenty of deer." Remus butted his head against Mabel’s hand. "If you’re really going to talk to that guy, be careful. He’s strong."

"Strength isn't an issue," Bill said neutrally. "Do you want to come with us? It would be easier to renegotiate your territory boundaries in-the-flesh. We could translate for you, so you could do so while you're in your stronger position."

(Dipper looked over at Bill and blinked, as he realized that the demon was referring to how the wolf-form of the werewolf was actually more powerful in a fight overall. Most players worried about the human form being contagious if their character was scratched, bitten, or otherwise outright cursed by a werewolf with their dying breath, but a vampire as rolled up by the standard ruleset wouldn't have that problem, DL variant or not.)

Miz rolled a few dice behind her screen. Remus shook his head. "No, I have to protect my pack. Can’t go running off on them. And I’d rather not take them into the vampire’s den thank you very much. But if you _can_ talk to the guy, tell him that I’m perfectly fine with leaving him alone, I just want to have some of my home back."

"Will do. Thank you for your help." Bill made it a point to 'direct' (read: explain that) his character tipped his sorcerer-bard's hat at Remus, before he started walking off in the direction indicated. "You two coming, or what?" Bill half-taunted them over a shoulder.

Mabel gave Remus one last hug before following after him.

Dipper rolled his eyes and almost stayed put out of spite, but then gave up at the look Mabel was giving him and followed along, too.

...And of course the next thing they did was run into some bandits. Miz almost looked apologetic as she shrugged. "I rolled for encounters and you got bandits."

"Drop yer valuables and maybe you’ll get away wi’ yer lives," the bandit leader sneered at them. His band of four other bandits jeered and brandished their weapons menacingly. The party was going to be surrounded if they didn’t back up.

Dipper and Mabel both glanced up at Bill, who looked perfectly composed at this, wondering if he was going to...

"I cast ‘Invisible Party’, with a three-second delay in activation, and then pull out my staff and cast ‘Ghost Call’. And then we run," said Bill.

...okay, guess not. Mabel and Dipper glanced at each other. "We run, too," said Dipper. "--Alongside Bill, and not any faster!" Mabel said with a lit-up smile.

Miz rolled Search checks for each bandit. "Most of them fall for your ruse. One of them knows where you are, but she’s not gonna make the effort to go after a spell-caster’s party while her companions are being set upon by ravenous ghosts and ghouls from the nearby forest cemetery and she can’t see them." Miz informed them. "If you continue running you’ll get away from them."

"I activate the ‘flight’ charge on my staff, and cast ‘Lighten Load’ on Pine Tree," Bill said next.

"--And we all get on the staff!" Mabel said with a grin.

"And I mount the staff and help Shooting Star get on," Bill said next. "Shooting Star, roll for--"

Mabel rolled and exclaimed, "Twenty-five!" and looked at Dipper expectantly, and her twin sighed and said, "Fine. I get on, too."

"--With higher than a seven-roll on the ‘Lighten Load’ spell, poundage should be below the limit, with our characters and the DL variant’s calculations on inventory weight," Bill noted. Dipper had to hold back a groan. The DL variant on weight was much easier, and far more liberal on the load limits and calculations. Which was one of the reasons he didn’t like it -- it made it _way_ too easy for the dream demon to get away with this sort of stuff!

"I fly us all straight up to the thirty-foot ceiling for our weight total, and turn around to fly us over the bandits," Bill said next. "Shooting Star, roll for Concentration--"

Mabel rolled, and she and Bill both grimaced at the five. "I’m rolling for Perception checks and Intuition checks every twenty feet!" Mabel chimed in next, used to this sort of thing by this point. Usually her character didn’t get to be the one on the staff with him, which meant Bill didn’t have to do a Concentration roll to see whether he needed to focus on flying instead of being able to both fly overhead _and_ gather data at the same time.

Miz chuckled. "Well, the staff is going to dip down a few feet every thirty seconds--"

"--I cast Feather Fall on the party," Bill said next, and Miz pouted.

"...Dip down three feet every minute," Miz muttered, after a few dice rolls behind her screen, and a sigh, after checking Bill’s character sheet and the stats on his staff a bit more carefully than she had initially.

Bill grinned.

"Search grid pattern?" Dipper asked, resigned to this situation. He didn’t really want to think too much about why this wasn’t any more fun being on the beneficiary end of it, instead of the receiving end at the DM. If anything, Dipper almost felt _worse_...

They did have to land before Mabel and Dipper -- each performing their checks over and over again -- were able to find the vampire’s lair, but with a few hints from Bill on what to ask, they were still, at least, able to narrow down the area significantly to exclude locations that they could be sure that the lair _wasn’t_ in.

Once they’d landed, Mabel handed over a mana potion to Bill, and he had his character drink it on the spot. It didn’t get him back any more ‘spell slots’, but it did shorten the timer significantly for raising his spell efficacy level back up a bit -- from two hours in-game to three minutes instead -- for whatever spells he was potentially going to be doing next. (Dipper rolled his eyes, because that should have required a stamina potion, too, _and_ reduced the number of spells he could cast in a row until the next long rest they took. But because they were going by the ‘simpler’ way, way too easy DL variant...)

"Well, at least we won’t be running into anything else anytime soon!" Mabel said enthusiastically, because they hadn’t spotted any more encounters nearby, or in, the smaller area they had left to search

Dipper sighed, and got on with it.

Stan and Ford were quietly watching all this. Stan was happy to watch without jumping in as a ‘peanut gallery’, even though he was used to playing at this point. Ford seemed to be frowning off and on quite a bit, like he usually did with the games he’d watched with Dipper DM’ing for him and Mabel and Bill. Nothing new there, really.

(Mostly, Ford was wondering why the man-eater insisted on playing a variation of the game that discouraged EXP gain. Who was she trying to fool with this fake ‘non-violent’ gameplay scenario of hers? --That was hardly realistic of any sort of real-life situation at all! The monster races in DDNMD were _monster races_ for a reason. There was no reason to try and treat the killing of imaginary monsters in a game as some sort of ~~moral~~ shameful failure at ‘proper’ gameplay. And when Ford tried to think on what the demon’s ulterior motives might be, outside of the actual game itself...)

(--Surely it was all just a trick, to try and make them think that she might actually _care_ about more than just killing things to further her own transient whims, in ‘games’ such as this one, or of any other type -- such as their own _not a game_ existence ~~in contradiction to how demons refused to treat their own lives and the lives of anyone else as anything _other_ than one long series of throwaway risks and gambles, with out-and-out mass- _murder_ being nothing more than something to _laugh off_ , if not outright _about_ , as part of the ‘fun and games’~~...)

The party eventually found a cave entrance. From the Investigation checks they rolled, it was deduced that this cave was in fact the vampire's lair. When Mabel complained that vampires were supposed to have grand mansions, Miz rolled her eyes and replied, "Not all Vampires are aristocracy." Miz seemed annoyed at this stereotype. "Besides, the only ones with mansions are the vampire Lords and such. Those would require a full campaign, not just one session." Miz then grumbled about a mansion with traps and living armors that had apparently killed one of her characters in an old game she played. (Dipper couldn’t help but snort with amusement. He really hoped that her DM that game had gotten a lot of enjoyment out of that one. ...instead of, y’know, getting murdered by an angry demon who’d just lost her character.)

The party made their stealth rolls and snuck inside. Mabel wanted to charge in yelling ‘HELLO! ANYBODY HOME??" to the rafters -- or, well, stalactites -- but Dipper managed to convince her to go for the less-boisterous approach.

Meanwhile, Bill was laying down explosive traps that they could set off on the way out if things went to ‘heck in a handbasket’, as Grunkle Stan liked to put it.

...Which was _also_ usually the job of Grunkle Stan’s character, _not_ Bill’s, now that Dipper thought about it. (Dipper looked over at Bill and wondered what he must have given up in his inventory to be able to… And then Dipper remembered. Right. They’d all started out at Level 5, not Level 1. Ugh… so Bill must have added all _sorts_ of amazing items to his inventory...)

(Dipper looked away, grimacing, and wondered if he could manage to snag Bill’s character sheet from Miz after this. It’d be a good idea to get an idea _now_ of the sorts of stuff Bill was going to try to pull in their upcoming campaign, once Bill moved up to a higher level from his current -- as-yet still unallocated -- Level 3 character -- having only just moved up from his current Level 2 at the end of the last session that had ended the previous campaign. Dipper _hated_ getting constantly blindsided all the time by the stuff that Bill kept on pulling on him; he really needed more time looking over Bill’s inventory _in advance_ of those sessions in order to plan against him better… but Bill always seemed to mix things up on him in town, swapping out all sorts of junk that left Dipper unsure just what he was planning on pulling _this_ time, and eventually frustrated all over again when the dumb dorito then _did_ it, because it always, _always_ felt super-obvious in hindsight that _of course_ that had been what Bill was going to do...)

They walked down the dark cave tunnel, Dipper's character (Tyrone) cast ‘Firefly’ to give everyone a bit of light so they could see. Bill's character (Bill) was rolling Investigation checks every nine feet in search of secret passages and other errata. Mabel's character (Mabel) was taking this time to check over her spell list.

"26," Bill called out after Mabel rolled the dice for him again, "Plus my skill modifier, makes it 36," just two shy of the highest number the DL variant capped everything and everyone at, a 38. Miz nodded at him as a section of the cave wall shimmered and a tile appeared with an image of a Snake on it. Further investigation showed that it wasn't a button and no one could do anything with it. So the party moved on. Bill found several more tiles as they went, all hidden in different sections of the wall: a Hawk, a Lion, a Wolf, a Crocodile, and a Shark.

"What are these for?" Dipper asked, frowning.

Miz shrugged, "I can't tell you. You have to figure it out yourselves." Mabel nodded at that. It made sense to her. They managed to sneak past another pack of wolves -- far less friendly and a lot more murder-y than the ones they’d run into outside the cave, as confirmed by Dipper’s druidic-based skill-check -- and found a few corpses in the cave beyond them, which Bill noted aloud had likely been dumped there by the vampire after he’d finished with them, to feed the wolves said vampire had likely tamed to be useful to him as guards and watch-wolves. (The bodies were blurred out somewhat by Miz, so that the gory details weren’t visible. Luckily, she’d thought about what her sister would think of showing something like that to a pair of thirteen-year-olds, before showing it in full.)

Bill’s Medical check (a specialized subvariant of the Investigation check, which _of course_ he had, too...) showed that those bodies had been drained of blood. Dipper grimaced at the news. "So this really is the vampire’s lair, then."

They eventually got to a dead end. Oddly, it had been a straight tunnel with some twists and turns -- not a maze like Dipper had been expecting -- and there was no more tunnel to go down. But there _was_ a wall with a bunch of tiles with animals pictured on them. And these ones looked like they were buttons.

"So… we push the ones that we saw on the way here, right?" Mabel asked. Dipper leaned forward to get a better look at the wall. "I think so. Everyone stay back, I'll press a button from afar." They all backed off as Dipper used his own wooden staff to poke the Snake tile. It pressed down and stayed down. They all waited warily but nothing happened.

"So…" Mabel looked around. "We can press the other buttons now?" Dipper nodded as he reach his staff out to press the Hawk, Lion, Wolf, Crocodile and Shark, in the order that they'd found them. Nothing happened. Dipper made a frustrated sound. "What are we missing?"

"I didn't succeed in all my Investigation checks," Bill said simply. (...Yeah, because anything below a ‘38’ was something Bill considered a ‘failure’ for an info-check.) "We probably need to press more tiles. If I had to make an ‘educated’ guess..." Bill hummed for a bit, then continued, "We probably don’t have to press the puzzle tiles in the order we saw them on the way in, because it’s just a straight-line tunnel. We could go back and spend more time on each section of wall until we found them all in order; that’s not a very secure ‘password’ to get in. So there's probably some other pattern to which tiles need to be pressed or not, to get in. Something a vampire would think of as obvious, in case he had other guests coming to visit."

Dipper nodded, that made sense. Vampires almost never fought each other in DDNMD, given the lore, so there would be no reason for one to make it hard for some vampire they didn’t know to get in. Which meant they simply had to find the pattern to which animals needed to be pressed or not.

Rabbit | Deer | Crocodile | Zebra | Giraffe  
---|---|---|---|---  
Elephant | Tiger | Snake | Hawk | Gazelle  
Shark | Owl | Bear | Wolf | Lion  
  
Mabel gasped. "Ooh! I know!" She raced forward and began pressing the tiles as Dipper freaked out. "Wait, Mabel!"

"-and~ BOOP! Done!" Mabel sat back and grinned as the wall beside the tiles shifted forward slightly, and then slid away to reveal another corridor. Dipper stared. "What? What did you do?"

Mabel shrugged. "It was meat-eating animals versus the plant-eating ones!" she chirped.

Bill nodded as well, with a smile. "Good job, Shooting Star," he told her. (Dipper blinked at this, because Bill had said that _almost_ the same way they’d all heard him do it with Miz. Except… Mabel didn’t seem to think that it was weird for him to have told _her_ that at all. Why...?)

The party faced a few more puzzles as they continued on, including a pitfall trap that required some careful searching for a switch that flooded the pit with water, so they could then swim across. (It had been a rather forced solution. The ceiling was too low to fly across, since the minimum starting height for a staff-flight like Bill’s -- no matter the weight limit -- was a mandated initial rise to ten feet in the air due to the DL variant they were using. That said, the vampire himself would likely just turn into a bat and fly across. Vampires generally couldn’t swim, after all, which made the trap little eyebrow-raising for Dipper. ...At least, it was until they spotted a boat sitting in the next stretch of hallway before the next room, and Miz made an offhand comment about "How else would he transport the people he’s captured across such a trap?")

The party had a few hair-raising minutes (for Dipper and Mabel, anyway) when they almost lost Dipper’s character to a bad dice roll -- he failed an Acrobatics check for another trap. The floor fell away and he could see the spikes at the bottom of the trap. His use of the ‘Vinewhip’ spell to grip onto the waist of Bill’s character saved his life (as did Bill using his own staff to brace himself, instead of cutting or burning the vine off of his own character in spite). After that, the twins both stopped trying to run or walk ahead of Bill down the hallway, moving instead at a _much_ slower Bill-set pace, one that allowed Bill to stay in front of them and _properly_ check every last inch for more traps after that point. (Bill, for his part, did not comment on this beyond the initial complaint that he’d made -- as he usually did with Shooting Star -- when they’d both started doing the exact opposite of what he’d recommended when it came to traps and his own maxed-out Inspection capabilities. Because the more-general Perception skill only went so far, and when he’d had to choose between Investigation and Inspection when it came to maxing things out… well, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t had an idea of how things might go and what he should probably prioritize in a one-off character, for a ‘vampire’-related campaign...)

With letting Bill lead like this and him being as frustratingly thorough as usual, with no Grunkle Stan telling him otherwise, they actually had to stop about partway through their search for lunch. (The kids were getting antsy, and Bill was staring to snap at them more and more -- _"Don't rush me!!!"_ \-- for trying to 'rush him'.)

So they took a lunch break, as per Grunkle Stan's 'mandate', and they mostly ate in silence pretty quickly before getting right back to it.

...And, _finally_ , they eventually actually got to the vampire’s den.

"How _dare_ you invade my home!" the vampire sneered, as he spotted them immediately when the Alarm runes he’d placed around the doorway lit up.

Dipper raised his staff. "We’re here to rescue the villagers, you monster!" (Bill rolled his eyes.)

The vampire grinned. "Oh? A rescue mission?" He brandished his hands and the ‘kidnapped’ villagers all stood up. "What if they don’t want to be rescued?" The villagers all had glazed expressions and faint smiles on their faces. Dipper grimaced. It was clearly a Charmed effect.

The villagers the vampire had kidnapped were enthralled by his Charm and he ordered them to fight the party. Mabel and Dipper had trouble with that, not wanting to hurt the people they'd come there to save. (Bill just went around smacking the Charmed people in the head with the end of his now- _electrified_ staff without comment, downing them one after the other after the other.) Mabel declared this to be ‘unfair’, but Miz shrugged. "Well, that’s just how it goes sometimes."

Ford muttered bitterly about how Miz must have experience with doing this type of thing, and Miz bristled. "I don’t mind-control people!"

Stan let out a sigh and stepped in before things got ugly again. "--Ford, you didn’t go knocking Mabel when she killed a couple of bandits in one of Dipper’s games, or Dipper for playing that crazy necromancer guy for everybody else to fight, what with all the 'rabid humans' and zombies. Let them just play the darn thing."

Finally, after the last Charmed person was downed -- by Bill, because he'd been paying attention when Miz had said it was going to be an undead campaign with at least one vampire in it, unlike the twins who hadn’t specced any real non-kill options for either of their characters for it -- Bill had his character stride up to the vampire and tip his feathered hat. "Well, well, well. _That_ was a very rude how-do-you do! We come in here and get accosted by your rather boorishly-mannered human brigade, and here we just wanted to talk!" the sorcerer-bard said to the vampire smoothly.

Ford winced heavily at this, almost a cringe. Stan glanced over at him.

Miz rolled a few dice, then rolled her eyes. The vampire huffed. "Well, you _did_ invade my home. And your friend called me a monster! I’m allowed to try and throw out an intruder who’s trying to steal my food. I went to a great deal of trouble to acquire them all, you know!" The vampire glared at Dipper.

"They’re not food! They’re people!" Dipper protested, gripping his staff. The vampire raised an eyebrow, because, to a vampire, those were one and the same.

"--Very tasty people, with whom I unfortunately share a species, but luckily _don’t_ have to share my intellect with, let alone converse with, _if I don’t want to_ ," Bill sighed out, casting a glare Dipper’s way.

Dipper glared back.

"Some people are _not_ so very enlightened, despite being halflings and elves who have no real stake in said potential for being part of your food supply," Bill added, and Dipper nearly slapped himself in the forehead as he remembered that neither of those species were considered particularly appetizing to vampires. (Not when compared to humans or dwarves, since the more innately magical a species was, the harder the blood was for a vampire to ‘convert’ as it digested it.) "So, really, when it comes to a discussion, they’re more of the unthinking and inedible ‘muscle’ to get me here in one piece to talk to you, rather than the ‘brains’, if you catch my meaning."

"So, if you’re really here to talk, then talk." The vampire sat down on his chair, crossing one leg over the other primly. Dipper took this chance to look around the room and blinked at the fact that it really looked like a house on the inside, here. It actually… kind of reminded him of that makeover that Mabel had given the Handwitch’s cave, but less… colorful.

"Tell me," Bill said, "Exactly _how annoying_ is it to have to feed and water these easily-Charmed idiots, only to have them _still_ drop over dead on you, one after the other, within the span of a single lousy month?"

The vampire groaned. "It’s the _worst!_ " he complained. "You know they can’t survive on just eating rats and things? They _need_ fruits and vegetables and all sort of other stuff, or they start getting sick. _And_ they drank half the water out of my spike trap reservoir just the other day! --Do you have any idea how _hard_ it is to refill that thing all on my own out here?!" the vampire griped out next.

Dipper stared at this. (Ford slowly pulled his knees in towards his chest, then buried his head in his hands. He looked like he wanted to be literally _anywhere_ but sitting where he was, listening to what he was, just then.)

" _Well_ \--" Bill began, with a grin on his face and lacing throughout his entire tone.

...and Ford _shuddered_ in place.

"--Hey, hold up," Stan said, feeling more than a little worried about his brother just then. Dipper and Mabel glanced over at him, then over at their other Great-Uncle, and they both didn’t just stop at looking worried at him -- they both shoved themselves to their feet and moved over to sit down beside him, on either side of him.

Mabel snuggled in close. Dipper sat very close by him, not quite comfortable enough to do what Mabel was doing without something of an invitation from his Great-Uncle.

"Ford…" Stan said slowly, as his brother took in several deep breaths, and then let them out again.

He saw his brother shake his head twice, but not raise it, and Stan glanced over at the kid, who had only _now_ turned to face Ford, blinking.

"Bill--?" Stan began.

"--No," Ford said quickly, and he sounded a little shaky. Stan frowned at this.

Bill blinked slowly, and then his eyelids fell a little low.

"Other dimensions he hasn't talked about to you yet, I’m not supposed to talk about first. Remember?" was Bill’s contribution to this mess. "I could talk about a few things _here_ \--"

" _What?_ " Ford breathed out lifting his head abruptly, then looking more than a little alarmed. "--No!!"

"--but that Stanford doesn’t know about any of the things I did _here_ that are _similar_ enough… to…" Bill trailed off, then looked away as his expression shifted around several times, looking as though he was about to -- but not quite going so far as to -- choose (or transition) between a nasty wide grin and an annoyed frowning grimace.

Ford was looking pale as anything now, and looking at his hands where they were gripping the sides of his knees, his knuckles were almost white.

"Don’t--" Ford began, as he went paler, and paler. "You can’t--" And paler still. " _Don’t_ \--"

"...talk about anything in your _Mindscape?_ " Bill said slowly, as his expression finally began to levelling out. "That counts as ‘events in this dimension’ too, you know."

" _Don’t_ \--" Ford said, and he sounded even shakier.

"Bill--" Dipper began, sounding like he was winding up for a ‘stop’.

Miz sighed. "Should we take a break?" she asked, looking around at everyone.

Bill closed his eyes for one long moment, then let out a sigh.

"My character pulls out that fireball scroll from my side pouch and casts it," Bill said, sounding neutral, even though his expression was one of pure annoyance, as he turned back around to look at the vampire his character was facing. "Aim centered on the vampire's feet; unique boots make a unique easy-to-focus-on target there, shouldn’t be able to dodge _that_ as a target too easily, even if the ‘talking monster’ _does_ make his ‘shrink-down-into-a-small-bat-before-I-die, _oops_ that didn't work because he didn't aim at my head or chest like an idiot!’ roll."

Miz rolled her dice, grimaced and the vampire screamed as he ignited from the five-foot radius fireball that hit him, unable to make his DEX save (neither into vampire bat form, nor to dodge away from the high-level 'homing' fireball spell either given the target Bill had defined).

Dipper and Mabel winced as the vampire burned. The fire blurred out the details but it wasn’t a very nice image either as he died and slumped over, dead beyond undeath. Undead had a weakness to Fire damage after all, and taking a Fireball head-on… after rolling a crit fail on his save (adding insult to injury) was...

"Congratulations, Pine Tree," Bill said blandly, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his arms and then chin on them himself. "You get your dead vampire. Hooray. Problem _‘solved’_."

" _Kid_ ," Stan gritted out at him, slowly rising to his feet, because _how the **hell** was that helping--_

"He’s better with watching me killing people than talking at them," Bill said flatly, as he watched the vampire’s corpse finish burning and crumple down into dust, and then closed his eyes fully. "In case you hadn’t noticed that yet."

...It didn’t help that when Stan glanced away from the demon, fists clenched at his side, to look at his brother...

...that Ford _did_ seem more relaxed already, as he stared at the still fairly grisly-looking scene. --Not that Ford was _relaxed_ relaxed -- Ford wasn't looking relieved or anything like it -- but he wasn't hunched over quite so much anymore, and he wasn’t gripping at himself quite so tightly, and...

Damnit. What the hell... "How the _hell_ is you talking to _other people_ **worse** than…" Stan wasn’t getting this at all. It wasn’t like the kid had been doing anything completely out there, with this. The kid hadn’t been trying to mess with Ford. And yeah, this thing had been a little messed up, with the vampire talking about people like ‘livestock’ and the kid (in character) not calling him out on it like Dipper had been. But the kid had made it pretty clear real early on in the campaign what he was planning on doing once they’d gotten to that dumb old vampire in its lair. There were no surprises there; he hadn’t sprung anything ugly on the kids at the last second there. And hell, Stan had been more worried about what the kids might think of it than Ford, up until Ford had… It had just seemed like your standard negotiate-and-grab to him, with maybe a setup for some stab-in-the-back later if need be, in case the vampire-guy tried to pull some kinda double-cross or them or something. Stan had pulled some fast-talking stuff during some of their sessions, and...

Then Stan blinked as he realized... _he_ had pulled all the fast-talking stuff during those sessions. _Not_ the kid. The kid had let him take the lead in everything, _including_ the talking. Stan had effectively been the party leader for those sessions -- either him or Mabel, while Dipper had been DM’ing. The _kid_ had been playing a supporting-role almost exclusively, every single time something had come up, and had always passed things over almost immediately to Stan (or Mabel, if she went and cut in all bubbly-excited and stuff over things), once the Persuasion stuff worked well and long enough for Stan himself to...

"Some fates are worse than death," Bill said, looking down and away from the hologram in front of him. "Guess what one of those things that _causes_ those 'fates' is, that that Stanford _consistently_ puts on that list, right at the very top of it."

...Oh. Oh, _shit_. Stan looked over at Ford, who was… refusing to look at him at all now.

Oh, goddamnit. That-- _shit._ \--No wonder Ford had completely lost his shit at Stan ‘taking the kid’s side’ in that other dimension. Because with the way Ford had acted over the thing that had happened with the demon-kid talking to that teacher, and the way Ford was acting about stuff _now_... He must’ve thought that _the kid_ had talked _him_ around, into--

Stan almost told Ford off all over again -- that the kid was on _his_ side, **not** the other way around. But he stopped himself, barely, because he knew that wouldn’t help. Ford didn’t see it that way; heck, the kid _barely_ saw it that way himself. And Ford would just think… hell, that he was _lying_ , maybe, if he tried to say otherwise? Because that was maybe what somebody the kid had talked into doing _whatever_ for him would try and _trick_ Ford into thinking, for him?

Hell, Ford had got paranoid about this kind of stuff, still, even before Bill had come back; that Stan might be being controlled by Bill and lying to him, or pretending, or something. He'd had a couple bad nights on the boat, way back when, a whole bunch of months ago now, where he'd practically tackled Stan to the bed and demanded to (read: forcibly ripped off Stan's glasses and then physically held him down to) perform a check of Stan's eyes, looking for 'yellow slits' or whatnot...

(After the first couple of times, Stan had mostly just given up, rolled his eyes, and let him do it, instead of trying to shove back or complain or anything else. It had been easier -- and less stressful on Ford, who had pretty much refused to calm down _until_ he'd checked Stan over -- to just let Ford do what he'd needed to do, to convince himself that stuff was really fine, and all that. That Bill wasn't controlling or in-control of his brother, and really-truly-actually _still_ gone. But now…?)

Stan let out a deep sigh. Damnit, this was worse than he’d thought. Having Ford check his eyes out again wasn't going to fix this one, not when Ford was afraid that the demon-kid maybe might've done one of those convincing- _inspiring_ 'enlightenment' things to him.

...And now he was starting to see the larger problem, of the kid _not_ killing his problems anymore maybe making _Ford_ lose his damn mind over the kid _not_ doing that. ...Which was really just _great_ there, leaving the kid damned if he did, and doubly-damned if he _didn't_ , when the ' _didn't_ ' was what Stan wanted out of the kid most days. (Damnit. _No wonder_ the kid thought he wouldn’t be able to pull this thing off, to get Ford to go along with this stuff, why the kid had insisted Ford was going to be a problem to the agreement that Stan couldn’t ‘solve’ -- not really protesting all that hard from the get-go, but only _after_ Stan had started insisting that he--)

Stan let out a sigh and scratched the back of his head.

"I’m thinkin’ we can probably call the session done now, yeah? If nobody says ‘no’ because they want to keep goin’ to figure out the rewards back at town at the end," Stan said, looking around at all of them. The twins nodded, and Bill didn’t respond. (Damn. That was a big one, the kid giving up the chance to negotiate terms on a payment come due.) Miz seemed to shrug it off, luckily, taking down the hologram and starting to clean up her DM area behind the screen, thought she didn’t look entirely happy as she did it -- either at the ending outcome, or at having to leave it there.

"Kid," Stan said slowly (as the kids slowly relaxed as they realized Ford was feeling a little bit better), because damn it all, if he didn’t ask this now... "There a _reason_ why you haven’t talked about anything that happened inside Ford’s head--"

\--Stan was taking a quick reflexive step back, and he didn’t really realize _why_ until about a second later, when he realized Ford was on his feet and--

"-- _That’s_ why," Bill said, turning his head to look up at them both -- with a _very_ pale Ford standing not two feet away from Stan, shaking in place and halfway through the swing of a punch, barely keeping himself from following through on it, even though Stan had already visibly and physically backed down from asking his question.

"...Grunkle Ford?" they both heard Mabel breathe out, and Stan watched as his brother went even oaler still.

"It's okay," Stan said slowly, as he tried to keep his breathing even, rather than panicked. "It's okay, Ford. I won't ask…" (And Stan wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to keep his voice mostly level there. Because Ford had looked about ready to take his head off at the neck with one punch ~~and still kind of did~~ …)

"And I won't tell you if you do," was Bill's (surprising) contribution to that. "Not unless you override Pine Tree, who is against mental attacks, and that Stanford sees that as one, _clearly_." Bill looked away from them both and stood up slowly himself, brushing himself off. "And maybe not even then."

"...Yeah?" Stan said, and he wondered why Ford was looking even a little _more_ panicked at this, even as his brother began to lower his arms...

"Yes, 'yeah'." Bill let out a slight huff of breath at this, one that Stan couldn’t even call a laugh if he was being charitable. "And you people think that I can’t keep secrets. _Really_."

"Fine," Stan said, blinking at this. This was new. (How much of this was because of…?) He forced himself to take in one slow breath. "You keep on doing that," he ground out at the kid. Because, hell, that wasn't what he'd been expecting, right there. Not outta _the kid_. But...

"I--" Ford stopped mid-sentence, shivered in place again, a bit wide-eyed, then swallowed. "I’m… going to my bedroom," he said finally, as he slowly pulled back away from Stan, and Stan couldn’t help but wince at the way his brother was balancing on the balls of his feet, like Ford was (still) expecting a (physical) hit from any direction. (...So he'd been meaning to take the first swing first?) "You can finish out the session if you’d like," Ford said lowly, as he backed up, then half turned away from them as he began to walk off, "But I am **not** watching or listening to _any_ of it."

Stan watched him go, as did the niblings. Miz stopped what she was doing, and glanced back up at them. (Bill, meanwhile, seemed to be thoroughly ignoring him.)

Dipper glanced around at them all, shifting from foot to foot and feeling unsure how he should feel about any of this.

Stan looked after Ford, then looked down at the niblings and let out a deep sigh.

"Yeah, okay. Might as well finish it all out, then," Stan said, making the decision there and pulling the trigger. "Figure you all can take the five minutes or whatever to do that, make it a clean end to the session or whatever." He slowly walked the few steps back over, to sit back down where he’d been sitting before, in his chair.

Dipper didn’t really want to do that, and from the look on her face, neither did Mabel, but...

(Dipper _really_ didn’t like weighing ‘five minutes and Great-Uncle Ford will probably be feeling more calmed down without us there, than feeling worse _because_ we’re there with him and he's feeling so bad that he can't hug us, and worse because he'll flinch away again if we try’ against a ‘what if this time he actually _needs_ us _right now_ , instead?’ Knowing that Grunkle Stan probably didn’t really want them stopping the session part-way if they could help it -- because he’d not wanted Bill to walk away from the table as a player from a game without a ‘clean end’ either -- because he didn’t want to set a bad precedent for future sessions that _Dipper_ would be DM’ing...)

...At least Bill himself didn’t look all that thrilled to be finishing it all out either, even if Miz perked up a little.

They piled up the ashes in a small bag as proof, Bill generally not doing much other than what Mabel asked him to do -- and even then not being very vocal or 'high energy' about it. (Dipper guessed that Bill was still pissed off at using the fireball scroll instead of finishing the deal he'd wanted to do; Dipper didn't really get _why_ that was, though. He'd thought that Bill liked doing both things equally: making deals and killing people, or whatever.)

Even when Dipper and Mabel helped the villagers up and led them back out of the cave, got them all back to the village safely and had a celebration in honor of their success, it felt worse than hollow to Dipper.

Mabel didn’t look like she’d enjoyed this ending either, though Miz tried very hard to make it better, having Remus and his pack become allies with the humans in the village, protecting them from other monsters in exchange for being left alone to their territory in the woods.

The NPC woman had a tearful reunion with her (luckily, still-alive and fine after the Charmed status wore off after the vampire's death) sister, and she thanked the party profusely. The mayor of the village granted them a lot of gold and even their own plot of land within the village. Still, Dipper couldn’t really feel happy with any of it. ...And he was starting to think that it didn’t actually have anything to do with playing with Bill in the same party, or having the demon who’d hurt their Great-Uncle before ( _multiple times_ now) DM’ing it, or…

Dipper hadn’t really been enjoying the game _before_ Great-Uncle Ford had lost it at Bill being Bill. And now he just felt distracted and worse as he worried about what their Great-Uncle must be thinking of them, continuing to play the game without him watching, continuing to play it through with the two demons even though _he_ had felt...

They got to the end of it, and both Stan and Miz called it. Mabel was up and out of the living room almost immediately, heading for Grunkle Ford’s room like a shot.

Miz took her time in packing up everything, then handed it over to Dipper and looked down at her lap.

"You know, back when I was human, there was a boy in my group that most of us didn’t want to play with," she spoke up, as Dipper took his things back from her, and Dipper paused in place. "He wasn’t a bad kid, a little annoying maybe, but he always treated the game like he could do whatever he wanted without consequence."

Dipper frowned at her. "...Okay?" he said, not knowing where she was going with this. (Was she talking about _Bill?_ )

"Like he never treated the NPCs like they were people." (Yeah, okay. Definitely not Bill, then. Bill treated NPCs like people; he just didn't treat people very well.) "And he would get mad when they didn’t do what he wanted them to do." (On second thought… were they talking about stuff not in-character in the game, or…?) Miz smiled wryly. "Like when he wanted to ask an NPC girl out on a date." (Dipper blinked at her, feeling kind of weird about this already.) "He came to her with flowers and all but demanded that she go out with him. She turned him down. He insisted, claiming that he killed the man who had harassed her a while back, as if she owed him a date for doing so." Miz’s smile turned more bitter. "She refused him again. And, since she was at work, had security escort him out of the premises. So every one of us at the table told him to stop, because he was being rude. But he made his character wait outside the girl’s workplace until she got off work, at night, and then tried to follow her home." Miz was outright glaring at this point.

Dipper frowned. "Um… okay," Dipper said. "So the guy was being a real creep and a jerk. Why are you telling me this?" (And it was about this point that Dipper slowly glanced around and realized that Grunkle Stan was no longer in the room…)

(He was fine; Grunkle Stan was probably with Great-Uncle Ford in his bedroom down the hallway. That was within yelling distance, and then some. And it wasn't like Bill or Miz could go casting 'no sound' spells inside the mystical barrier, down here...)

"We kicked him off the table. For obvious reasons. But not before the DM was forced to have his character arrested and sent to an asylum, to show the kid the consequences of his actions."

"...Okay?" Dipper said. That seemed like a standard kind of DM response to bad behavior at the table, to him. What was wrong with kicking a bad… wait. She wasn’t trying to say that Great-Uncle Ford had been acting…? --He hadn’t even been playing! And _she’d_ been the one to upset _him_ , along with Bill, not the other way around! Dipper’s frown started to turn into more of a glare.

Miz shook her head. "The problem was, the kid never realized what he was doing wrong. He didn’t see why the NPCs and the three girls, including me, in our game group, were so upset by his behavior. Because he didn’t see why it would matter what he did in the game, since it was just a game." Miz looked up at Dipper. "And you know, for someone who can just throw around their power to do whatever they wanted, like killing people for EXP or being able to just buy magic items that can let you reshape reality itself, that type of mentality is sadly quite common."

"Because it’s a game," Dipper said, frowning. "But if everybody at the table’s okay with letting loose once in awhile, what’s the problem with that? People play ‘bad guy’ characters that are evil sometimes, too." That was what the alignment system was for.

"OH? --You should be careful when you talk about DDNMD with that Stanford from now on, Pine Tree," Bill said, staring off and away through one of the windows of the Shack, not really facing him. "He might think you’re starting to sound too much like ME."

Dipper was taken aback at this. "You don’t play DDNMD like that." At least, he hadn’t since they’d been playing… _Wait._ Had Bill played DDNMD with _Great-Uncle Ford?_ (...Oh no. If he had, then that would explain--)

Bill looked over at him, then, and then rose to his feet, giving him a wide, wide grin.

" _Really_ , Pine Tree," Bill drawled out at him. "Why should _I_ care about what happens in some silly _game?_ \--With you, with Shooting Star," he said, gesturing about, though not looking away from him all the while, and Dipper glared, "With _that Stanford_ , for thirty-three years and counting…" Dipper took a step back, eyes widening. "Why should I care about _consequences_ , when everything is so much _fun!_ \--Murder-hobo that _vampire_ ," Bill gestured down at where that hologram had been, feeling more than a little off-balance all of a sudden, "Toss that _puppet_ off of that water tower--" (Dipper went straight-backed, sucking in a quick breath.) " _Why not??_ \--There isn’t really any _difference_ there, between _any_ of it, _is_ there, Pine Tree?" Bill said to him, "As long as it’s _FUN?_ " he added, getting right up in his face with that grin.

Dipper flinched, shaking his head at Bill -- who was being-- _why_ was he?! This wasn't--!! He could _see_ the look in Bill's eye, and he was being--

\-- _sarcastic_ , even if he didn't look or sound like it otherwise, you had to look at his eyes to really see it and _check_ , and _Bill was being_ \--

And Dipper felt confused and dizzy for a moment, at the way Bill had been jumping back and forth between the DDNMD game and reality, reality and the game. But only for a moment.

And then Dipper finally _got_ it.

"That’s… _you_ …" He shivered slightly in place and slowly looked away from Bill, and over at Miz. "That’s a little like..." He swallowed. "A demon. ...Right?" Because Great-Uncle Ford… some of the things that he’d said, down in the basement… treating everything like a game and not caring, because… people weren’t real people to them?

...Just like how the NPCs in DDNMD didn’t _really_ matter ~~...unless the other players thought that maybe they didn’t want to play things that way, _that session_~~?

" _Welcome to The Game_ ," Bill practically purred out at him, as he straightened up and tossed his arms out to the sides in an all-encompassing gesture, grinning even wider. "We can die, but that’s half the _fun!_ \--After all, _we_ don’t stay dead like _you_ do!" Bill dropped his hands and leaned forward towards him a little bit (and Dipper fought the urge to back up away from him, though he did clutch the DDNMD box to his chest and lean back a little bit). "Why worry about the _little people_ living and dying and doing anything and everything in-between," Bill added, still grinning widely at him, "When you can just _spin up_ a new role, and try and try again!"

Miz sighed. "I don’t like games where you’re forced to kill in order to progress. But most games are like that. Especially RPGs." she shrugged. "And sometimes, life feels like an unfair RPG…"

"--Among other things!" Bill enthused out at him-- at them _both_.

Dipper twitched. "Real life _isn’t_ a game!" he told them both, to which Miz sighed.

"Tell that to the people who think it is," she grimaced. Immortals and gods, those who were powerful enough to do whatever they wanted without anyone being able to stand against them...

"-- _Demons_ , not ‘people’," Bill said. "Unless they’re delusional or worse! --Let’s be clear about our terminology, here. Don’t want to get Pine Tree all _confused_ about things!" he said next.

Dipper glanced between them. "Do _you_ think real life is just a game?" he asked Miz roughly. He had it from Great-Uncle Ford already that Bill Cipher sure did, and the way Bill was acting just then was doing anything but proving Great-Uncle Ford wrong.

Miz sighed. "Well, I don’t…" She paused. "Well, I don’t go around killing people willy-nilly for fun or 'EXP', my dimension doesn't grant it for killing people. But I won’t lie and say I haven't gotten frustrated and taken out my frustrations on people before. But I don’t kill them. My dimension has Time Baby breathing up my ass about rolling back stuff, so I can’t just make it so the things I’ve done never happened. I have to live with the consequences of what I do. And there have been people I’ve killed when I lost control of my powers, which was my fault and I still feel bad about." Miz grimaced. "And dad snatches up the souls of anyone who dies, so I can’t bring them back to life unless I’m right there to grab onto them before _he_ does. So I can’t just go around killing people, nor do I want to. Even if dad wasn’t snatching stuff up, I don’t like to kill innocent people because I don’t like how it makes me feel bad."

Dipper stared. He’d barely followed any of that. She had a Time Baby that was stopping her from messing with time, okay, but… her _dad_ was stealing people’s _souls?_ The _heck???_

"I--" Dipper was starting to feel a little freaked out. He wanted away from them **now**.

"Look, I _like_ people, most of the time. Even if they don’t like me back." Miz rubbed her arm. "And I can go around and do what I want, if I wanted, I’m strong enough. But it makes me feel bad. Emotionally. When I do that." she seemed almost embarrassed to admit it. "So whether or not everything might be a game…" ~~(Or a children’s cartoon show...)~~ "I don’t…" Miz rubbed her face. "I don’t think of you as ‘just some NPC’, alright? You’re a person and I respect that." Because Dipper might be a cartoon character, but Miz still thought of him, and everyone else she’d ever met in this life, as a person.

"And you’re my Zodiac," Bill contributed to the discussion with a smile. "You’re _mine_."

"R-right," Dipper said a little shakily, as he backed up a step. "I’m, uh, I’m gonna go see Great-Uncle Ford now..."

And with that, he turned and quickly walked off and out of the room, DDNMD box clutched to his chest.

Miz watched him go and sighed. "Why is he so afraid of me?" she asked quietly. "Why is everyone always so afraid of me?"

Bill placed a hand on her head. "Because you’re capable of hurting him."

"...even if I’ve told him that I won’t?"

"Yes." Bill nodded. "He doesn't trust you. He has no reason to. And he's smart enough to know that you could just change your mind at some point, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it."

"And how is making me feel unwelcome supposed to prevent me from changing my mind…"

Bill turned his head to look down at her. "Do you feel unwelcome?" he asked seriously.

Miz rubbed at her eyes. "Sometimes. But I feel like maybe I’ve done something to make people not like me. And I don’t know what it is."

Bill chittered with an annoyed look. "Well, if that Stanford wasn't being so _difficult_..." Then Bill shook his head. "Your problem is likely _me_ ," Bill told her next. "People who know _me_ make certain assumptions about the people I associate with. So…" In most dimensions, that meant people being very careful to fall all over themselves to please, or else. It also meant a lot of fear, overall. Sometimes, it meant a great deal of respect, too -- but that was almost restricted solely to dimensions in which Bill had almost complete and utter overwhelming control. Ones where he was worshipped, almost like a god...

"...but I don’t want to _not_ associate with you, just because they don’t like you. I like you." Miz bit her lip. People who stopped being friends with their friends just because they wanted to be popular were awful people and she wasn’t going to be like that. She liked Bill. He was her big brother now, and she loved him. He… he _wanted_ to be her brother, he wanted to be her **family** \-- that...

(He had accepted her so easily, wholeheartedly loving her back and trying in his own clumsy way to be a good brother to her, even when he had no idea _how_ \--)

"I wouldn't be angry with you if you did," Bill told her. He would be sad, yes, but not angry. "Just tell me first, and I can help." Because he would help her sell it. (It would be difficult to talk with her after, what with him not being able to get into the Mindscape currently, because of the anchor currently holding him down, but…) She was his little sister. If improving her reputation meant her distancing her reputation from his own, somehow, then...

"If I was the type of person who would throw away someone I loved just to get other people to like me, then I’d _really_ be an awful person." Miz leaned against Bill, pressing her face into his chest. "I’m not going to do that. I love you big brother."

"I love you, too," Bill told her easily. "But that doesn't mean that you have to agree with me in fights with others, or defending me to others, all of the time. --That's MY job as big brother, not yours." Bill smiled and patted Miz on the head again before he had to head off to deal with some of his stupid human-ish body’s needs. (For one thing, there was the bathroom, and for another, more food. He was paying a little closer attention to his stupid human-ish body these days, and when he started feeling that _particular_ version of annoyed… that usually meant more food was needed.) Miz took a glance out the window and saw that the sun was beginning to set.

\---

The game had lasted for most of the day. They’d taken a lunch break in the middle and the sun was going down now. It was almost time for dinner. Miz was slumped over a beanbag chair in the attic while everyone else was getting ready for dinner.

"Did I do good? Or did I mess up again?" she asked herself about the DDNMD game. No answer came since she was alone in the room, but Miz sighed and rolled over.

There was something she’d been putting off. Mostly because she still wasn’t sure how to do it, and partially because it was so _awkward_.

Apologizing to that Stanford.

After meeting Mini, and hearing about what sort of person Fister had been...

...well, that Stanford almost seemed _nice_ in comparison. And was definitely a better brother to Stan than his original brother. Not that Stan knew.

Miz sighed. She wasn’t even all that mad at him anymore.

So she didn’t have an excuse to _not_ apologize.

"Uuuugh~ this is gonna suuuuck~" she groaned.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Would Stan or Ford realize that Miz is trying to send a message with this game? Well, Ford seems to have missed the point >.>  
> Perhaps Miz would have to just make people play Undertale to really get the point she's trying to make...
> 
> **My AN:**  
> ...Yes, I will be writing those prior DDNMD sessions for y'all eventually. If you want to know _when_ they happened timeline-wise, more specifically, it was way back during that week between when -A Bill [first started reading the WWTD blog](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16303577) (and read about that house being set on fire and mostly burning down), and when he [sent in those "long plans"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351346) to the WWTD trio. Because the time-desynchnorization-between-dimensions issue was also a thing for him, as well.


	25. Chapter 93: Don't know when

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> A messed up apology and some trigger warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original AN:  
>  **Trigger warning for mentions of child abuse.**
> 
> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 106 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/47662504). It was first posted on Aug 5, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\-----

Ford glared down at Miz during dinner, not completely hostile but certainly nothing like comfortable with the way she was staring at him, either.

" _What?_ " he said finally. That demon dragon had been sneaking glances at him all throughout dinner.

Miz took a deep breath and frowned before shaking her head. "I’m sorry. For saying mean things that hurt your feelings that first night," she blurted out. "It was really rude of me to do so, and I didn’t realize you would be so upset by it. So, I’m sorry. I’m also sorry that you got upset during the DDNMD game."

" _Hurt my_ \--?!" Ford sputtered. Was the demon being serious? _That_ was what she thought the problem was?! Miz shuffled her feet against the ground. "Yeah. I said some mean things about you and your character and also, you’re not a freak. You’re a flawed human being just like everyone else," she said quietly. Ford clenched his teeth. She’d called him a freak at some point?

"Oh, he _is_ a freak," Bill said lazily, and Ford looked up and gave him a glare.

" _Bill_ ," Stan said, none too happy with the kid at the moment. Bill looked over at him. "Don’t call my brother a freak," Stan told him.

"YEAH!" chimed in Mabel, while Dipper looked a little worried and tugged down on his hat. Was another argument going to start?

"Why not?" Bill asked, blinking. "He is one." It left Stan feeling frustrated and angry, because Bill wasn’t saying it like he was making fun of his brother; he’d said it like he’d say, ‘that’s a cup of tea.’ (And Stan wasn’t sure how to approach this right then, because if he told Bill to define ‘freak’ and what the kid said was _worse_...)

"Actually, polydactylism isn’t all that uncommon, there’s like… a whole village of humans where everyone has six fingers…" Miz pointed out (to Dipper’s surprise, was Miz actually trying to… help?).

"Having a fully-formed, fully-functional sixth finger _is_ uncommon for humans in this dimension," Bill told her, with an eye roll at having to correct her. "What’s your point?"

"Well, he’s built different, but that doesn’t make him a freak. All humans have small little mutations here and there." Miz shrugged. "Like, my pinky toenails grow sideways. I got that from my human mom, who got it from her mom…" (Stan had been about to stop this conversation, but when Miz had actually kind of _defended_ Ford, almost _properly_ …)

"HA!" said Bill, finally ‘getting it’ as far as he was concerned. "--You mean the _human_ definition of ‘freak’!" He grinned a grin that Stan really did _not_ like, and--

"Yeah, no--" Stan was pulling the plug on this, right now. "--we’re gonna stop right there," Stan said. "Don’t wanna know the demon definition for that one. --Bill, Ford likes being called a ‘freak’ about as much as _you_ like being called ‘stupid’ in any language. _And I know you know that._ So keep it under your hat." Bill eyed him, but he kept his mouth shut and didn't continue from where he'd left off.

(Ford was doing deep breathing and managed not to let it get to him. ...or at least not completely lose his temper.)

"Are you actually being serious right now," Ford said flatly to Miz. At this point, he felt thoroughly offended. (‘Pinky toenails growing sideways.’ _Truly._ Who was she trying to fool, or impress, here?! ~~…Perhaps _Bill_ , somehow?~~)

"Yeah, I want to apologize. I’m sorry for hurting you that first night. I don’t know _everything_ exactly that I said that hurt you. Only that most of it did, and I wanted to apologize for it." Miz looked up and huffed out a breath. "Can you explain it to me? So I can apologize better for the parts I don’t get? The only part I could understand was that my existence upset you, and that I hurt your feelings when I called you stupid and ah, other things..." Miz winced.

Having a demon apologize for _hurting his feelings_ , without even knowing what she did wrong, made Ford unsure if he wanted to scream at her or laugh hysterically. The entire concept was absurd. He glared down at her, as Miz continued to look confused (and a little frustrated). "--How can you _possibly_ be ‘sorry’ if you don’t even know what you did wrong?" Ford demanded out of her, continuing to scowl down at her.

Miz sighed. "I worked in retail and food service as a human, apologizing to people even when I didn’t know what I did wrong was pretty much the FIRST thing I had to learn to do!" because of that ‘the customer is always right’ bullshit. "But more than that, I’m apologizing because you got upset. Which means I hurt you. And I feel bad that I did, and I want to avoid doing so again, but to do that I need to know what it was that I did wrong." That seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to want to do. "I understand some stuff that upset people, but I don’t always catch them all."

Ford was _not_ feeling at all inclined to play this demon’s game. He also didn’t feel very happy when Stan spoke up and said, "Look, Ford don’t like the idea of demons in general, yeah? Or being called names and junk. Or getting messed with. --Take your pick."

Miz grumbled quietly, "As if I CHOSE to be a demon, I didn’t really get a say in that…"

"--You choose how you act!" Ford said. "And if there truly _are_ different kinds of demons, then you _certainly_ aren’t going about trying to differentiate yourself from any of the _rest_ of them with your constant and repetitive displays of demon-standard behavior!"

"So what? What should I behave like? What should I _ACT_ like? You want me to be like what you _thought_ YOUR Jessie was like instead? All ‘ooh~ look at me~ I’m all holier than thou~’ or something? That’s not who I am!" Miz twitched in place at what little she’d managed to See about the Oracle in this world. A demon who went around acting like some divine creature? Well, to each their own, whatever. It made Miz grateful for her own Jessie.

Ford shuddered slightly at her unfair (and untrue) characterization of the Oracle, as he shoved himself to his feet in a rush and slammed a fist down into the table in his anger. "--There are more than two choices, between an actual saint and a monstrous demon!" he glared at her, and practically snarled out, "At least Stanley is trying to have Bill _try_ to act less than horrible from moment to moment!" (Bill glanced over at him at that, blinking. He hadn't thought that Stanford had noticed that he’d been regulating his behavioral output; that Stanford certainly hadn’t seemed to notice or care before, as far as Bill had been able to tell…)

"Jessie ain’t a saint. And I’m not 100% a dick! I’m just… me." Miz actually sounded a little hurt.

(Mabel frowned. Miz wasn’t really as bad as Bill most of the time; she was nice until Grunkle Ford said or did something to set her off. Grunkle Ford would get angry about something, and then Miz would say something worse, and then... That was the problem actually -- Grunkle Ford and Miz always managed to make each other angry, so neither of them got to see each other when they were being nice. And it was like neither of them could back down, or just didn’t want to…)

(Bill was worse, absolutely, but Grunkle Stan could tell him to stop and he’d stop, now. But Miz… she was scary in different ways, and not as often as Bill. It was really hard to remember that she wasn’t normal, sometimes -- even when she had a tail and stuff. Dipper was a lot better at treating her like a ‘cryptid’ all the time…)

Ford firmed his jaw, not caring at the demon’s little play-act at ‘being hurt’ by his _words_ \-- the _truth_ , really. He managed to straighten his posture a bit, pulling back his fist from the table to firmly resituate his glasses, and said rather coldly: "Yes, well, ‘just you’ has managed to… let’s see, think that _feeding on people’s emotions_ and not doing anything about it for six hundred billion years was _just fine_ ; that verbally attacking me on a regular basis when all you know about me comes from _Bill_ , who is an incredibly biased source and an invariant _liar_ , is _just fine_ ; that lying repeatedly about who and what you are to everyone around you is _just fine_ ," Ford gritted out, "While nearly every third topic of conversation that comes out of your mouth is something that at least one or two of us simply cannot listen to without covering our ears--! _Do I need continue?_ "

"Because I’m stupid!" Miz not-quite wailed out at him. "I get mad and I can’t think and I’m d-dumb and just because I can See things doesn’t mean I can UNDERSTAND them! And pretending to be some _thing_ else is the only way I can get away from having to be BILL CIPHER all the time and--" her voice cracked as she shook. "--and I don’t know how else to be! No one’s ever told me how I’m supposed to be!" (The younger twins glanced at each other, while Bill clenched his jaw at hearing this. With a forced casualness, Bill flicked the ebook he’d had open on his phone closed, and slowly put the phone down and away into a pocket.) "Ax just told me I had to be his opposite but I don’t even know what I’m supposed to _do_! And so WHAT if I pretend to be something else?! It’s the only way I can actually go around and not be HATED just for BEING A TRIANGLE! I TRIED to be good! I did! It never worked! Like I would see some people who were starving because their harvest weren’t growing, so I made their crops grow, and they claimed I had CURSED their lands! Then I pretended to be a dragon and did the EXACT SAME thing to make their crops grow and they started WORSHIPING me as their god!" Miz was breathing heavily, trying to hold back tears. "And that wasn’t a one time thing! So what the heck am I supposed to take away from that?!"

Miz's words just made Ford even angrier than before, because to him, stupidity was hardly the issue here, and (as far as he was concerned) neither was her being a triangle. "Being good, doing the right thing, and acting humanely should _not_ be predicated on what you think people think of you, how other people treat you, or what they say!" Ford said angrily to Miz. (Knowing her, Ford assumed that the "exact same thing" had likely been anything _but_... assuming she wasn't just lying about that outright. And _why_ would a _Bill Cipher_ of any stripe feel compelled to be the opposite of the Axolotl, simply because the Axolotl _told_ them to do so. Knowing Bill, _he_ would likely do rather the _opposite_ of that! Which could only mean that _this_ demon was, of course, _lying_ about it.)

" _Did you or did you not used to be human?!?_ " Ford demanded out of her next. "Because one would _think_ that you ought to have some appropriate metric of common decency from _that_ time in your life!"

"What little I can remember from my human life is just…" Miz looked down in frustration. How did one explain that they learned what they knew about interacting with people was learned through media and anime and the few close friends and siblings she had? And even then she never knew-- "I didn’t know how to _be_ even back then… not unless people told me!" she admitted. Because even as a human she had been… weird. Wrong in some way. And she could never properly articulate _why_. (Stan glanced over at her; from some of the stuff she’d said before, he wasn’t surprised. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look.) "I just had a behavioral therapist when I was in elementary school telling me what I was supposed to be like but that was so long ago and--"

"-- _You are not stupid_ ," Bill told his little sister. "And no-one _SHOULD_ tell you how you’re ‘supposed’ to be," Bill said slowly as he addressed the earlier problem as-orated by her, flicking his eyes over to Ford. (Ford stared back at him firmly. That had Dipper and Mabel exchanging another look.) "You can act however you like! And if _Stanford_ here is wanting you to conform to ‘ _humane_ human behavior’," Bill said almost ponderously, "Then he should be VERY CAREFUL what he wishes for," Bill ended with some weight. He tilted his head at Ford. "There are more than a few human ' _civil_ izations’ that practice bloodsport and torture on a regular basis--"

"--Not anymore!" Ford protested strongly.

"--and slavery NOW, and eating dead people NOW, and committing mass genocide NOW, and--"

"--That isn’t considered normal behavior anywhere, Bill!" Ford protested, cutting Bill off.

"It is in some places!" Bill countered. "And it is HUMAN behavior," Bill shot back quite pointedly. "‘ _Normal_ ’ is a human delusion!"

"I did _not_ say she needed to conform to _anything_ in the range of ‘normal human behavior’, however _you_ wish to define it," Ford snapped back. "I was talking about _common decency_ \--" of which, as far as Ford was concerned, the greater part of humanity _was_ an example--

"--'Decency’ isn't _common_ ," Bill began, looking annoyed, "It's _relative_ at _best_ \--"

("Didn’t Miz say that the president was a Nazi, back when she was human?" Mabel asked Dipper under her breath. The boy twitched. If the president from her dimension had been a Nazi-- then… what kind of people lived in her country? What had it been like there? Maybe ‘decency’ really wasn’t common where she came from…)

"Ford -- Bill -- _stop!_ " Stan snapped out (not about to let those two try to get into what might pass for a _moral debate_ between them -- there was no way in hell Ford was gonna win one of those with the kid right now, and the kid not being able to convince Ford to his own way of screwed-up thinking would just piss the demon off), and -- thank _somebody_ \-- they both quieted down for the moment, even if they were still glaring daggers at each other.

Miz rubbed at her face. "Eve-even as a human, I would keep upsetting people and I apologized all the time but I wouldn’t know why they were upset until they TOLD me… sometimes I understood and sometimes I just couldn’t!" She didn’t like hurting people’s feelings by accident, or on purpose most of the time either, but she couldn’t FIX this until she knew what was wrong! Seeing that Ford wasn’t going to explain what she did wrong so she would be able to apologize and avoid doing that thing that hurt him again in the future, Miz instead suggested, quietly, meekly, "Would hitting me make you feel better?" Ford stared at her as if she was out of her mind.

Bill reached over and ruffled Miz's hair roughly. "-- _No_ ," he said firmly.

She whined, "I wasn't gonna let him hit me _hard_ \-- I have shields-- it wouldn’t hurt either of us-- I just wanted to know if that would make him feel better…"

Bill grimaced (and got to his feet for more leverage) and ruffled her hair _harder_ , his tone becoming more scolding. "NO. --You DO NOT ask people if _attempting to hurt you_ will make them ‘ _feel better_ ’. YOU DO NOT INVITE ATTACKS UPON YOUR PERSON. **EVER** "

Miz whined while Ford wondered what in the Axolotl’s name _this_ little play was supposed to accomplish. Who did she think she was fooling, here? (As far as he was concerned, she’d just gotten done contradicting herself there. First, she’d said she wanted to be punished for making him ‘feel bad’ so that he would ‘feel better’, then offered to let him hit her to make him feel better, then said that she would use her shield so she would _not_ let him hit her _even if_ that would make him feel better. Therefore, she _didn’t_ actually care how he felt, and _wouldn’t_ go along with any punishment she thought might be devised to do such a thing. Q.E.D.)

(...Except Bill himself seemed to be falling for it somehow. What could that _possibly_ \--? And then Ford went pale. ...And then shook himself. No, this demon-girl was not one of those ‘master manipulators’ Stan was worried about getting their hands on Bill. That was ludicrous. --Bill wouldn’t fall for it anyway. This was just some sort of demonic play at sympathy from the both of them, clearly, with his brother and the niblings as their audience…)

Stan, for his part, groaned. Damn dragon kid just really didn’t get it. Hell, even the kid got it. (Well, _of course_ the _triangle demon_ got it…)

"But isn’t that what he wants? Him and Dipper?" Miz asked her brother. "They don’t think we’re being _punished_ enough for hurting Ford, and for everything I did to them? So if he gets to hit me, he'll feel like I've been punished and would feel better?" She sounded confused.

"--Miz, _stop_ ," Stan said, as Bill began to look even more irritated in the extreme. Miz immediately closed her mouth at hearing Stan tell her to stop. Stan rubbed a hand across his face.

"Kid, physical violence don’t do a damn thing to fix anything like this," Stan told her, and they all knew it. Even... "Listen to your ‘big brother’ on this one, yeah? Don’t _ever_ go asking anyone to hit you, for _any_ reason." (Ford could not believe that his brother was actually humoring her.) And as far as Stan was concerned, Miz was lucky she was asking _them_ and not that little shit Gideon. Damn, that would be a disaster and a half…

"I do _penalties_ ," Stan told her. "You learn from your mistakes -- why you shouldn’t do stupid junk -- and maybe get some practice in at not doing it again. Annoying, maybe. But no hitting, and no hurting. Period." Stan told her. He’d put up with enough of that crap for a lifetime himself; it had never stopped him, only made him want to break shit, or just get angry at the person who did it to him. Stan didn’t even bother to try and touch upon how Bill had said he wanted to take on her penalties for her; that would just be like waving a red flag in front of his brother.

"I can do penalties… if that would…" Miz trailed off meekly. Bill did not look happy at her pronouncement. He ruffled her hair again, angry that she seemed to blame herself for that idiot Stanford breaking HIMSELF.

"It isn’t _you_ ," Bill told her. "It is a stupid thing inside that idiot Stanford’s head. --Pine Tree and Shooting Star and Stanley don’t have a problem with ‘you existing’ or being _who and **what** you are_!" Bill told her. "Other people _DECIDING_ to get upset does not mean it is ‘your fault’ or something YOU should fix!" Bill sounded very pissed off at the very idea of her thinking that the contrary might be true.

"I can clean the Shack?" Miz offered. Bill ruffled her hair again ("Nya!"). Stan really needed to talk to everyone about this. The kids, the demon kids, and his brother. "I don't mind cleaning?" Miz was whining as she tried raised her hands to try and protect her hair from any more mussing. "It would be fine to do some chores? It wouldn't be difficult!"

"I just _told_ you, kid. That ain't the point of a penalty. Just doing chores or cleaning stuff around the Shack has _nothing_ to do with you learning better how _not_ to do what happened between you and my brother, again." Stan sighed.

Ford gave Stan a long look. Ford felt a little upset that this display was… still ongoing. It was disturbing to watch Bill attempt to interact with the smaller demon in a way that was almost… _familial_. Watching the better liar of the two whine and try to fix her hair as Bill ruffled it was distinctly off-putting as well. Ford still didn’t understand what her game was, or why Bill would be falling for it. (Bill wasn’t that good a liar; Ford could (still) tell when he was trying to lie. And so, Ford was fairly certain that what it seemed Bill was doing, was what Bill was actually doing.)

Miz looked over with a frustrated frown, "Ford wants me dead just for _existing_ as who and _what_ I am. I think hitting would be a better alternative in terms of possible solutions for-- eep!" she squeaked when Bill ruffled her hair in a penalizing way again.

"STOP TALKING ABOUT THE HITTING," Bill demanded, doubling-down on the penalizing hair-mussing. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT?!" Miz whined in surrender, her hair in disarray.

Dipper was frowning at Miz. "...Do you _want_ to be hit?" Dipper asked her. He still wasn't sure how Bill felt about pain and bruises; Bill had seemed delighted by it back when he had been puppeting Dipper’s body, but he didn't seem to go out of his way to chase after or inflict pain on himself when his own human-ish body got hurt nowadays. But that didn’t mean Miz was the same way. She hadn’t seemed to try to hurt herself before, but did she enjoy pain? Or was it something else?

Said dragon-demon looked down. "I don't WANT to be hit, but he's mad and I don't know how to make him not mad. And generally if I did something bad, I get hit, that settles things and all is forgiven…" (Bill clenched his jaw again, because why was the hitting talk not stopping?!)

"But Bill doesn’t hit you… does he?" Mabel said, looking over at him. Bill looked absolutely taken aback at the notion, eyes going wide enough that the whites of his eyes were showing as he rocked back on his heels and abruptly pulled his hands back away from her head and hair. (Ford stared. He’d never seen Bill react to _anything_ that way before, let alone the idea of hurting someone, demon or otherwise...)

"Of course brother doesn’t hit me!" Miz defended him. "Ford asked for _human_ things! I’m talking about human things! Back when I was a human child, whenever I did something bad, I got hit. And--"

"-- _Stop_ ," Stan said immediately, leaning forward, but Dipper and Mabel already looked ill.

They were all staring at her. (Bill was straight up white as a sheet. ...Partially because he was internally equating ‘her being hit so long ago’ with what would have happened if that had happened to a young triangle from his own decaying dimension so long ago -- _sudden and immediate **death**_.) Stan took a deep breath. Really. The more he learned about this dragon-lady’s past…

" _There ain't gonna be any hitting_ ," Stan repeated. (Bill’s hands were twitching.)

"But Ford and I are not part of the agreement, he said so himself, so…" Miz sounded legitimately confused. Ford stared at her.

"That doesn’t matter. _Don’t argue with me on this_ ," said Stan, as Bill began to look irritated all over again, his torso shifting side-to-side in that sort of fluid-looking floating-bobbing motion.

Miz shivered and nodded, looking down at her feet. "I--" she started to say quietly, then let out an ‘eep--’

\--as Bill began to muss up Miz’s hair AGAIN. " _ **WHY ISN’T THIS WORKING!!**_ " Bill said with a level of desperate frustration that Stan _recognized_ , as Bill kept mussing up Miz’s hair. "She keeps _doing the thing!_ " Bill said in shrill (hell, almost panicked) tones. Miz whined as she tried to protect her poor hair from the mussing.

Right. Stan took that as his cue. "Kid," Stan said, and he knew he was going out on a limb on this one, but the kid _was_ getting _that_ desperate-- "You want me to step in, here?"

" _Ye_ \--" The kid’s face went through several quick expressions, then, "-- _es_ , maybe, what are you wanting to do," the kid ended on, with something like a great deal more suspicion and reserve.

It didn’t escape Stan’s notice that the kid had _almost_ written him a blank check, there. Stan took a deep breath (even as Ford stared incredulously, having noticed the same thing). "Give her a penalty -- or something _like_ it," he added without stopping. "--She needs to learn _not to do that_. Yeah?"

The kid’s expressions shifted a few more times as Stan watched. It settled on frustrated and grim. "I get a veto. She gets to stop whenever she wants. --You _don’t_ enforce it, she does," the kid said, revising it at the end.

Stan eyed him. "Idea first, then we’ll talk enforcement." The kid paused, then gave him a nod, and Stan turned to the kid’s younger sister and thought for a moment, as she looked on at him, wide-eyed and blinking. He needed something that she’d want to avoid as a consequence, so she’d ‘stop doing the thing’. Like putting nasty-tasting stuff on a toddler’s thumb, to get them to stop sucking it. And… heh. Yeah, okay. _That_ would probably work.

"Miz," Stan said authoritatively. "If you say the word ’hitting’ or ‘hit’ or whatever again, _at all_ when you’re with any of us," because Stan felt like that was definitely gonna be a thing; he wouldn’t be able to ‘remind’ her of stuff anywhere else, and the kid might not be able to either… so trying to get her to enforce this on herself. Stan frowned. "No, scratch that." He needed to come at this… to say it a little differently. "Any time you’re _gonna_ say the word ‘hit’ or ‘hitting’ or anything like that..," yeah, that was better, catching it early _before_ she actually said it, "Say the name of a food you don’t like instead, and think about what it tastes or smells like for a good five seconds." Stan figured that would be a fairly bad and pretty effective ‘aversion therapy’ thing, since the human-demon was big on food so much.

Miz made an upset face. "Ew… like… durians? Ew…" Those were so gross and she never understood why her parents liked them so much.

"Yeah. Sure. Like those." Stan had no idea what those were. "Plus at least three or four other things you don’t like the taste of, like peppers. Switch it up between them." He figured if she had to change it up sometimes, that she couldn’t get used to it enough to be able to handle it, so it’d keep on being just as yuck for her. Stan glanced over at the kid. "--There any way to get her to do that even when she’s not realizing she’s about to say it?" he asked Bill, because Miz really seemed to be saying it without realizing it, almost. "Something automatic?"

"...She could curse herself. --Mildly. Non-permanent. Breakable." Bill said, after a beat. He didn’t want her stuck in a bad situation where she had a spell on herself she couldn’t remove.

Miz shuddered. "So… if I do that… is that… good?" she asked.

"It’ll help you learn not to say the word I just told you you shouldn’t say," Stan corrected her, letting out a breath at Bill being onboard for this; kid had said he'd take her penalties for her, and the kid _didn't_ change his mind often. (He’d tried to make it something like halfway, to give the kid an ‘out’, but... this one was really inching up to one of the kid’s own lines, whether the kid wanted to acknowledge it or not.) "Which you shouldn’t be using, because every time that word comes outta your mouth, you’re practically begging somebody to take advantage of you in a bad way." (...and really freaking out her brother, here. --And for good reason.) How the hell had she even survived this long, pulling shit like that? "--You need to learn _not to do that_. The kid’s right about that. And the kid reminding you and mussing your hair clearly ain’t enough. So you need some other kinda not-so-great reminder."

The kid eyed Stan for a long moment, thinking and assessing (yeah, _of course_ the kid was), then the kid turned to Miz and said to his sister: "Do it."

Miz nodded slowly and raised her hand to begin weaving the Curse within the limitations of the magic-cancelling cuffs and the barrier, a mild one that could be broken at any time, this would be a Reminder, that… would this help to prove that she really WAS trying to do better? She set the parameters, the Input and Output variables and then glanced down at her hand and decided to make a physical marker for the Curse to latch onto, just so she wouldn’t forget it was there, or get stuck with it by forgetting that it was there.

Ford stared at her as she raised her hand, palm-down towards the floor. (No. This wasn’t… The ‘human’-demon wasn’t _actually_ going to--)

A small image appeared on the back of Miz’s hand, that of a mouth with an X over it. She shivered at the feeling of the Curse settling over her.

(Ford stared down at her hand, feeling cold. ‘ _A pretty bit of theater,_ ’ he thought to himself, not believing for one second that the demon would actually do such a thing to herself for no reason.)

To test if it was working, Miz opened her mouth, let out a stunted cry of "Durian?" paused and then ran off to gag over the sink. "Uuuugh…. It’s...w-working…." she shuddered, dry heaving.

"Yeah? Good," Stan said, watching this neutrally. "So don’t do the thing. Got it?" Miz nodded, looking uncomfortable. Bill watched this. He did not look very happy at the moment, with Stan, Miz, or life in general.

Ford just stared incredulously. Those were real gags, as if she was about to throw up but was only holding back through sheer force of will. She even had a few tears forming in her eyes, and... this was a very elaborate trick. It had to be a trick. There was no way she would have Cursed herself just because Stanley had asked her to… or because Bill had… had… had Bill...?

Ford looked over at Bill. The demon was rocking from side to side on his feet, arms crossed and hands fisted under them, looking hugely uncomfortable. (...No. Bill hadn’t somehow _tricked_ her into doing this to herself for his own laughing amusement. No, instead he seemed...)

It was about this point that it occurred to Ford that he’d never really seen Bill acting in a non-adversarial way with another demon, in what _Bill_ had classified as a non-adversarial relationship, before Miz. ...Frankly, Ford hadn’t thought such a thing was _possible_ between demons, an actual normal non-adversarial relationship. Because yes, Bill had his Henchmaniacs, and from what little Ford had seen during Weirdmageddon in the Fearamid (...and at other times, on the other side of the portal...), somehow Bill _had_ managed to keep his demon crew completely in line with him, and unwilling to challenge him, but--

...but…

...and it was at _that_ point that Ford realized that, as far as he knew, actually, none of Bill’s Henchmaniacs _had_ ever challenged Bill Cipher -- not even for the fun of it. And as far as he was aware, all of Bill’s Henchmaniacs had been working for Bill for longer than anyone’s living memory -- and there were galactic civilizations that had member-species within them with a lifespan of several millennia or more. _That_ was an outlier in an otherwise **very** consistent data set: demons just _didn't get along_. Demons weren’t afraid of death; they should have attacked Bill to try and kill him at some point just for the hell of it, within _years_ of associating with him at most, not even a decade or two.

So what could be a possible explanation for such an unheard-of and completely off-the-norm occurrence?

(...Was it possible that Bill was skilled at a very _particular subset_ of lying? A sort of lying predicated by his actions, rather than by his words? But that didn’t make any sense to Ford, either. It certainly didn't explain any _other_ demon's response to Bill, and his possible lying behavior...)

Miz grabbed a cup of juice to drink and wash out the horrid taste she just experienced. It wasn't real, it was mental, but having some sweet lemonade made her feel much better. "How long do I have to keep this active?" she asked Stan as she sipped her drink.

Stan grunted. "Until you stop doin’ it."

Miz sighed, not fully understanding why (if you're bad, you get hurt, punished) but nodding anyway. Well, some people did get upset by self-harm… and this was almost, sort of self-harm? She didn't see the issue… it wasn't like she had asked any random person to hurt her. She’d just asked Ford because he’d seemed like the type who would want her or Bill to suffer in order to feel better about himself (especially since he seemed to believe that demons like them probably deserved it), and she could take a little pain if that might help him ease off the stress inside him. Besides, she wouldn't have actually let herself get hi- _attacked_ in a way that would seriously damage her vessel, a cushioning spell would deal with that, protect her vessel while Ford still got the satisfaction of dealing out punishments, and...

...yeah okay, she could sort of see the problem with that… and Zyun-Kei probably wouldn't like it either… ah… _that_ was the problem. Miz's eyes widened in understanding as she glanced up at Bill.

"I'm sorry," she said, finally getting why he was so upset about this. (Stan raised an eyebrow. Looked like she finally understood. He'd been watching the way her expression changed as she thought about why this was a penalty. Good to know she was able to understand once she actually stopped to think about it.)

Bill breathed in slowly before nodding. "Don't do that again," he said simply.

Miz winced. "I might forget. I forget a lot of stuff. Well, I forget to remember it all the time."

" _Automatic_ curse, _prior_ to verbalization," Bill pointed out, literally pointing at her hand.

She rubbed her hand, over the Curse mark. "I guess I need to wear this for a while."

Bill pulled a face. "Yes." He didn't sound happy about it.

Mabel and Dipper were still a little pale from all this. Because... Miz had gotten hit as a human, enough times that she thought that was _normal_. --It had to be something she thought was normal for humans, because Great-Uncle Ford had told Miz to think about what she did as a human, and she’d almost seemed to think that getting hit was okay, and would 'solve’ things. (Seriously, what the heck?)

Yeah, it kind of made a sick sort of sense that, if Miz really thought that, that would be why Miz might think she should ask if that meant Great-Uncle Ford should hit her. So Dipper understood why she’d asked, kind of. But it was _still_ wrong and she _shouldn't_ have asked, and she _should_ have known that!

Mabel sighed. She found himself a little worried about Miz now. Miz was a demon, who had used to be human. But the more she heard about Miz’s life as a human, the more it sounded like she...

...like she hadn't known how to be ‘normal’ even back then. Heck, she'd even said that, right? --But that should be okay! Being unique and different was okay! ...Except she’d said that she’d gone to a behavioral therapist, who'd apparently told her how she was _supposed_ to be?! What the heck?? The Mabel train was _not_ on-board for that one!

And then she’d ended up a triangle demon somehow with a bunch of demons for friends, which would probably screw _anybody_ up, but she could do better now! And if she didn’t remember what human behavior was supposed to be like anymore, then she _could_ learn it all over again now! ...Kind of like how Grunkle Stan was trying to teach Bill how to not be such a jerk to everybody, maybe? But outright having someone tell her how she was supposed to _be_? That was just plain wrong! …Right?

...And now Mabel's thought process went somewhere else. But she didn't want to ask. Because Miz would tell her. And Mabel wasn't sure she wanted to know.

~~_Who_ could have hit Miz... that could make her think getting hit was normal? And why hadn’t her parents told her otherwise...~~

Mabel took a deep breath before shoving her chair out from the table and stepping down, to stand up. "Hey Miz, can you teach me how to fold paper animals?" she asked, trying to change the subject to something a little happier. She saw Miz brighten a little, though the edges of her expression were still a little sober. --Still, it was something!

Miz nodded, accepting this ‘distraction’. "Okay. I can start you off with something easy. Like a crane. Or a narwhal!" Mabel grinned at this -- she liked sea creatures!

"...How is a narwhal supposed to be easy?" Dipper said, as he watched as Mabel took Miz’s hand (which was trembling a little) and Miz stood up, to start walking off to go upstairs where most of Mabel's art supplies were. They moved off, and Bill stood up to follow, still looking uncomfortable, as Dipper stood up, too. Bill didn’t hesitate in following, but Dipper glanced at his Grunkle and Great-Uncle before doing so -- not wanting to leave Mabel alone with both demons, even if he was actually pretty sure that Miz would never hurt Mabel (purposely at least) and Bill would regret it pretty much immediately if he tried (both Great-Uncle Ford _and_ Grunkle Stan would see to that).

"--One sec, Miz," Stan called out to her. (...Because he figured he'd better damn well make sure of something pretty damn important first, after what they'd all just been talking about here. _Just in case._ ) They all stopped right at the base of the stairs and turned back towards him, human and demon kids both.

"Miz, do you think that hitting Dipper or Mabel or Bill is an okay 'punishment’ or 'penalty’ for them doing something that you don't like?" Stan asked her almost leadingly.

"--No!!" was Miz's immediate and shocked response. Stan nodded.

"Good, because it isn't," said Stan. Then he told her, "It's not an okay 'penalty’ or 'punishment’ for you, either." He left it at that for now; he didn't feel like he needed to get into the details of that with her just yet, if at least she knew that much. "Now go-on upstairs, the lot of ya." Stan waved them and their attention off.

As soon as they were gone, the thumping of their footsteps fading away, Stan let out a breath and slumped back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, sighing; he should just tell Miz to stop trying to speak to Ford. It always seemed to end badly. And…

Stan dropped his hand and glanced over at his brother. "Askin’ her to be human isn't the right way to do this, y’know." Asking her to remember what it was _like_ was one thing, and asking her to remember what somebody she trusted would tell her was another thing, too, but with what she’d just said _right now_...

Ford frowned almost furiously at him. "You really think she was being honest about--"

"--About gettin’ hit when she was human? Yeah. Maybe." There was getting hit, and there was _getting hit_ , but... "Would explain a couple things about her." (Ford let out an angry huff. That _hadn't_ been what he'd been about to ask.) Stan frowned. "What I don't get is why she ain't more upset about it." She hadn't sounded like she was angry at the idea of getting hit. More… sad, maybe? Stan’s frown deepened a little. Actually, taking that with some of the other things she'd said… it almost sounded like maybe she thought she _deserved_ to be hurt. (Which was even _more_ messed up. And something he was pretty sure the kid _hadn’t_ known about before, along with the hitting.) And hey, she _was_ suicidal. So… yeah… damn.

"--She's just playing you! Playing on your humanity!" Ford said angrily, warning him, not least of which because, "For all you know, she's lying about ever being human to begin with!"

Stan rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, then shook his head. Nah, Stan could see how Miz might be wanting to play on his (heh) ‘humanity’ for some sympathy, but… well, not like he had a lot of that to go around these days, for anybody who wasn’t his family. Besides, even if she managed to get one past him (and Stan was pretty damn sure she hadn't yet), she didn't _need_ to lie to get people to react to her the way she wanted them to, to get the things she wanted from them. Stan thought of how easily Miz and Bill had manipulated that con-man with the cup game: no lies, no need. They'd simply used what they already had (how they already behaved) to get what they had wanted: one of those prizes for free, and that booth.

...Then again, that was getting them _things_ , not _people_ , and Stan could see pretty easily where things would start going wrong with that last one with their schtick.

"Look, Ford. Even if she's ‘playin’ on my _humanity_ ’ or whatever, she ain't lying to do it." Stan told his brother. "And it ain't like I'm all that _’oh, poor you, what a terrible sob story’_ , anyway." (Ford couldn’t help but let out a snort at this, and a half-submerged rueful smile.)

"Look, the dragon-lady might have gone about it completely the wrong way and screwed it all up, but you gotta give her credit for one thing here," Stan told him, and this was the important thing that Ford seemed to keep missing out of all of it. "She _was_ tryin’ to apologize to you for the things she said about you, that first night she stayed over here," Stan told his brother, and… yeah, Ford bristled. Of course he did.

"She--" Ford began.

"--She’s got no idea what she’s doing wrong," Stan interrupted. That much, he was pretty damn sure of by this point. "But she just said she wants to learn what she did wrong," and he was pretty damn sure she hadn’t been lying about that either, "So that she can apologize properly to you," which was the first damn step to getting her to stop doing it again later, her realizing and understanding what she’d done wrong, and _listening to Ford_ when he told her stuff, "And you snapping at her every two seconds doesn’t help!" Did his brother really not get that? "It just makes her upset and angry all over again -- _and less likely to want to apologize the next time_ ," Stan overrode his brother, as Ford started to interrupt and protest, "If all that’s gonna happen is that she’s just gonna get her head bitten off for it all over again. --Which is the exact _wrong_ way we want to go with these two, and you know it." Hell, Ford. He _had_ to know better than this. "If she learns that with _you_ , you think she’s even gonna _try_ to apologize to the kids, for hurting you, or whatever-else?" Stan said next.

Ford grimaced and looked away from him, crossing his arms. "Stan," he said slowly. "She doesn’t _mean_ any of it when she says she’s sorry. She’s a _demon_. She’s just trying to trick me into--" telling her something that she could stab a verbal knife into _even harder_ \-- Ford shook his head.

"For the love of--" Stan grumbled out. "Not every little thing outta her mouth is something meant to mess with you!" Hell, from what Stan had seen just then, that had been a sincere -- if completely screwed up and wrong -- attempt at an apology she’d been trying to make there. ...Not that the kid had been helping. "I get why you might not want to talk with her," Stan said, "And nobody’s forcing you to, but--"

"--having them take meals with the family means I _can’t_ ignore them, I am _not_ leaving them alone with the niblings -- yes, I know that you’re there, but you can’t be watching them every minute!" Ford insisted, feeling more than a little trapped.

Stan stared at his brother, arms crossed, and _didn’t_ point out that the demons were both alone upstairs with the niblings right now, without Stan nearby. (His brother clearly needed more sleep, and he wasn’t about to get into a fight about that with him now; he sure as hell didn’t want to have to try and chase his brother up the stairs when he realized…)

So instead, Stan said, "Ford, snapping at her every time she tries to talk to you ain’t really helping with gettin’ her to _not_ get mad at you, and if you’d pulled half the shit you’ve said to her to _me_ \--"

"You aren’t her!" Ford responded immediately.

"-- _I_ woulda hauled off and punched you by now, and I’m pretty sure the only reason the kid hasn’t punched you in the throat _too_ , is because you’re ‘his Zodiac’," Stan said next, and Ford visibly flinched and went a little pale. Yeah, Ford. Didn’t think of that, now, did you? Stan didn’t know why he was insisting on acting like such an idiot. He _knew_ his brother had to know better. ...Heck, the fact that Miz hadn’t up and punched Ford _herself_ was already way more self restraint than Stan had thought she was capable of, especially with how bad her temper seemed to be sometimes.

"She doesn’t _care_ about _other people!_ " Ford said, starting out a little shaky, and getting less so as he went. "She’s a _**demon**_!" Ford insisted. "What do you not _understand_ about this?!" Ford insisted. At that, Stan’s face went blank.

"...And this here is why she’s always snapping at you." Stan ground out. "This. Right here. You don’t treat her like a person." Just like with the kid.

"Because she’s _not_ a--" Ford grimaced. " _She’s a **demon!**_ " Ford could _not_ understand why his brother couldn’t grasp this very simple concept. "We’ve talked about this before!"

"...Ford," Stan said slowly. "You remember what you told me about the kid maybe being a person?" And if the two of them were supposed to be the same...

And at that, his brother’s shoulders slumped slightly and he looked away from him again.

"Ford, I know you’re better than this," Stan said slowly. "You--"

"I can’t," Ford said, still not looking at him. "I just-- You _don’t know_ , Stan." he told his brother, finally looking over at him, and...

"Yeah, Ford. _I don’t know_ ," because he wouldn’t tell him. "But if you’re not gonna stay away from them, then you’ve got two choices here, far as I see it," Stan told him. "You either _stop talking to them_ , or you _keep on at it_. But don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’ here, pushing them like this," because Stan wasn’t stupid. "Kid ain’t stupid, either. He ain’t gonna break the agreement over you getting a little mouthy; he’ll just find a way to get ‘creative’ at you later if you piss off his sister badly enough, and she starts learning to keep her mouth shut and let _him_ deal with it _for_ her, instead."

"That isn’t--" Ford began.

"-- _I ain’t done_ ," Stan said, and he was glowering at him now. Ford tensed, then slowly closed his mouth again. "I _know_ you know better than this, because you ain’t trying to shoot either of them, either -- and I know they’ve both pushed you a _hell_ of a lot farther than that." And at that, Ford looked over at him warily. _Yeah_ , he’d noticed. He’d noticed how hard it had been for his brother, too. "You’re keepin’ your hands off the kid, like I need you to. You’re keeping your hands off of his sister, because you ain’t stupid, and she’s got a hell of a lot less _control_ than he does." Stan sat back in his chair a little, thinking about how exactly he wanted to put this, then thought ‘screw it’. "--This is exactly what the kid warned me about, you know. You, going off and trying to break the agreement on purpose, from the inside or out, once you knew about it. Trying to ‘game’ the system I’m tryin’ to set up. --You really want to throw the kid for a loop? _Stop doin’ what he’s expecting you to do, Ford._ "

Ford not quite flinched at that. He looked incredibly tense.

"...I’m _not_ going to hold my tongue and stop telling them to stop when they do something wrong," Ford told him quietly. "I’m _not_ giving up, or giving in--"

"--I ain’t asking you to, Ford," Stan said, straightening in place a bit, as he finally started to get a sense of what this was really about. "All I’m telling you is, you keep going at either of them that _hard_ \-- especially her? -- and you’re gonna get your head set on fire. Maybe literally. --You don’t have to stop, just... hell, I don’t know," Stan said. "Come at it another way. Or at least keep it level. --You get riled up, they’ll just increase the level right back. Don’t sound off at them any harder than you can stand them tossing shit back at you," Stan told him. "Mirrors, remember?"

"I’ll keep that in mind," Ford said rather neutrally, and Stan sighed as he watched his brother get up from the table.

Stan shook his head as he did the same. Fine. So Ford was gonna be stubborn on this and dig in his heels, or whatever. As usual. ...Stan just didn’t _get_ it. --Yeah, going after the kid, he could get. But the _other_ ‘Bill Cipher’?

Stan frowned. He was gonna have to think about it a little more. Because this wasn’t just a ‘they’re demons’ thing for Ford anymore -- if it ever had been. And the _kinds_ of stuff Ford had protested… you didn’t tell ‘a demon’ that, right? He was pretty sure that the triangle demon would’ve laughed that shit off (and maybe even doubled-down on him that much harder, however he could in his own twisted-up way), if Ford had pulled that shit before...

...so what, exactly, was Ford expecting out of this, if not that?

And then it sort of hit him. Ford _knew_ that the kid wasn’t the kind of demon that he thought he was, before. Ford knew there was a difference between ‘demons from the outside’ and ‘demons’ now. And ‘demons’ were…

Oh. Oh, _hell_. Ford wasn’t trying to-- Damn it. Damn.

Stan slumped in place a little as Ford left the room, and he didn’t try calling out to him. He had a hell of a lot more to think about now, and... it wasn’t something Stan had been expecting. Thinking over things… Ford hadn’t rejected the idea of the kid maybe being some kind of person out of hand like he did with a lot of _other_ stuff with the kid. And the stuff that hadn’t been making any damn sense before, most of it had been...

Stan let out a tired sigh, as a couple more things occurred to him finally. And he suddenly felt tired and even older.

...Because Ford hadn’t been the only one who hadn’t been getting it, here. It had been him too.

\-----

Mabel pulled Miz up to the room she and Dipper shared. She was biting her lip and couldn't keep her smile up. She felt Miz squeeze her hand gently.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset everyone." Miz said softly. All she’d wanted to do was finally apologize for that first night, and that time in the forest, though she still wasn’t sure how to apologize for making Ford break himself.

"You and Bill do that a lot," Dipper noted, opening the door and going inside. Miz started to move forward, too, but stopped when she felt Bill’s hand on her shoulder. (She looked up, confused, but he shook his head at her ‘no’.)

Mabel grimaced slightly, standing at the doorway with Miz. "It was _really_ upsetting, but I don't think this was completely your fault _this_ time," Mabel told her truthfully. Miz probably couldn’t have given a worse apology if she’d been a mean girl _trying_ to hurt Grunkle Ford on purpose, but… she was just _really_ bad at apologies. Really-really bad. --So they’d just have to help her out!

Mabel held Miz's hand, noticing the way the demon was trembling.

"...Are you okay?" Mabel asked carefully. She wondered if Miz was remembering something bad. _She_ still got shaky sometimes, when she thought about Mabeland, and Miz… that hadn’t been some made-up sob story. Mabel knew genuine, and _that_ was…

Mabel pulled in a breath. _That_ was the really upsetting part. The whole being abused as a human part. Insulting their Grunkle Ford all over again had been awful, but _that_ had been… and thinking that Grunkle Ford would _want_ to hit her? --Well, out of the blue when Miz wasn’t trying to kill anybody? Grunkle Ford wouldn’t do that unless somebody needed protecting! And he sure wouldn’t feel _good_ about it!

And what was worse was that Miz didn’t even seem to think that getting hit for doing stuff wrong was-- was _abuse!_ To her, it was just how things were, like-- some terrible kind of ‘normal’. And Mabel hated to admit it, but she’d been super-relieved when Miz had seemed offended earlier, when Dipper had asked if Bill had ever hit her. (Which she knew was weird, okay? Bill had tried to kill them! They’d gotten in all sorts of fights! But the idea of him wanting to hurt somebody he treated like a little sister? That had been a whole ‘nother level of...)

Mabel pulled in a breath. --At least being hit wasn't something Miz thought siblings did, and she thought hitting her and Dipper was bad, too. So other kids hitting each other was out, and especially not siblings. That made Mabel wonder who it was that _had_ hurt her, though. Especially since Miz thought that getting hit herself was okay.

Mabel’s mind raced as she thought about it, as she gently squeezed and then let go of Miz’s hand (only after Miz told her quietly "I’m fine.", which was the first straight-up lie that Mabel thought Miz had told her since that first night with her glasses prank). Mabel dashed into her and Dipper's room, to race around physically and grab up all the paper she could find, too, as Dipper moved more slowly around her, and her mind raced along with her. --Who had hit Miz often enough that she thought it was normal? Because it wasn’t her siblings, since she seemed horrified at the idea. And even if her siblings _had_ hit her, Miz’s parents should have put a stop to it right away! Because-- because...

Mabel almost stumbled as the realization struck her. ~~...Which she really already knew, but also really hadn’t wanted to think of before, because...~~

Why would Miz’s parents not tell her that someone hitting her as a punishment wasn’t normal and not okay? Well, _that_ only made sense if...

...if the ones who’d hit Miz as a punishment had been her parents.

Mabel stopped in place and breathed deeply.

And if Miz’s parents had told her that, then of course Miz would believe that it was normal to be punished in that way. ...At least for her. But it wasn't. It wasn't right. Mabel breathed in and out again, trying not to cry.

"Mabel?" she heard Miz ask softly, worried. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would upset you." Miz frowned. "I don't… really think before I speak. I keep forgetting to do that."

"It's not--" Mabel paused, then bit her lip. "It’s okay for you not to be fine, sometimes. I’m not fine sometimes, too. And that’s okay, too. --But we can do something fun to feel better!" Mabel told her brightly, wiping at her eyes a little bit with the sleeve of her sweater, before turning back to face her with a smile. "So, um, can we maybe change the subject?" the brown-haired girl asked her, managing a smile as she did so. "I wanna see how these narwhals are supposed to work," she told Miz brightly but firmly, as she brought the paper over to the doorway, and sat down right at the threshold, slapping the paper down on the floor just inside the hallway with a ‘thwap!’

Miz frowned but nodded. She looked back up at Bill before glancing back over to Mabel. "Can we come in?" Miz asked. Mabel bit her lip, then glanced back at Dipper. (...Nope, her brother _really_ did _not_ want them in there with them, she could tell from the slope of his hunched shoulders from where he was sitting on his bed, head in his journal).

Mabel turned back to Miz and shook her head. "Sorry, not right now." Miz seemed to accept this and sat down outside the door without complaint. Bill turned in place and sat down quietly where he was standing in the hallway as well, just behind and to the side of Miz -- then scooted back slightly, leaning his back against the doorjamb almost (really, against the hallway corridor side of their bedroom wall). Mabel glanced back at her brother again (out of sight of both demons, with the door only half-open and in the way) before looking over at Bill too. ...Bill probably didn't know about Miz’s human parents. In fact, Mabel was _sure_ he didn't know. (He’d gone off on parents before in her hearing, when they’d been off at the spaceship. She’d had to tell him to stop. And with the way he’d talked about it then, Mabel was sure that if he’d actually known what Miz hadn’t quite been saying straight-out, that he would’ve started right up again about--)

Mabel wasn't sure if she should tell him or not, though -- and not just because she didn’t want to hear him ranting about how parents were, well… _not_ really parents, according to _him_ , at least. (And sure, Grunkle Stan had warned them about ‘vocabulary’, but _that_ had been...)

Mabel decided that she probably shouldn’t be the one to tell him. He seemed really protective of Miz. And he already hated parents. Learning that Miz used to be hit by her parents would make him even worse about all of it. So Mabel set that thought aside and pulled some construction paper out of her very tall stack of assorted craft paper.

Miz frowned. "Construction paper is terrible for folding," she pointed out. "Printer paper works best for beginners. And in general for folding stuff."

"Aw~ really? But these are prettier~" Mabel pouted. "And a lot stronger, too!"

Miz giggled (not back to her usual level of energy or cheer, but it was _something_ ). "Here…" The dragon-demon picked up one of the pieces of pink construction paper and narrowed her eyes at it. Under her hand, the paper _changed_ and shifted in texture before Miz grinned and held it up. "Now it's like printer paper, but pink! And extra durable." Mabel’s eyes lit up as she took it from her.

"Why does it need to be printer paper?" Dipper asked, looking up from his journal. He could see Mabel’s back from where he was sitting, but couldn’t really see the two demons. (He wanted about as much alone-time from them as he could get right now, without leaving his sister stuck alone with them.)

Miz shrugged. "It doesn't _need_ to be printer paper, it just can't be construction paper. See--" Miz picked up one of the sheets of construction paper and held it above both Mabel’s and her own head, so he could see it from where he was sitting "--this type of paper is made of large fibers, uneven and flakey with a softness that makes it difficult to make crisp folds and it doesn't hold a fold as well as paper with a finer, stiffer fiber texture." She lowered the sheet to the floor, then folded the pink printer paper expertly, and then folded a green construction paper the same way, to raise both into the air and show Dipper a direct comparison between the two types. "See the difference?"

Dipper squinted slightly, looking between them, and then nodded slowly. It was a little hard to see from across the room, but even from that far away, he could still see a bit of a difference in how the creased edges looked; the construction paper one seemed almost fuzzy. But… "You care about the paper texture that much?" he asked her.

Miz nodded. "The material affects how the origami ends up. Certain designs won't work with certain types of paper." Miz materialized two origami octopus (using her weirdness powers within the small free space under the barrier granted by her magic-cancelling cuffs once again); one was made from a softer origami paper, and the other from printer paper that had been hand-painted. The difference was even clearer to see this time. The printer paper held the curl of the fold much better than the softer textured paper.

****

Mabel nodded along, almost rapt as she stared at them from only a few scant inches away. "Like how you can't use certain types of yarn for some projects!" Mabel realized. She knew how important materials were.

"Exactly!" Miz looked back down at the paper and carefully folded the pink paper back and forth along the crease before ripping it along the seam to make a smaller strip of paper. She then folded one of the corners down and folded over, creasing back and forth before ripping that too, making a square of paper. "Here's your piece." She handed it to Mabel before ripping out a square for herself as well.

The two girls bent over their paper as Miz walked Mabel through the steps. "And here, you fold these sides down, make it thinner, it's gonna be the tooth so it needs to be thin. Since we're using a larger paper size, we'll need to do this multiple times to make it thin enough." Mabel had her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth a little bit in concentration as she carefully made her folds, doing her very best work as she went…

...And when she was done, Miz praised her for her creases. "Most first time folders don't match up the sides properly and it ends up lopsided. Your folds are perfect." Miz told her.

Mabel blushed. "Well~ I have lots of artistic experience~" Mabel not quite bragged out to her.

Miz giggled. "Art experience has nothing to do with proper folding technique. I tried to teach both my sisters back when I was human, and my friends, one of whom went to art school along with me. They couldn't do this evenly and didn't have the patience to learn. I also taught a few classes and even when I told them 'fold it in half and make sure the sides match up’? They _still_ couldn't do it." She looked a little nostalgic and also exasperated. "I mean, making the sides match up evenly shouldn't be hard; you're just using the paper itself as a guide. But so many people I have taught were simply unable to do that." Except Will… he was the only one who ever practiced with her long enough to really learn...

Miz grinned at Mabel. "But you can. And that speaks volumes about both your observation skill, manual dexterity and patience." Mabel blushed harder but laughed and tried to wave off the praise, unused to being complimented for her technical skills instead of her finished artwork. (It was weird, though. Because for her science lessons with Bill, the triangle demon had done something like that, too.)

Mabel got her head back in the game soon enough, though. --She wasn’t gonna get praised for all the middle stuff, only to mess up at the end! She turned back to the paper, watching as Miz explained the final steps: "Fold the whole thing in half, reverse-fold up this end to make the tail, then you pinch the head shut so it doesn't unravel as you twist the tooth so it becomes a spiral."

Mabel twisted the paper and grinned. "Woo! What now?" she asked. The dragon pointed towards Mabel's basket of art supplies, over by her bed. "Now we add the googly eyes and we're done," because everything was better with googly eyes!

Mabel grinned and got up quickly to scramble off to her desk for some glue, and came back with several different types, along with the basket.

As the girls glued on the eyes, Dipper asked as he took down a few more notes in his journal (because it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been listening, he had been), "You used to teach classes on this stuff?"

Miz nodded. "My high school internship was being an assistant art teacher at an elementary school. It was fun. Taught 1st through 3rd grade kids some simple designs." She frowned. "But I messed up. I lost my temper at a few of them. I still feel really bad about that." She seemed to wilt in place. "That's when I realized I shouldn't be allowed to be a teacher," even if she’d wanted to.

Mabel and Dipper's eyes widened, and Mabel pulled in a breath as they glanced at each other.

"...Did you hit them?" Dipper asked next, and Miz shook her head quickly, looking horrified.

"What?! No! I would never do that!" Miz objected, then sighed. "They were all asking me to fold something for them. I was working as fast as I could but the second I finished one, another kid wanted something else and they kept asking me, each one wanting to have their animal first and they were all asking, demanding, all at once as they crowded around me and…" Miz dropped back, sprawling across the hallway floor to stare up at the ceiling. "...and then I snapped. I tore up the paper and told them that _no one_ gets one," she groaned out. "A few of them cried. I felt so bad." She rolled over in place and curled up a bit into a ball. "I'm an awful person."

Mabel winced. "It sounds like you got... overwhelmed?" she tried, not sure what to say to this. It was good that she hadn’t hurt anyone, but yelling at little kids was a pretty big no-no, especially for an elementary school teacher -- and especially when it wasn’t recess and nobody was throwing food in a food fight or refusing to come on back inside when they needed to.

Miz groaned. "I've always had a bad temper. Becoming a demon didn't make it any better. In fact I'm quite certain I'm worse."

Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other. "Well, you do seem to upset Grunkle Ford a lot," Mabel noted, rubbing her sweater-covered arm, because now was as good a time as any, right? "Maybe you shouldn't talk to him? All you two seem to do is make each other mad." Even more than Bill and Grunkle Ford did lately -- which was _really_ saying something.

Bill let out a snort at the understatement there. He didn’t bother commenting that that Stanford started it; he didn’t feel he needed to.

Miz, for her part, sighed. "He… that man--!" Miz seemed to want to say something but closed her mouth and made a frustrated sound instead. "I don't… understand."

"He's _inconsistent_ ," Bill repeated, crossing his arms over his knees where he was sitting, before laying down his head sideways on it. He looked almost amused, but mostly disgusted.

"What does that even mean?" Dipper asked, getting up from his bed and walking over, to stare out the doorway at him. "You keep calling him that?" It was something Dipper had been wondering about for a while.

"It means he's _inconsistent_ ," Bill repeated. "He _says_ one thing, and _acts_ a different way, and _thinks_ a third." Bill rolled his eyes. "...and probably _feels_ a fourth." But Bill had zero time or inclination to care for or about 'feelings’. As far as he was concerned, _that_ one could be largely and most easily fixed by bouncing someone's mentality into another body that _didn't_ have the same issues. Simple!

Miz suddenly burst out laughing and snorted out, "Ogres have layers!" before rolling onto her other side, looking a bit less like a pillbug this time.

Everyone else stared at her.

"...Layers?" Bill said, looking confused. "That Stanford doesn't have _layers_ ," he scolded Miz with a frown. "That would imply that he has _depth_ ," he added with no small disgust at that Stanford's repeated and ongoing attempts to flatten himself out unnecessarily, down from the two dimensions he was currently stuck at down EVEN FURTHER to one...

Miz was trying very hard to speak through her laughter. "B-but onions… have-- LAYERS!" she cackled wildly, rolling back and forth across the hallway flooring (using her powers near-automatically to clean it of all dust and dirt as she went). Mabel and Dipper just seemed confused.

Bill cocked his head at her. "So, your hypothesis is that that Stanford is an onion with only one layer," he restated. He lifted his head and looked away from her, and after a moment's thought, he nodded once and said: "Fair." Because that was a fair assessment.

Miz slapped at the ground, gasping for air. "... Confused-- onion!" She coughed, face red from her body spasms.

"Confused English _-accented_ biscuit," Bill said, with a small smile. (Cookies that thought they were special in some way. Twice the calories and half the shame!)

"Overcooked! Left out in the sun too long-- so long he doesn't even realize he's gone rancid!" Miz breathed deeply, slowly calming down.

"He _does_ have a tendency to not know when to come in out of the elements. Ever," Bill said mildly, but he was starting to grin. He waited a long moment, until Miz had almost recovered, then added, "And then fall into mud." Miz started laughing all over again. "While thinking it's butter." That sent her into paroxysms and letting out a small wheeze of "Body spasms!!!" 

Dipper twitched. "I'm pretty sure you two are insulting Great-Uncle Ford…" he said, glaring down at them both from a step inside the doorway.

Bill looked over and up at Pine Tree and grinned. "Fair assessments and proper descriptors are insults?" Bill 'asked’ him, with an 'innocence’ that made it clear that, while he did think that what he'd said was what he was doing, he also knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

Dipper gave Bill a flat look. "I don't know what's so funny, but I want you to _stop_ it. You know you're being a jerk on purpose." Bill made a face, but it was a 'stop’, so he stopped. (Not that he technically hadn't already stopped; he had. He just wouldn't start it up again. ...right that minute.)

Miz gasped for air, wiping at tears. "S-sorry. It just popped into my head…" She laid down flat on her back on the ground again, catching her breath. "Wow. I haven't laughed that hard in a while." She shifted sideways in the hallway a bit, then rolled onto her side, to face them. "Sorry, it was kinda mean to compare him to that, but it… would explain a lot about him."

Mabel groaned out, "I don't get it."

"Probably better that we don't," Dipper muttered.

Miz groaned and got up enough to crawl back over to the paper. "I still don't like him. He's mean," she noted, though her tone didn't sound angry, more, disappointed. "Sucks when the hot ones are jerks."

"Grunkle Ford isn’t a jerk," Mabel protested, but that only got her a frown from Miz.

"...I've generally found that when I stop trying to set people on fire, they're generally less hot, even if they aren't less-jerks," Bill told Miz more seriously, almost blandly, giving her a sideways look. "You could try stopping your tries to set him on fire? As an experiment?" Bill added. "Or start wearing your glasses again."

Miz rolled her eyes. "I'm not _trying_ to set him on fire. He just keeps adding fuel!"

"Mental attacks have an equivalent in the physical," Bill reminded her. "And you have a fiery temper." He stopped there, not thinking he needed to explain further.

Miz blinked. "Oh. I hadn't remembered that…" She frowned in thought.

Dipper and Mabel stared at her. Bill smiled. Miz sighed. "But even the stuff he says to Stan upsets me." She frowned. "It can't be good to let him do that, right?"

"Why does it upset you so much?" Bill asked her before either Dipper or Mabel could, to both their surprise. "He isn't your Zodiac. And neither is Stanley." It was clear that Bill was honestly confused on this point. He didn’t particularly _like_ it when his six-fingered hand tried to pick a verbal fight with his sister, but really, that Stanford was so _bad_ at it that…

Miz frowned. "Mean words are mean. Even if they don't hurt Stan, I don't like hearing them. It's not nice. It's not…" She groaned and covered her face. "He keeps doing it. Thinking it's fine just because Stan’s got thick skin!" (Dipper and Mabel both winced at this. They hadn’t exactly been liking any of the recent fights their Grunkles had gotten into with each other, themselves.)

"So, you don't like the _sound_ of them?" Bill tried next. "His words don't match his thoughts. Words aren't mean. Words are complex waveforms of pressure travelling through the air."

"Sticks and stones may break some bones but words will leave long lasting psychological damage that lasts a lifetime…" Miz grumbled.

"But Stanley isn’t having any of that left on him," Bill pointed out. "If your objection is the impact, there isn't any." Bill frowned. "Are you objecting to… that Stanford _accidentally_ sounding ‘mean’ to you?" Bill tried next. "He doesn't communicate well. Very few of my Zodiac do," Bill told her.

Miz looked tired, worried and a little sad. "I don't know how I feel. I'm not happy about it. Maybe I should ask Stan?" ("Oh boy," Dipper muttered, not very loudly, but loudly enough for Mabel to hear thim.)

Bill frowned. "Yes?" he said. "You know that you don't like hearing Stanford talk. ...to Stanley only? The thing you don't like is restricted to their conversations," Bill said, mentally backing and extracting up to something more general in trying to help her narrow it down, since she didn't seem capable of identifying it on her own, to his own line of thinking.

"That Stanford says mean things to me too. Even when I'm _not_ trying to hurt him. I guess, it's like, if he gets to say stuff to Stan, he thinks he can say it to others too? And I don't like that?" though Miz sounded unsure of this too, being unable to articulate her feelings on this matter.

"That doesn’t sound right…" Mabel said, but she sent a confused glance at Dipper, who was frowning. (... _Was_ the demons being around making their Grunkle’s and Great-Uncle’s fighting worse? Or vice-versa? Dipper wasn’t sure, but… the two demons sure weren’t _helping_ things any.)

Bill thought on this. "Too soon to draw conclusions, but remember that as a hypothesis, perhaps." Bill was frowning slightly, eyes narrowed, deep into mathematical thought processes at the moment. (He had a slightly different cadence and accent to his tone as he talked now.) "Pattern: Stanford talking to you and Stanley." He thought for a moment. "Myself also? Or no?"

Miz narrowed her eyes. "He says mean stuff to you, too."

"Bill usually says the mean stuff first," Mabel pointed out, which Bill simply shrugged _and_ waved off at the same time.

"Do you not-like-hearing the 'mean stuff said’ by that Stanford, when you hear it said to each of the three of us, in the same not-like-hearing way? For Stanley, you, and myself?" Bill asked her, still thinking, before looking up at her.

Miz nodded. She turned to the twins. "Like, how they didn't like hearing us laugh at Ford, even though he's not here to be hurt by it?" she pointed out. She could at _least_ understand that one, once she thought about it.

"They thought we were thinking mean things on purpose and sharing them to laugh at his stupidity, and we were," Bill drawled out with a smile. (Which got an annoyed "Hey!!" from Dipper, and a frown from Mabel.)

Miz shrugged. "I actually thought it was funny, not mean. But they still didn't like it."

"You were laughing while I was being mean, liking the mean things I was saying. That implies meanness in your behavior to humans." Bill shrugged. (The twins glanced between them. Because was Bill actually…?)

Miz nodded. "Which I apologized for afterward." She winced.

"And if I did it again, you'd laugh at it again," Bill pointed out with a grin. "I _believe_ that is what these Pines call an 'insincere apology’."

Miz sat up straight in understanding. "Oooh! Wow. I'm such an asshole." she gasped in realization. Well, she already knew this fact, but to have Bill point it out in such a simple way was...

"Uh, _yeah_ ," Mabel said, not so pleased at hearing that Miz was gonna continue to laugh meanly at one of her two favorite grunkles, when Bill said nasty stuff about them.

Bill let out a laugh. "HA! -- _Embrace_ it!"

"--No," Dipper said quickly. " _Don't_ embrace it. Do the opposite thing of embracing it!" He was looking between the two of them worriedly.

"I want to do the opposite thing. But I don't know how?" (Bill let out a huff of breath at that.) Miz frowned. "I don't realize it half the time until someone starts crying. And then I feel bad later."

"Think about how you would feel if Grunkle Ford were saying it to you, or doing it to you, first?" Mabel tried hopefully, glancing over at Dipper, who was pulling down on his cap again. (At least she felt bad about it later?)

Mabel frowned. To Mabel, it was simple. If Miz didn't like things like that happening to her, then she shouldn't do them to other people! It was the Golden Rule.

"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," was Dipper's contribution to the conversation, after letting go of his cap.

But to this, Miz just shrugged. "I’d think it was funny, to be compared to an onion," she told the two younger twins. "Also, that's a misquote. The actual saying, translated literally is 'Don't do to others what you don't want them to do to you’." Miz pointed out. She was pretty sure it was attributed to Confucious, and even if people seemed to value his sayings, she personally thought Confucious was full of shit about most things. Heck, he thought a husband and wife shouldn’t be allowed to walk down the same street together.

"Wasn't trying to quote anybody," Dipper muttered. Miz tilted her head. "But that's what the so-called golden rule is." She paused and then backtracked. "But I can try harder? But if I start to mess up, just yell ‘stop’ so I know I'm doing something wrong?" She looked down and frowned. "Sometimes I know what I'm doing wrong, but most of the time I just don't understand. I don't think things through before I do them all the time." (Bill let out a singular laugh -- because he'd noticed that! She was still young, though.) She frowned. "No one's really corrected me on my behavior in eons."

The twins glanced at each other. "So, you mean you've been awful a bunch of times and no-one’s ever called you out on it in ages?" Dipper asked carefully. And she knew this and did it anyway? (...Just because she knew she could get away with it? --That _wasn’t_ okay!)

Miz nodded. "I think they're too afraid to discipline me properly..." ("Good," said Bill.) Miz winced. "The only real authority in my life is my dad and Jessie. Dad is very hands off with his parenting and I don't see Jessie very often. Though I guess my friends have sometimes told me when I’m not doing something right?"

Mabel frowned. "So… all your bad habits and behavior got worse over the years because no one ever scolded you for it?" she asked carefully, because did that mean…?

"No one ever dared to try and--" Miz choked and said a word that seemed to be in a foreign language before gagging, and Dipper and Mabel both flinched. (Bill flicked his eyes over to her, then away again.)

’Oh, man,’ thought Dipper, because that settled it. No one had dared to try and hit Miz, and because of _that_ she didn't feel like she had been ‘disciplined’. Dipper sat down next to his sister and glanced over at her.

Mabel bit her lip as she glanced back at her brother and leaned into his shoulder. ...She probably didn’t feel ‘disciplined’ by other people telling her stuff was wrong to do, because Miz's human parents had probably hit her when she did bad, instead of just sitting down and explaining things by talking to her like they should have done it. That was what Mabel thought; and she really didn’t want to ask Miz to clarify that one, because if she did… it was the Bill-going-overboard problem all over again.

"I mean, I’ve had people try to _kill_ me for stuff I’ve done, but that’s not the same," Miz groaned. "Since people try to kill me even when I’m not doing anything bad. Like when I was just going out to a restaurant with my friends--"

"-- _Stop_ ," said Bill, and… wow. _Wow._ Bill was looking a little green around the gills, almost. And his breathing was _definitely_ off. ...Aaaand he’d just reached out and pulled Miz over to him with an ‘eep’ out of her with zero warning, pulling her right up in-between his knees and practically into his lap, arms settling in around her almost like a cage. _Woah._ Dipper stared at this. He heard Bill mumble out something that sounded a little like ‘mine’ at Miz, too.

"Ummmmmmmmm," Miz said a little uncertainly, because her brother almost _never_ instigated hugs or contact or anything himself -- not first. If he’d moved any faster, or pulled or held onto her any tighter… but he hadn’t. He’d been gentle about it, and almost a little slow, but...

"Mine," Bill muttered out at her, down by her ear. "No dying anymore, _EVER_. Not. allowed. -- _Understand?_ " He did _not_ sound all that happy with her or anyone else just then.

"...kay…" Miz said quietly, feeling guilty because part of her knew that she wasn’t going to be able to _not_ die. She got shot at a lot. And exploded sometimes. But she always came back. ~~Even when she didn’t want to.~~

"My sister, mine," Bill said, slowly uncurling from around her a little bit, but not all that much.

"...Um. Bill?" Mabel said slowly. She’d never seen this before, not even when Dipper and Grunkle Ford weren’t around. She’d _never_ seen him look this upset. He was practically hiding his face in Miz’s hair, on the other side of her head away from them both, but it was obvious from the way he was sitting that he was...

"...sorry…" Miz nuzzled against her brother’s cheek softly.

Bill breathed ~~and tried not to think about Liam too hard just then~~ , and breathed ~~and tried not to think about what he wanted to do to all the people who had ever _DARED_ to try and lay a hand on his sister, let alone _KILL_ her~~, and breathed ~~he couldn’t do anything at all about it _YET_ , because he didn’t know how to make Doors on his own yet, so he couldn’t _yet_ \--~~, and breathed some more ~~but he _ABSOLUTELY_ could once he did. And he would. He _would._~~. And he slowly began to seem more outwardly calm. _...Slowly_.

"...Okay," Dipper said slowly. "Well, nobody’s gonna try to kill you here... unless you try to kill people first, not just insult them -- just like Grunkle Stan talked about with the agreement and stuff." Dipper sent a long look Bill’s way. "And we're gonna tell you what is mean to us." Dipper said firmly. "And insulting Great-Uncle Ford _is_ mean."

Miz sighed. "Ok. I will try harder to not do that." She frowned. "I just can't help but snipe back when he snaps at me first. Even when I was just trying to be nice…"

The twins sighed. "Well, you kinda insulted him again when you were trying to apologize." Dipper groaned. Miz looked surprised at that, which only made Dipper feel like he would get a headache if he tried to explain "Look, just, don't talk to him? Or just, be the bigger person and don't snap back…?" though Dipper winced even as he said it. Right. Like she was gonna do that.

Miz sighed. "Fine. I'm just gonna ignore him then." Which meant she'd just never be able to apologize to him. ...Well, if he wasn't going to even TRY to accept her apology then… screw him. She didn't need to try anymore.

Miz frowned. "I'll ask Stan tonight."

Bill lifted his head away from her shoulder a little. "Ask Stanley what?"

"About how I don't like how Ford talks to him. And why he won't stop Ford from doing so." Miz muttered. And at that, Bill let out a sigh. "Little sis. Stanley doesn't care."

"But can I ask to make sure?" Miz fiddled with her fingers. Bill rolled his eyes. "If you want to waste your time," he told her, uncurling away from her a bit further (but not dropping the cage of his arms and legs around her just yet).

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other. "Why do you care so much what Great-Uncle Ford says to Grunkle Stan?" Dipper asked, frowning slightly.

Miz looked somewhat irritated. "Siblings shouldn't talk to each other like that, even if they aren’t upset by it. And he's not even--" Miz closed her mouth, frowning.

Bill had raised a hand closer to her lips warningly at her near slip. He slowly lowered it again when she stopped on her own.

"...Not even _what?_ " Dipper said suspiciously.

Miz sighed and decided to try and handle the question by side-stepping the question, sort of -- answering it in a different and still truthful way, with a very different topic than what she’d been about to say, instead. "He’s not even being sincere with his real feelings. I know Ford loves Stan. Siblings shouldn't say mean things to each other. If Ford was just teasing Stan light-heartedly, that's one thing, but he's not teasing. He’s being deliberately caustic."

Mabel sighed. "But it’s fine. They're just talking. Siblings can argue sometimes!" She had to believe that. ...And she was right, she _had_ to be! The way they’d been hugging down in Grunkle Ford’s room after the DDNMD game had been… they _had_ to have made up completely, from the last fight they’d seen!

Miz still didn’t really like it, but she kept quiet about it for now. She played with the paper in her hands for a bit before sighing. "I’m tired. Getting upset always makes me feel tired." She slowly got to her feet -- Bill let her go immediately, before she even managed to bump up against his arms -- and Miz rubbed her face. "I think I want to go to bed now…"

"Then we’ll go to bed now," Bill said, sliding back to shove his back against the wall, then slowly standing himself.

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other as Miz wandered off down the hallway towards the next flight of stairs, the older dream demon only a step or so behind her.

"She’s not gonna drop it, is she," Dipper asked his sister, already knowing the answer, even before Mabel shook her head. Dipper let out a breath. _Great._ \--Why couldn’t the demons just stop sniping at their Great-Uncle Ford?!

Dipper helped Mabel grab up the rest of the supplies sitting in the doorway and hallway, and then elbowed the door shut behind them. (It was getting pretty close to their bedtime as well.)

\---

Bill wasn’t stupid, either. He could tell that Miz didn’t want to leave things where they stood as well, even as her steps got slower and slower, dragging more and more. And he could tell that Miz wouldn’t be able to settle down until she talked to Stan about at least some of it.

Bill wanted to sleep, but he wanted _her_ to be able to sleep well, too. And some things were just more important.

So Bill sighed and reached out his hand as she came to a stop at the bottom step of the final staircase, and he ruffled her hair just a little. "Little sis, if you really want to talk to Stanley tonight, we should go now before he’s asleep. Waking him up after will _not_ be conducive to getting your questions answered by him tonight."

"...kay…" Miz mumbled.

\---

Stan was preparing for bed when he heard a knock on his door. "Hey Stan?" he heard Miz's voice from behind it. The old man raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah?" he asked, as he finished pulling on his nightshirt. Didn't the kid want Miz to not be alone with him?

"Miz said she wanted to ask you something," Stan heard the kid's voice say next, sounding a bit more muffled. ...Yeah, okay. She wasn't alone then.

"What d'ya wanna ask?" Stan grunted as he got into bed, not wanting to get up and have a long conversation right then. Bill could come in whenever, kid still had his bed in here, but Miz required an invitation. If the kid thought this was important enough to want to open the door for her, then fine… and Bill did open the bedroom door. The kid was leaning with his back against the doorframe, arms crossed. ...Yeah, okay. Kid wasn’t invested in the conversation one bit, but he seemed to think this was important enough not to wait ‘til morning on. Fine.

Stan watched Miz shuffle her feet before she started, "The way that Stanford talks to you--" Stan sighed heavily. Hell, not _this_ thing again.

"Kid, I told you already. _I don't care._ I've got thick skin. Gonna take more than some ‘mean’-sounding words to get to me." Seriously. The hell.

"But you shouldn't let him say things like that to you anyway," Miz insisted.

Stan groaned a little as he sat up in bed. "I _told_ you kid, I don't mind."

Miz made a frustrated sound. "But I mind! I don't… I don't like listening to him talk bad about you!" Stan rubbed a hand across his face. Yeah, she’d already said that the first time. _Why_ were they having this conversation again?

"How is this a problem?" Stan asked her, because there had to be a reason she was bringing this up again, right?

"The fact that he can get away with saying things that are meant to hurt people, even if they don't hurt you, doesn't change the fact that he's saying bad things," Miz said next, and welp, that was completely wrong. "But you don't stop him. You let him do it. And then he starts thinking it's ok for him to keep saying things like that to other people too!" And Stan watched with zero amusement as Miz actually stomped her foot against the floor, right in front of him. "So he says things to hurt brother or ME and no one stops him! So if I say mean things to him, that's bad but he is constantly all but calling me a monster to my FACE and everyone is FINE with that?!"

Okay, yeah. No. Stan leaned forward where he was sitting. "Kid, that ain’t--" he began, about to point out everything wrong with what she’d just said, but Miz overrode him.

"--And I know he's right, at least a little. I KNOW I'm an asshole. But it's not like I'm a _complete_ monster! I don't go around killing people because I think it's fun or… or torturing people because I enjoy their pain. At most I like to mess with people but I'm not hurting them!" Yeah, Stan knew how this was gonna go. Kid got ranty about Ford sometimes, too. So Stan sat back in bed, crossed his arms, and waited her out.

"I don't go around wanting to hurt people just because I think they don't _deserve_ to be happy!" she cried. "But HE does that all the time and somehow that's fine?!"

Stan watched her for awhile, as she looked tired and frustrated and… was even a little sniffly, geez. Dragon-lady was really upset over what Ford had said to her? Really? ...Hell.

Stan sighed.

"What are you wantin’ me to do, Miz?" he asked her tiredly. It was way too late at night for this crap, honestly.

Miz sniffled again. "Why don't you tell him that it's not nice to say bad things about others? He dishes it out constantly but he can't take it if anyone says anything about HIM. If he's gonna do that all the time without any penalties, he's just gonna keep doing it. Am I supposed to just… let him talk shit about me without fighting back?"

Stan sighed. He debated whether or not he should actually explain this to the two of them or not. "You can’t just ignore him?" If she’d just stop tryin’ to talk at Ford, then...

"He's a bully!" Miz complained. "Isn't behavior like that something you should be stopping?" Miz asked. "It's not fair."

Stan gave her a long look and repeated, "What are you wantin’ me to do."

Miz bit her lip. "Just tell Ford to stop talking bad about you.

Stan blinked. "But I don't care."

Miz scowled. "That's not the point! You shouldn't _LET_ him talk bad about you!

Stan rubbed a hand across his face. "Miz," he said, dropping his hand. "I told you. He ain’t tryin’ to hurt me. You _know_ how he was feeling before, when he first said that junk." (Miz pouted.) "Are you really all that upset because you think he’s trying to hurt me?" he said, giving her a long glare, which she wilted under. "Yeah. You aren’t. _So stop lyin’ about it_ ," he told, her, sitting back in bed and resituating himself a little bit. "Now. Are you upset because you think he’s trying to hurt you?"

...Miz looked very angry and hurt, as she nodded at him once.

Stan let out a long sigh and looked away from her for a moment. Hell. He _really_ didn’t want to have to explain this. Especially not in front of the kid; he was tryin’ to get the kid to figure stuff like this out on his own, actually talk to Ford and…

...that wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon. And Miz was being a problem _now_. Hell.

"Okay, Miz. You really want me to explain this to you, right now?" Stan told her. "Because you ain’t gonna like it." He sent a long hard look her way. "Because I’ll be telling you _exactly_ every last thing you’ve been thinkin’ and doing wrong," he ground out at her, "And if you screw this up _again_ after I explain it to you, you’ll be getting a **hell** of a lot of penalties for this shit you keep on pulling, because you _won’t_ have any more excuses for gettin’ it _wrong_ anymore."

Stan crossed his arms at her. "I’ve been _lettin’_ you try and figure out a lot of this yourself, learning it on your own so you’ll learn it _better_ , and _letting_ you make mistakes as you go without any real blowback, up until now," Stan told her. "And so has Ford," he told Miz, to a skeptical look from the dragon-lady. "So either you actually listen to what I already told you about Ford not tryin’ to hurt me, and keep on tryin’ to understand _why_ I’m right about Ford by not talkin’ with Ford and tryin’ to _pay attention_ to him instead..."

Stan gave her a hard look. "And I mean actually _doin’ that_ instead of deciding _I’m_ wrong for no reason, and tryin’ to tell me how I'm all wrong with _no_ argument and _no_ facts to back you up--" Miz opened her mouth to cut him off, but Stan rolled right over her, "-- _because I already told you that you’re wrong about those things **and you know you are wrong about it**_ …" Stan told her, glaring at her outright. There was a long pause as Miz looked combative but didn’t say anything.

"...Or?" Bill prompted him from the side of the doorway. ...Yeah, kid was definitely on his side on this one, here. If Stan hadn’t known that before, that would’ve been the big honking neon glowing sign right there and then for it.

" **Or** ," Stan continued, "She gets hammered with it now," Stan told them both authoritatively, " _Every_ last thing she’s been getting wrong and acting like a _dumb idiot_ about," Stan elaborated harshly, as he kept on glaring at Miz. " _ **Choose.**_ "

Miz was staring at him, wide-eyed and looking shocked. Bill had his head half-cocked towards him, clearly listening in, though his eyes were lazy half-slits as he looked over his shoulder Stan’s way.

"...Might want to wait ‘til morning to ask him more questions first, and then choose," Bill told his little sister. "You got him in bed, all late. He’s tired and angry now. You choose the second one, he _will_ hit you with it," Bill warned her mildly, looking down at her from above, pose relaxed, arms crossed, no grin in sight. "And I _will_ let him do it," Bill added next, just as calmly and smoothly.

Miz glanced between the two of them, looking unsure.

"You wanna talk this out with your brother first?" Stan asked her in his usual gravelly tones, handing her the easy out. (Kid was right, though. He was pissed right now, and he wouldn’t be holding back much if she said she wanted to go with the hammer.)

Miz sighed. "Should I… wait for tomorrow. If that might be better?" She looked unsure.

Stan snorted. "Better for _you_ ," Stan told her. "I’m fine with either." He wasn’t some bleeding saint, and he didn’t care all that much if he hurt her feelings. There was a hell of a lot that Miz had done since she'd been here that had been trying every last nerve. (The kid, too, but the kid was a hell of a lot more careful about things, usually, when he actually realized that he needed to be. The only reason Stan had been trying to be halfway civil with either of them most of the time _at all_ was because the kid **was** actually _trying_ , Miz was actually good for the kid… _most_ of the time, and both of them were immortal stone-cold killers; Stan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t gonna piss off a couple of demons for no good reason and risk them hurting the kids (or worse), whether they meant to hurt them or not while they were going after _him_. ‘Collateral damage’ wasn’t a pretty phrase.)

Miz slumped, looking tired. "Sometimes I think I understand… and then I realize I'm not understanding anything at all…" Well hey, at least that was kind of almost some sort of progress? Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Choose tonight? Or tomorrow," Stan repeated.

Miz bit her lip. "Back when I was human, my friends had to be really blunt with me before I understood stuff. I always thought that maybe I'm just… slow. Maybe blunt would be more effective. Even if it might be… harsher." She took a deep breath, as if trying to brace herself and glanced at him with a nod to go ahead and tell her the harsh truth _now_.

(Stan absently noted that at no point during this conversation, had Miz ever really met either of their eyes -- his or Bill's. She'd kept her gaze around their mouths or noses, if she even bothered to raise her eyes high enough to reach their face. Actually, now that Stan thought about it, Miz never seemed to do much eye contact. Seemed almost uncomfortable with doing so.)

"Gotta hear you say it, Miz," Stan told her. "You really want me to hammer you with this tonight? Right _now?_ "

Miz nodded. "Yeah. I want to hear it. I want to try and understand." She curled her hands around the edge of her shirt, holding herself. "I don't want to run away from this, just because it might upset me."

Well, alright then. Stan glared at her.

"Bill, if you give her permission to enter this bedroom this one time, then so will I," Stan said. "I ain’t talking to the two of you while you’re out in the hallway, there," he told them, "And I don’t want anyone else listening in on this." (For starters, Ford would get entirely the wrong idea, with the way he was gonna have to put this for the demons to actually get it.)

Miz looked up at Bill. Bill slowly turned his head to look down at her.

After a long moment, the kid said, "Are you sure you want to do this right now."

"Yes," said Miz.

After another long moment, the kid said, "...I give my permission for you to enter this room once, right now, just for tonight."

"Same," Stan grunted out. He watched as the two of them crossed the threshold, entering the room. He waited for the kid to close the door behind them.

And then…

"-- **I’m not an idiot** ," Stan ground out at Miz immediately and ruthlessly. "Your _real_ problem is that you don’t like it when Ford says stuff about you that _you don’t like to hear_ , because it’s got some _truth_ to it -- which is _why_ it hurts," Stan told her. " _You_ know it, and _I_ know it. The _only_ reason you keep complaining to _me_ about it, saying you don’t like it when Ford ‘says mean things about me’ is because you think that _maybe_ if you keep at me long enough, you’ll make me start thinking about some of the stuff he’s said enough that I’ll start getting angry about some of it. And then you think that’ll make me _mad_ enough to go off and tell him to stop saying stuff like that, for myself -- and for you, because you think I’ll go overboard and tell him to stop sayin’ this stuff to anybody at all -- since you don’t see me doin’ it for you. --You ain’t bein’ honest about _any_ of this junk _at all_ , **and we both know it** ," Stan ground out at her, glaring.

Stan paused to let that sink in for a minute. "Ford don’t say stuff to me because he’s tryin’ to hurt me, _and you know it_. He says that stuff, because he’s tryin’ to do the _opposite_ ; he thinks I’ll get hurt if he _doesn’t_ tell me. He thinks I’ll do something stupid if he doesn’t warn me, or do something bad that might have the kids hating me before I even know it, or even do something that _he_ doesn’t know if he’ll be able to forgive," Stan told her. "My brother gets angry, and upset, and he actually _tells me to my face what he is thinking_ and doing and _feeling_ , and I am **never** going to tell him to stop doing that. I _want_ him to tell me those things!" Stan told Miz. "Because the day he stops doing that, is the day he stops caring about me anymore."

"But he’s your brother! He should be nice to you," Miz said belligerently.

"Family and friends ain’t just there to ‘be nice to you’, Miz," Stan told her. "They’re there to have your back. --And sometimes that’s ‘telling it like it is’, like you see it, and smacking somebody upside the head, over and over again, until they see sense! Ford’s a nerd, so he does it with words instead of fists, mostly," Stan noted, then added, "But he’s worried sick about me, and he really, honestly thinks that he’s right and I’m wrong, and that I’m gonna, I don’t know, walk myself off of a metaphorical cliff, or something. Or maybe even an actual one," Stan said with a grimace, "Unless he does something about it by _saying_ something to me about it." Stan sighed.

"My brother is also an **adult** ," Stan told her next. "I don’t ‘let’ him do _anything_. He says what he wants. He _does_ what he wants. He makes **his own** decisions on junk. --Which is what he **should** do. _Because he is a grown man who makes his own damn decisions._ I ain’t ‘in charge’ of him. I don’t tell him what to do or not do," Stan told her, "Because I shouldn’t be. I don’t order you around, and I don’t order him neither. And if you _think_ that I am, then you _ain’t_ hearin’ me right. --If you ever hear me telling Ford something and it sounds like I’m tellin’ him what to do? That’s just me bein’ forceful, because I don’t go around sayin’…" Stan grimaced again. "...Y’know, the _p_ -word to people," Stan said with an ugh-ewww-shudder. He shook himself, then got back to the point. "And whether Ford’s callin’ me out on a bunch of stuff lately or not doesn’t make him _any_ more or less likely to call you out on things, too," Stan told Miz next. "We’re two different people. And Ford _isn’t_ a bully. --He’s the _opposite_ of that," he told her, to Miz’s look of complete disbelief.

"But then why does he keep on saying bad things--!!" Miz complained.

"--Demon-lady, Ford ain’t saying ‘bad things’," Stan told her, and this, hell, _this_ was the thing that he’d finally figured out completely now, and damn if it didn’t piss him off that much more on top of everything else. Why hadn’t Ford just _told_ him-- Hell, of course Ford couldn’t admit it, he probably didn’t realize half of what he’d been doing himself. (Not in any way that Ford would want to admit to himself, because he would’ve felt stupid realizing he was _doing_ it. Because the way he thought about ‘demons’ was...)

"Ford _never_ says ‘bad things’," Stan repeated. "And if you -- or me, or hell, even your brother over there," Stan added, nodding to the kid, "-- asked him what he was doin’, he’d say to _any one of us_ that he’s saying ‘necessary things’, instead. Y’know, _for a reason_ ," Stan stressed. "Sure, he might snap at Bill, because they’ve got history," Stan said, because he knew _that_ much, at least. "And a lot of times, the kid will snap right back. No harm; no foul. As long as there ain’t no harm." He sent a long look the kid’s way, before turning back to Miz. "And Ford might get brutally honest and angry with _me_ , because he knows I’m safe to get mad at, _because he’s my brother_ , and he knows _I’ll_ know what he’s _trying_ to say, and why he’s saying it. He trusts me to get that. But with you? --Kid, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick," Stan told her, shaking his head, and he almost felt bad for her for it. ( _Almost_.) Because this was just damn _sad_ , what he’d finally figured out about what was really going on between her and his brother. ~~And, hell, even the kid himself, to some extent. Because his brother, hell, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone _ever_ , now could he?~~

"Ford ain’t tellin’ you stuff just to try and hurt you because he hates you and wants to see you suffer, to walk away and leave you lying there bleeding," Stan told her, which he’d known all along, but that wasn’t the kicker -- not by a long shot. The damn stupid thing of it all was that, "He’s tellin’ you stuff because he’s tryin’ to make you feel **guilt**. Because he thinks that _maybe_ , just maybe, if you feel _guilty_ enough, you might actually try and _change_ a little bit, and _stop doing_ those guilt-making things," Stan told her, because his brother had damn well known the dragon-lady _wasn't_ whatever kind of demon he’d thought she was, even before he’d really realized he was wrong about it. ~~Just like the kid.~~

"Ford don’t go around torturing people for fun; he’s not like that. That kinda thing would make him feel sick; he’d probably _throw up_ first," Stan told her, glaring. "He’s tellin’ you stuff that makes you real damn uncomfortable, and it’s uncomfortable to you _because_ at least some of it hits home with you. --If he was _completely_ off the mark, you’d just write him off as some kinda lunatic, and just be able to ignore him," Stan told her. "But I can tell he ain’t completely off the mark with you -- either because he’s right, he’s close to it, or you’re _afraid_ that he’s right, and all you can think of to do back to him is say ‘mean stuff’ right back, because _you’re_ **angry** at him for it, and you _do_ want him to hurt. --And every time you do that, you’re **proving him right** ," Stan told her.

"No, I’m not--!!" Miz protested.

"Yes, **you are** ," Stan told her. 

"--I’m just defending myself!" Miz ended, looking frustrated and angry.

"Oh, you’re getting _defensive_ , all right," Stan said. "And every time you go sniping right back at him, to hurt him, because _you don’t like what he said_ , you’re proving to him that you are _exactly_ the kind of demon that he’s been tryin’ to warn me about: somebody who doesn’t care about others, who lashes out because they like to hurt other people, and who thinks that everything is a game. Because every time you do that, you _don’t_ care about others, because you aren’t caring that me and the kids don’t want Ford hurt, and you aren’t caring that you’re mentally attacking Ford when you do that, and putting **your brother** in a _really bad_ position, what with the agreement we’ve got going on," Stan told her.

"But--" Miz began.

Stan didn’t want to hear it, whatever _excuses_ she had for thinking what she was doing was somehow okay; he just verbally bulldozed right over her. (...And the kid? The kid didn’t even _try_ to stop him.)

"--You _are_ lashing out because you like to hurt other people," Stan told her, and did she think he hadn’t noticed this one? "Because you _are_ **enjoying** making Ford hurt because, for some stupid reason, you actually think he deserves it. And you _are_ treating this whole thing like it’s some kind of _game_ ," Stan ground out nastily. "Like there’s some kind of scoreboard just sitting off to the side, where each of you are _scoring points_ against each other -- always having to hit back every single time, because you just _have_ to win ‘that round’ or ‘that exchange’ with him. Acting like it’s some kind of _contest_ in who can hurt who the _worst_." Stan firmed his jaw. "When you’re _completely missing the point_ , because what my brother is _actually_ trying to do, is _help_ you to be a _better person_ ," Stan told her.

"He’s not trying to help me!" Miz scoffed, and the kid was just standing there, blinking.

"Yeah, **he is** ," Stan stressed to her. "A better, _decent_ human being. --Just because he’s _crap_ at it, doesn’t mean that’s not what he’s tryin’ to do," Stan told her. "And he’s doin’ it _despite_ the fact that he thinks you’re a demon and that the whole thing is probably ‘absolutely futile’," Stan ground out, sitting back in his bed. "He started out _actually trying_ , here and there, and now he’s down to a token effort. --He’s been getting _real_ frustrated with you lately, Miz, and he’s damn near given up on you by this point," Stan told her, "Because instead of trying to prove him wrong by your _actions_ , you just run around _saying_ a bunch of junk that’s either completely wrong or a lie, or something that you just can’t back up. And you do it all without even thinking about _why_ he’s saying what he’s saying to you in the first place!"

"But he calls me a liar!" Miz protested. "That’s not fair! He doesn’t believe anything that I’m saying! Even when I’m trying to be truthful!"

"And the way to prove him _wrong_ is **not** to _snap back right away at him_ when he says it! --Take a deep breath, and _back the hell off!_ " Stan growled out at her gravelly. "You want to prove him wrong? You really, really do? --You ask him why he’s sayin’ what he’s sayin’ to you," Stan told her. "You ask, until you’re certain you understand _why_ he’s comin’ at you like that. Why he’s sayin’ what he’s sayin’. Whatever he saw or heard you do that set him off. Because believe me," Stan told her, "Ford’s pretty damn sensitive to bad demon-behavior after thirty-three years of getting _‘played’_ by that asshole brother of yours," Stan tossed a thumb Bill’s way. "My brother will be able to tell you **exactly** what you’re doing all demon-y and wrong, and why. --And if what Ford’s sayin’ just boils down to an ‘I don’t trust you’ instead? Because he’s been burned horribly before? _Don’t_ just go shrugging him off," Stan warned her. "Because _that_ one might mean that you’re doin’ the _right_ thing, _almost_ ," Stan told her, "And Ford can’t quite figure out what the _catch_ is. Probably because he’s seen something like that go _real bad_ before. --Means you’re probably bein’ selfish in some way that just ain’t right," Stan explained. "Or setting up somebody else to _have_ to trust or depend on you later, which could go really wrong."

Stan frowned. "--Easiest way to talk Ford down on _that_ one is probably to offer up some other options," Stan told her. "Make it so that _whatever_ he’s worried about? Either has some negative thing for you if things went wrong, that he realizes you actually would care about being a thing -- which, y’know, is kinda a crapshoot at this point, since right now he’s actually worried that you might be pulling one over on _the kid_ at this point," Stan told her with a sigh, rubbing a hand across his face, before dropping it to his lap again. "-- _Or_ ," Stan continued, "You come up with some way that _whatever_ the hell is going on can get fixed or go okay or whatever? Without _you_ doing the whatever, or needing to be part of it at all. So that he don't have to depend on you. So that things might be okay even if you tried to mess around with things to break ‘em. _And you talk it all through with him before doing anything first._ "

"I don’t know how I can do that," Miz said with no small frustration, and yeah, that _was_ kind of the problem.

"I know you don’t," Stan said gruffly, and he was pretty much done with this whole mess at this point. "That’s why you should actually _talk it out with Ford_." Stan glowered at her. " _Without_ trying to hurt him. And actually _apologizing_ and _damn_ well _meaning it_ if you do!" Stan glared at her. "Ford’s got reasons to be wary of you. You broke his brain less than twenty-four hours after jumping into our dimension here again, when nobody asked you to come," Stan told her. "The kid might be thrilled that you’re here, but even _he_ didn’t know you were coming," Stan told her. "I had no time to talk to the kid about any of this. Ford didn’t have any warning of any more demons coming in. I didn’t even have a chance to try and ease him into any of it. --So you were in the middle of being chased by a big scary whatever, and you needed to get away from it; fine -- nobody's sayin’ you shouldn't have hit whatever escape hatch you needed to, when you needed to do it. --But that still don't change any of that other stuff. I still didn't get any warning, and none of us had any time to prepare." Stan let out a hard breath through his nose.

"--And the kids?" Stan continued, glowered at her. "Most of the stuff you’ve said to me, or to Ford, when the kids either weren’t around or couldn’t hear you? Was some really horrible stuff, Miz. -- _I_ can handle it," Stan said. "But Ford’s seen too much of it, to not want to just claw somebody to pieces, just to not have to hear about any more of that kind of horrible stuff anymore. And it ain’t good for the kids to be exposed to that kind of horrible, neither -- from _either_ of you," Stan said, including the kid in that one. "It ain’t right," Stan said. "And _neither_ of you seem to be able to tell the difference. --You want to know why Ford bristles every single time either of you two open your damn mouths? _That’s_ why," Stan informed them curtly. "You’re shoving a bunch of _horrible_ into two thirteen-year-old teenagers’ brains, that no kid should _ever_ have to hear, handle, or try and cope with."

"But… some of that is just stuff that happened to me when I was a human," Miz said. Didn’t that mean it was ‘normal’ to talk about?

" _I know_ ," Stan said. "And it was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened to you. It was bad, and messed up, and wrong," Stan said, as simply as he could, hoping he’d maybe be able to get through to her here. "Do you _really_ want to try and repeat that stuff out to Dipper and Mabel, making _them_ have to go through all that, too? All those horrible things? Any of them? Even a little? By hearing you talk about it?" Stan asked her, because she actually did seem to genuinely care about the kids, even if she couldn’t manage it in more than a younger-kid like way herself. "--Or maybe even _traumatizing_ them with it?"

"...no," Miz said quietly. She didn’t think that would happen, _did_ it work like that? She didn’t know this...

"You need a therapist," Stan told her. "The kids? -- _ **Are not therapists**_ ," he told her firmly. "They can’t handle this shit. And they shouldn’t have to! Ford’s got a bunch of horrible from beyond the portal that _he_ doesn’t talk about, for reasons," Stan told Miz. He knew that, even if he didn’t really know (and only had a really good guess at this point at) what those reasons were. "And I’ve got ten years of horrible that I never tell the kids about, either, and never will," Stan told her. "And hey. My own Pa -- that guy you hate so much? Wish you had permission from me to carve out his eyeballs? -- y’know, he had a bunch of ‘war buddies’ over one night at the house once, for cards," Stan told her. "I was eleven, and I was pretty sure there wasn’t gonna be any card playing," Stan said, "Because there were no cards or chips out at the kitchen table, just whiskey. --And my pa, he shooed me and my brother upstairs," Stan told her. "I didn’t listen; I snuck back downstairs again after Ford fell asleep. I wanted to hear some of those ‘great’ ‘adventurous’ war stories. And I sure did overhear something one of his war buddies was saying. And then something my Pa said next. And something after that." Stan pulled in a breath.

"--I’m not gonna repeat any of it," Stan told her. And he’d tell her not to go trying to look it up, too, if he didn’t know full well that she had probably done that already. "But my mom found me at the bottom of the stairs there; she’d gone to check up on us two. _She_ wasn’t listening in on them; _she_ had better sense, and _I’d_ still thought war and all that bein’ a hero stuff must be _exciting_." Stan sighed. He’d been such a dumb little kid, back then. "But she caught me too late; I had nightmares about all that stuff for a _week_." And Stan shook his head at his younger self. "After that? My Pa never had them over again. Not in the house. They found someplace else to meet; don’t know where. --Yeah, the guy kicked me outta the house and outta the family at seventeen, disowned me, the whole nine yards, did that," Stan told Miz. "Even _he_ thought that that was too much. _Him._ \-- _He_ thought that me listening in on _that_ stuff was _unacceptable_. Just _listenin’ in on_ what they’d had to live through, and barely survived -- if you can call that ‘surviving’," Stan said almost darkly.

Stan let out a breath, and he leaned back a bit in bed. "I may have seen a lot of horrible after that, but none of it was really like that; not really." The war stuff? Had been an almost impersonal kind of madness, do anything you could to survive, fight like an animal, the whole nine. (And some of the things Stan had managed to live through? ...Well, maybe the second part of that was like that, but none of it had ever been impersonal. Almost all of it had been pretty damn deliberate, instead.)

Wasn’t sure if that made it all that better or worse, but… well. Stan was fine. He’d survived. He was a survivor. He’d survived it all, and turned his life around. ...Eventually.

"...he calls me a monster," Miz complained quietly under her breath.

"Miz," Stan said, with a heaping boatload of exasperation, and no small anger, "You broke my brother’s brain, and couldn’t even feel _sorry_ about it; didn’t even try to for days. You say stuff that makes the kid _laugh_ because he thinks it’s ‘hilarious’, and has the kids covering their ears and telling you to stop! You’ve got me feeling angry enough to want to punch you in the face as hard as I did your brother, more times than I wanna count -- _**because you keep hurting my family**_ \-- and the _only_ reason I _don’t_ do it is because I **know** it _won’t_ make anything _better_ , and I’ve got a hell of a lot more self-control than Ford can even guess at," he ground out at Miz (and at Bill, who looked a bit pale upon hearing this -- and yeah, well, maybe the kid _should_ be worried; he hadn’t been doin’ a very good job of keeping his ‘little sister’ _in-line_ ). "You’re _less_ than _one step away_ from _**messing** with them_, instead. You ain’t actually trying to kill them -- or worse -- which is the _only_ reason why I’m not trying to kill YOU right now, right this _second_." Stan glared at her. " _What the hell do you think a monster **is**_."

Miz was staring at him. So was the kid.

Stan let out a breath, trying to pull it all back in. (He had his fists clenched in the bedsheets.)

"...I think that Miz can ask you more tomorrow," the kid said slowly, "If you are not done right now." It wasn’t a statement; it was a question.

"Yeah," said Stan, with a good bit of barely held-in anger. "Probably a good idea."

The kid showed himself and his little sister out. At least Miz looked like she was actually thinking about stuff, which was _something_.

And Bill closed the door behind him.

...It took Stan a couple minutes before he could let go of the bedsheets, and the part of the mattress that he’d gripped. It took him that long to remind himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t try and kill the kid, or his little sister.

\---

Miz was quiet all the way back upstairs and while she was settling in to sleep. Bill was quiet too, thinking over everything he’d learned tonight from Stan, about how close Miz must have come to having him accidentally breaking the mutual nonaggression agreement (... _multiple times?_ ) because he hadn't realized... in order to stop her from doing something (or not-doing something else?), and everything else. Because Stanley wouldn't lie about something like that, and Stanley _had_ been angry.

Bill watched his little sister curl up on some blankets and pillows, hugging Iseblonker to herself. She wasn’t speaking but her eyes were far off, sad and lost in thought. Bill laid down beside her -- not back-to-back like usual, but flat on his back this time -- and slid over to press his side up against her, an arm curling up around her head from above.

Eventually, Miz started [ humming](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mizIaPGNJaE) softly. The tune was a little somber.

Miz had never realized half the things Stan had pointed out. How hadn’t she noticed? Was she really that far gone? And she'd never realized it might hurt the kids -- sure they said "Stop!" but she'd thought it was more of a ‘makes them uncomfortable’ thing, rather than a ‘make them hurt like she had’ thing. She hadn't known that could happen.

"You don't have to be human," Bill told her. He wasn't sure what else to say, after all of what Stanley had said. He knew he didn't really want that Stanford dictating what was considered acceptable or unacceptable for her to do, but that seemed like the bottom-line there for Stanley. (Stanley had effectively handed off judgment on that sort of thing to that Stanford, there -- and Bill did NOT like that, not in the least.) That meant the three options she had left within the current ruleset (as introduced, negotiated with, and mandated by Stanley) were: keep doing the same thing and not care, try and _conform_ , or… stop talking completely around them? Just to be 'safe’?

"I… know… but… wouldn’t they like me better if I was?" Miz finally asked quietly. "And… maybe sometimes I should just not be who I am…" --since apparently she was just an awful, _awful_ person...

"If you were human and doing those things, that Stanford would react the same way," Bill told her. "He'd still ‘know’ you were a demon; he'd classify you that way by how you act and react." Bill knew that much for certain. "If you were only human, and he killed you, he would either think you'd moved on to tormenting others, or were 'just' a monster that needed stopping." That Stanford would waste no sleep over it. He never had.

Bill paused for a moment.

"You should be you," Bill told her, without question. "But…" Bill felt a little uncomfortable as he said, "I've been trying to regulate my own behavioral output somewhat around them…" Bill admitted. "It's tricky, and dangerous -- I will _never_ change, I promised myself that, and I need to CONTINUE to do that, to never-change, but... -- self-regulation of too many things too far, could have me NOT being _ME!_ If I didn't know myself, and know what I want, and what I will and will not do…"

Bill let out a breath. "But I've had hundreds of billions more years than you, to know what is and is not me. You haven't had that, yet. You're only a little over half my age," he noted. "And you've had emotional input stresses up until a few weeks ago that you couldn't control, and weren't recognizing properly, that makes it impossible to tell what was really just you, maybe, for any length of time before that." Bill grimaced. "You haven't DECIDED any of those things for yourself yet. Not really."

Miz considered that before sighing. Well, she was very… ~~unstable~~ mentally unsound. She would have to really work on that.

"So you need time to do that," Bill said to her next. "And that takes time. --It's fine," Bill told her. "You can do that, and we could... not-interact with that Stanford and Pine Tree and Shooting Star very much anymore, to... avoid problems, until Stanley explains mental attacks better? Not talk with them? Stitched-Heart and Red and Melody and Question Mark are fine to talk with, instead," Bill said. He was fairly sure of that. Question Mark and Red might be part of Stanley’s line, but they were older and more capable and could take external stresses and internal concepts that most others could not; what their own circumstances had not already taught them, Stanley had finished the job on years ago, Bill felt. And as for listening to things that made one’s ‘heart ache’, Stitched-Heart was good for _that_ especially; that was practically his job!

Miz nodded. "I like Question Mark, he’s nice…" she admitted quietly.

"He is… 'good-natured’," Bill said. "But he ate a candy monster to death once. Is that 'nice’?" he asked her with a laugh. (Because sure, the Trickster had wanted to be eaten, but still!)

Miz giggled. "Well, being nice is a spectrum. He’s a good person, even if he ate a man alive." Besides, the kids didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Then again, it WAS a candy monster that had been trying to kill them?

"Yes," Bill said. "And 'good people’ can cause the worst nightmares in 'bad people’, because they don't hesitate. They just _go ahead and do_ the thing they think is right to do, if they think they know what that is; no external-reference check before they do it!" It was what made several members of his Zodiac so very dangerous, in fact.

"A paragon can be just as deadly as any villain, if what they believe is Right, is what others believe is Wrong…" Miz mumbled, snuggling closer and closing her eyes.

"And that is what that Stanford tries to think that he is doing, even though he knows that he isn't and doesn't want to admit that; he just pushes that all deep down and BURIES it under as much of all-sorts-of-other-things as he can." Bill stared up at the ceiling. "Because not-trying and not-doing-anything would be like giving up, he thinks," Bill said, repeating almost verbatim something that he'd Seen that Stanford think to himself on multiple occasions. Over and over again. "It's a bit annoying," Bill admitted. "That Stanford never wants to just- _stop_ for awhile." Not _really_. Even Bill could appreciate a good break. (And not just the _bone_ -breaking kind of break, either!)

Miz hummed softly, "I have a lot to think about. On how to be better while still being ‘me’ if I can…" But did she really want to be ‘her’ if the ‘her’ that exists was a terrible person?

"And I need to ask Stanley to give me a list of all the times he's wanted to punch you, and why," Bill said grimly. He hadn't noticed at all; not really. He'd thought he'd been stopping her, or otherwise making things less-worse enough to pass muster, before there had been any real issues, whenever it had looked to him like there might be. _Clearly_ , he had been wrong.

Bill didn’t correct Miz on the 'being better’ versus 'being WORSE’ this time. Because if Stanley felt that strongly about it...

...What were _Stanley's_ definitions of ‘better’ and 'worse’? (And 'monster'?) It hadn't really occurred to Bill to ask him, before. But Stanley explained things, and Stanley _was_ his right-hand man, and part of his Zodiac besides. ...So, maybe he should? Just for the future clarity of their little talks and discussions?

"I’m sorry for causing so much trouble…" Miz slumped over. Always causing trouble, always just being a problem, always being a bad girl… but she didn’t know how to be better if no one told her what she was doing wrong...

"HA," said Bill, unaware of her own internal dialogue. "If YOU weren't causing trouble, Pine Tree and Shooting Star would just be running off and doing that instead. Or dragging you straight into THEIR trouble, to be ‘in trouble’ WITH them," Bill shrugged off. Even _that Stanford_ knew that, he suspected. (Or would, once it occurred to him after someone asked him what he thought about it, ha!) "Stanley isn't telling you to avoid TROUBLE," Bill told his little sister. That would be pretty much impossible, and Stanley didn't ask for impossible things. "He's telling you he wants you to stop ‘hurting’ his family. --Those are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS, that only _sometimes_ intersect."

Miz hummed to show she heard him, drifting off. It’d been a stressful evening and she needed some sleep to help her get her thoughts in order. "I’ll work… on it… ‘night big brother…" She yawned.

"Quiet night and pleasing dreams," Bill told her, closing his own eyes. He waved the lighting in the attic down a little lower with a lazy hand, and began his own process of drifting off to sleep.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  (((((((((Trigger warning for personal recounts of abuse)))))))))
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Mizuuma's AN is a little more personal. If you want to see it, [go to Miz's fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/47662504#chapter_106_endnotes).


	26. Chapter 94: Don't know when

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> There's a reason why the demons like Stan so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 107 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/47899456). It was first posted on Aug 12, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\---

Ford was immediately on edge when he walked into the kitchen for breakfast the next day, sure that there’d be some continuation of the awfulness from the night before. He paused when he saw Miz and Bill in the kitchen and only untensed a little when he saw Stan was there as well. -- _Only_ a little, because Stan looked a little tense himself as well, and Ford didn't know why.

(Stan was still a little tense, because when he'd come downstairs to get himself some breakfast before he got cranky old man on anyone's ass -- knowing he was still in a halfway foul mood from the night before, and needed something to eat before he had to handle any more damn demon idiocy that morning -- and the demons had joined him a little later…)

(...the first words outta the kid's mouth after Stan had asked the kid 'if there was anything else either of them wanted to say to him or ask him first,' continuing off their discussion from the night before, had been Bill informing him that he was going to help Miz not to talk to Ford at all from now on, _or_ try to be human, because he wasn't going to let ' _that Stanford_ ' tell her what she should or shouldn't do, expecting her to follow it.)

(--That had woken Stan up completely. It had left Stan with a chill down his spine and he'd nearly dropped the bowl he'd been pulling out of the cabinet for cereal in shock. --And Stan had set _that_ one straight **real** damn quick, because apparently the kid thought 'having a conversation with' someone and 'understanding' them _fully_ when they did it? In insane-triangle-talk, meant somebody _agreeing_ with the other person afterwards, for whoever 'won' that conversation they were having!)

(Frankly, he wasn't sure how the kid had kept a lid on that one for an entire night -- though the kid _had_ gotten his sister out of the bedroom pretty quickly after that. Because _that_ had been the sort of shit that that younger Sixer had thought he could get Stan to pull for him, and Stan had said he would never do, that had gotten Sixer paralyzed in the throat for even _suggesting_ that he'd ask for it, _from Stan_. And the demon-kid had wanted to kill Sixer for it instead, and only hadn't because of how he knew Miz and Stan would feel about the killing -- he'd been pretty clear about _that_ at the time, within the pages of that transcript of his that he'd handed over when Stan had asked for it. But Stan was the _enforcer_ , not the asker. And the demon-kid had thought that Stan had said--)

(But maybe that was part of it. Stan had been clear as anything at the time, in that other dimension, about _never_ doing that to either of them, _never_ trying to pull that one off, to hell with _anything_ else about it, and so far, he'd always been completely consistent with the kid. And the kid knew that. ...Which was maybe the only reason why he was still alive last night; they'd all been tired and angry and irritable as all get out, but the kid had actually taken that into account for once. Not because he'd noticed the discrepancy -- which was how Stan realized how tired the kid had been at the time -- but because the kid had felt he'd had options still, instead of feeling like he'd had his back up against the wall. He hadn't taken his sister and run, like he'd talked about maybe leaving before, and he hadn't decided that that had been a deal-breaker and a line that impinged on his own that he wouldn't put up with, and just gone off on them all. The kid had not done any of that shit, _because_ he knew he could talk to Stan afterwards, _because_ Stan had always brought up things that he'd dropped for the next morning the next morning, with no delay unless the kid _asked_ for it, or if he did. _Because_ the discussion wasn't really over yet, and because Stan was flexible about stuff -- when the kid thought something was important, Stan didn't just shut him down for no reason, he tried to provide him with other options instead, _better_ ones, ideas for things that they could all put up with and live with…)

(And really, that was the whole of it. The kid hadn't killed him, because the kid had felt like he'd had options left, still. Even if he hadn't been _thinking_ it outright, that he would talk to Stan about it the next morning, it had become such a habit that the kid had _felt_ it anyway. --Which was _why_ Stan wasn't trying to 'hang' the kid with a bunch of too-strict rules in the first place! He _wanted_ it to be damn near automatic that the kid would come to him, and say stuff to him, and look to him as somebody to talk to for working out a 'better' solution, if there was something going on that he didn't like, because 'didn't like' turned into 'cackling destructive demon' _way_ too goddamn fast for him, and they all knew it. Stan didn't need Ford to tell him that one, and the kids sure as hell didn't, either. Hell, he'd gotten that one from the demon getting the jump on them in the pyramid, what he'd done _then_ , and then chasing after the kids in the pyramid, and everything after.)

(...It had still left Stan feeling a little cold, at how close a call that really might've been last night, while he’d reiterated things with the demon-kid and his little sister down there in the kitchen that morning, and set the record straight. Because if the kid had been even a little more tired and less inclined to wait for their upcoming pick-up-the-talk-again in the morning…)

(Miz was still going to try to keep the chatter with Ford minimal -- which Stan was okay with overall, for now, as long as she could actually hold her end up of that even with Ford sniping at her occasionally. They'd see about that, Stan figured, but she wasn't the kid, so Stan wasn't exactly holding his breath on that one. --But hey, at least the _reasons_ behind it now were different, and maybe almost kind of on-point now, instead of just being completely wrong and all kinds of screwed-up.)

Stan let out a breath when he saw his brother, and gave him a long look, but otherwise didn't say much of anything, just gave Ford a soft grunt that could've been charitably called a 'g'dmornin', as he turned back to his newspaper and whatever he was reading in it. Ford noted the _highly_ nutritious can of Pitt Cola and bowl of sugary cereal sitting in front of him, half-eaten, spoon still in the bowl. ...And his brother complained that _he_ was the one with the sweet tooth between the two of them.

Ford watched the demons as he moved into the kitchen. Neither demon so much as glanced at him though; in fact, it looked like Miz was trying to ignore him.

Watching them warily, Ford continued on his trek to obtain breakfast ( _and coffee_ \-- yes Stan, he understood that coffee was not the only breakfast one needed to make it through the day, that one day on the boat had just been a fluke… or, ah, that _other_ day when… actually, how many times _had_ he…? … ... …hm).

He managed to grab himself a coffee mug from the cabinet without incident, fill it with coffee, and set it on the table at his place. He similarly managed to obtain both cereal bowl, spoon, milk, and cereal all four, similarly without incident, even as he needed to move past the demons to get to the fridge (for both the milk inside it and cereal boxes stop it) at one point.

Ford twitched a little when Miz moved away from the stove range to place a plate of omelettes on the table. He glanced down at the food suspiciously, noticing Miz’s frown. But the man-eater didn’t say anything, just went back to the cabinets to grab some more serving plates and utensils to begin setting the table for the kids. She still hadn’t spoken to him, or glanced up at him.

Ford watched her as he ate his cereal and drank his coffee, just as intently as he would were he stuck in the brush with a Gremloblin roaming the woods nearby, and him without a working gun on him to use to scare it off or worse...

And when the kids came down for breakfast, Ford made it a point to warn them, "Don’t touch the omelettes there, Miz made them." Which got another frown out of her, but Ford watched the dragon-demon close her eyes and take a few deep breaths before calming and going back to cleaning and putting the cooking supplies away.

"Okay!" Mabel enthused out brightly, who went for a cereal bowl herself, and some of the most sugary concoctions of the bunch ( _several_ \-- she liked to mix them together, most days). Dipper went for some instant oatmeal instead. (Ford assumed the hot water in the kettle was fine. Bill wouldn't have done anything to that himself; he was nursing a cup of his own tea, and Stan had likely watched him do it, if Stan hadn’t been the one to set it to boil himself.)

Miz quietly mumbled, "I didn’t claim them…" Ford almost rolled his eyes. That was hardly the only issue, there! She could have done quite literally _anything_ to them, or claimed any of the ingredients prior!

He glanced over at Stan, who seemed to be pretending not to hear any of them at the moment, despite clearly having his hearing-aid in. His brother took another sip of his soda, and turned a page of the local newspaper. (Stan held it a little low, as usual, so that he could see them all at the same time as he was reading, if need be.)

Once Miz was sure Bill was eating some roasted vegetables she’d made, she sat down to begin serving herself, taking one of the omelettes from the large serving plate at the center of the table and settling down to eat. "This one is mine. The others aren’t claimed yet," she said quietly.

"That gonna be enough for you, Miz?" Stan asked, folding up the paper and setting it down next to his place at the table. Miz finished chewing her mouthful and swallowed.

"No…" she responded almost hesitantly, before continuing with, "--I was gonna go catch a few animals later…" She seemed to hesitate again, "--Unless that’s not a good idea?"

(...With the way she ate?) "Don't want to go fishing or gaming out the place," Stan noted, glancing down at his cereal and stirring his spoon in the bowl, as he grimaced down at it a bit. "Gnomes are pretty gamey, too," Stan said next (which got him a chiding "Stan!" from his brother that he mostly ignored, heh). Stan sat forward in his chair a little, shoved the plate with the remaining omelettes on it towards her casually, and then grabbed one of the sugary cereal boxes from over in front of Mabel. "There’s a big warehouse store one town over. We can stock up there." He poured himself a bit more of the cereal into his bowl, mixing it into what was already there. "I'll hitch the small trailer up to my car; we can get an electric cooler to put the stuff in. Been meanin’ to get one of those anyway for a while. Maybe two," Stan said reflectively. Not like they ever had enough space to hold his fish when he got serious going out there on the lake. And if he ever wanted to seriously go deer hunting with Manly Dan or the kid sometime, to help keep the grocery budget low? Or keep a big supply of ice pops for the Mystery Shack just a little bit longer?

Miz seemed to think about it before nodding and wiggling in her seat. "Okay…" She ate the other omelettes quietly after claiming them.

Ford frowned a bit at Stan.

"Is that wise?" Ford said. He hadn't expected Stan to be putting out any amount of money towards one of Bill's… guests. (Continuing to do so for Bill? Perhaps. But--)

Ford looked over to Miz, frowning, and noticed how uncomfortable Miz seemed... about the idea of Stan spending money on her? Hm. (Was that the actual source of her discomfort, or no? She'd made that wiggling motion before…)

"It's fine, Ford," Stan told him. "Like I said, been meanin’ to get a couple of those for awhile."

"...And now we're up to 'a couple’?" Ford said, sitting back with a feeling of vague amusement. He'd heard _that_ tone of voice from his brother before. If they weren't careful, Stan might decide that ‘large electric coolers’ were a _smart investment_ opportunity, and…

Ford sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed his fingers across them. Because his brother, sometimes...

Miz’s next words made Ford’s eyebrows raise again. "I… could help?" Miz suggested, sounding unsure.

"'Course you're gonna help," said Stan. "We'll be getting some ice and the meat on the same trip. You'll have to pick out what you'll actually eat," Stan told her. "Figure your big brother'll probably want to tag along, too." Ford watched Stan eye Bill oddly. "For _moral support_."

"Mm," said Bill. (Ford blinked. That was… usually a 'noncommittal yes’ from him these days, wasn't it? Ford glanced over at Dipper, who glanced up from his oatmeal and nodded at him ever so slightly. ...So that _was_ a yes. He hadn't misheard.)

Miz looked a little confused but nodded slowly. "Can I fly above your car? I can go invisible?"

Stan shrugged. "Hey, I ain’t askin’ you to get in the car when you don’t want to." Wasn't like he'd forgotten what she'd told them before about that car crash stuff. "Figure you can either just sit on top, sit in the open trailer in back, fly with your brother above, or fly yourself. Just, y'know, try to stay in sight so I know what’s what with you, yeah?" Miz looked relieved at that. She still looked like she had something on her mind.

"But, should I help with anything else?" she asked again.

"Kid should be able to help me load stuff up into the trailer. Don't worry about it," Stan told her, and to this, Miz wiggled in place again.

"I can help too?..." she trailed off, seeming more confused.

Stan eyed Miz for a moment. "There somethin’ in particular you were thinking of helping with there, Miz?" Ford's brother asked her next -- fishing for _what_ , exactly, Ford did not know.

Miz wiggled again. "I can enchant the cooler to stay cool without needing ice?" she suggested. Before Stan could respond, Miz continued with, "I want to help out but I don’t know what I can really do?" She alternated between fiddling with the hem of her shirt and looking up at Stan briefly before looking back at her lap.

Stan gave her a slight frown, and a thinking look. "Y'know, your big brother there can keep things staying cool with those scratched-in runes of his, without getting as hungry or as tired," Stan put out there. "You remember what you told the kid on the boat, about him helping out with the fish?" Miz nodded. "You don't have to do something big to help out. Havin’ you along to pick out the meat you'll eat, so the kid will know he's gettin’ it right, and to be with the kid, flyin' along or whatever, to be spending time with him there, is enough. That’s two things right there. Yeah?"

Miz seemed to think about that for a little while before relaxing slightly. "Okay. Um…" She fidgeted a little, glancing over at Ford before looking back at Stan, "Can I cook for you guys too? Or should I _just_ cook for brother?"

Dipper and Mabel both got up from the table at that point to head out, and the conversation paused for a moment as Stan not quite grilled them on where they were gonna go, what they were gonna do, and who-with: evidently, hang out with Pacifica Northwest at McGucket mansion. (Stan warned them that they were _gonna_ get penalized for the whole 'time tape' thing still, and to enjoy their last day of freedom for awhile while it lasted, to a pair of twin groans from the niblings.)

Ford watched them head off, and wished that he could join them. If he went over now, though… well, Bill wasn’t quite that stupid. Bill would know that he was likely going over there to talk to Fiddleford about that time tape, among several other things, and...

It was best if he stayed here, at least for today. He didn’t want Bill connecting his own visits to the niblings’ interactions with Fiddleford, and vice-versa. Best to leave some plausible deniability for later, for what that was worth. (Likely not much at all, but Fiddleford _did_ have his own mystical barrier up around the mansion that would block Bill’s Sight...)

So Ford stayed behind at the table, and refocused on the conversation as he got up to place his dishes in the sink, sending Stan a long look as he did so. (Because had Stan told the man-eater to cook for them all?) But Stan shook his head.

"Ford don't got nothin’ he can use to check out the food as much as he'd want to, to make sure it's okay for him, or the kids, or anyone else," Stan explained, picking up his conversation with the dragon-lady again. (Ford frowned. That wasn’t _entirely_ true. He could scan it for poisons; scanning things for ‘ownership’ was what was tricky enough that…) "And the kid don't do meat, you know," Stan said. "Kinda narrows things down."

Ford let out a snort, because was Stan being _serious_ , here?

Miz nodded. "I know. I just like cooking and…" She looked embarrassed again. "I like it when people enjoy my cooking…"

"Might be able to get Melody and Soos to eat it," Stan put out there, annd Ford nearly startled in place. He could hardly believe that Stan would put Soos at risk in such a way-- "Maybe have 'em and Abuelita over for dinner sometime, make up for the last time the two of 'em were over helping cook stuff for us. --They're adults," Stan said before Ford could quite protest. "They can make their own decisions. ...After you get done ‘warning them’ about eating it and junk, or whatever." Stan shrugged off.

Ford let out a breath of annoyance. Well, at least Dipper and Mabel weren’t here for this, thank goodness. "--Bill 'does’ meat. He _feeds_ on other beings!" Ford protested, feeling a bit sick as he said it. (It was one of those things that he _really_ wished he hadn’t known, because the process by which Bill did it was _not_ for the faint of heart. Or mind. Or stomach...)

Stan looked over at him and blinked.

Miz turned away and took a few more deep breaths but didn’t say anything to Ford otherwise. Stan made a note that she _was_ apparently trying. He sent a look Bill’s way.

Bill speared another piece of plant matter with a fork from his bowl, and used his other hand to start half-patting half-petting his little sister on top of her head.

"Kid? --Thanks," Stan noted as the kid started calming down his sister for him, then Stan added, "You wanna explain that one, though?" Stan put out there, looking back at Ford. "Along with the veggies and whatever else?"

"As a being of pure energy, I feed on energy," was what Bill said next. "But with a _body_ ," Bill looked down at himself and the food in front of him and grimaced slightly, "I need to eat physical things, too. Not just energy."

"And meat don't work because…" Stan said next.

"Oh, it'll _'work’_ ," Bill said, twirling the captured cut-and-cooked vegetable around on his fork. "But I don't like eating previously-sentient or -sapient beings I haven't fully _sanitized_ first," Bill told him. "Preferably with fire. --It's a process," Bill told him shortly. "No plants on this planet in this dimension are either of those two things. So I don't have to worry about _accidentally_ ingesting any remnants or echoes of anyone's mental energies or souls, so long as I stick to eating native-plants here." And at that, Bill shoved what was on the end of his fork into his mouth, bit down on it, and chewed.

Miz spoke up quietly, "I make sure there’s no souls in my food."

"So do I," Bill said, after swallowing, and he patted her on the head once more before lowering his hand. "But it's a good chunk of work and some energy-expenditure to do it, and it's _much_ harder to do when I'm all anchored down like _this_ ," Bill made an abrupt gesture of disgust at his body. "And even harder to _fix_ if I get it wrong and need to try and clean or shift things around in my energy form after the fact, if I screw something up. Inside this stupid human-ish body." Bill screwed up his face. "Because of this stupid anchor."

"Okay," said Stan. He sidestepped the anchor-talk and focused instead on the rest (not about to try and force the issue on maybe trying again to get the kid to explain that one when the kid didn't have to, especially since it'd just have the kid getting all belligerent and noncommunicative with him again; the kid really hadn’t _explained_ that one, yet, and Stan didn’t see _that_ changing today). "And fungi are out because why?" Stan said half-skeptically. (Ford shot him a look.)

Miz actually responded this time. "Because they’re decomposers, they feed off other living AND dead things. Both other plants and animals."

"Same with bacteria," Bill pointed out. "And bacteria DON’T filter out and reject Soul- and Mindscape-matter the way that your Earth-based plants do. Your plants _do_ get a LOT of bacteria _ON_ and _IN_ them, though! --Hence the cooking of vegetables until they are charred, and all bacteria is _thoroughly_ dead and unable to hold on to any of those little fragments, to them, anymore," Bill added, spearing another ‘charred’ (thoroughly cooked) vegetable that Miz had prepared for him and showing it off a bit on the end of his fork. "Many fungi are also very close to the type of neural-patterned brain-networking you usually See in sentient species, in their ‘shelf-roots’. Mycelia. And some fungi can set up and multiply in the body much easier than almost any other _familia_ -related non-mobile species on this planet. So I'd rather not eat them, either. --Better safe than sorry!"

Miz actually shuddered. "Damn parasitic mushrooms, so creepy…"

"...Yeah," said Stan. "Think we're startin’ to get into nightmare territory there, you two." (Miz looked a little embarrassed. "I always fully cook them! So they’re dead," she mumbled.)

"You asked," Bill pointed out.

"Yeah, I did," said Stan. "And you two still don't know where to stop without somebody else tellin' you," Stan sighed out, pushing himself back away from the table, as a precursor to him standing up. Miz wilted slightly, frowning as she wondered what she did wrong this time. Parasitic mushrooms were native to Earth, they had those things here too...

Bill was a bit confused himself. To be more careful, he relegated ‘fungi’ to a list of ‘needing clarification on’ items, and didn’t talk about it further. (For the moment...)

Miz finished the rest of her food before commenting, "I cook things hot enough to kill bacteria, without having to char them…" And she always cleaned her ingredients because she didn’t like germs either.

"Depends on the bacteria and… other-things," Bill said, of that and of fungus.

"Bill, you have bacteria colonies living _inside_ you," Ford pointed out rather pointedly.

Bill sent him a long look. " _Yes_ , Sixer. _I know_ ," Bill said, sounding highly annoyed as he got up from the table, and picked up his used bowl and utensil and empty mug. "That _doesn’t_ mean that I feel overly inclined to go off ingesting any MORE of them into my stupid human-ish body’s stupid digestive tract when I don't have to."

Ford leaned back against the counter, as Bill walked up to the sink and put his own dishes in… and then turned on the water and started to wash everything, one by one. (...Including his own dishes, Ford noted with a narrow-eyed gaze at Bill.)

Ford crossed his arms.

"You do realize that this whole conversation is academic, don’t you?" Ford began, about to point out that--

"Not really," said Stan, getting up himself to add his own dishes to the stack. "Move a bit, yeah?" Stan asked Ford. (Ford grimaced, but moved over a bit more, to watch Stan open up a drawer and pull out a clean dish towel.) "Figure it might kinda be important to know if the kid’s getting everything he needs to eat." Stan glanced over at Bill as he took a dish from Bill to dry. "So how much energy do you need to ‘feed’ on when you’re tied down like that?" is what Stan asked Bill next.

And that left Ford absolutely expressionless and aghast, because Stan could not _possibly_ mean to _help Bill in--!!_

(Oh dear Axolotl. --His brother had absolutely _no idea_ what he’d just said. No concept. **None.** )

Bill… seemed to hesitate for a second in place. He actually stopped moving at all for one long moment.

Then Bill continued with his dishwashing and said, "...I don’t think I need ANY right now. I _do_ have a reserve."

"That isn’t all that weirdness-energy stuff I’m holding onto for ya?" Stan asked him. (And Ford eyed his brother, because _that_ was a _very_ highly-nonstandard way to put it, if he was understanding the situation between the two of them, with this ‘anchor’ of Bill’s, correctly.)

"My reserve is incorporated into my form," Bill said neutrally.

"You’ll tell me if it gets to be a problem?" Stan said. "Or looks like it’s gonna be?"

"--Stan," Ford said warningly. "I don’t think you realize what he has to do in order to--"

"--I can BUY IT in another dimension, you idiot," was what Bill ground out at him next. "And then eat it right there on the spot, after just a little more burning-it cleaning. As long as I don’t have to carry the energy through a portal," was what Bill said almost-disparagingly next, "I _WON’T_ have to worry about having to potentially clean out any hard resonances, that would end up taking me more energy to clean out of that stupid stuff then I’d be receiving back in. IT’S FINE."

Ford clenched his jaw. "That’s just _shifting_ the **ethical** problem to--"

"--I can get it sourced from _WHOEVER I WANT_ , if you REALLY want to go THAT FAR and THAT FLAT!" Bill snarled out at him, slapping the dishcloth he was using down into the sink. "It’s EASIER and CHEAPER if I get it from NON-SENTIENT NON-SAPIENT growing-things anyway in the FIRST PLACE!" Bill rounded on him, before looking over at Stan. "--It’s fine!" Bill repeated, sounding thoroughly stressed.

Stan looked down at him. "I don’t want you going off places alone," said Stan. Ford shot a glare his way, because that was _not_ the issue--!

"Then you can _come with_ me," Bill said tersely, turning back to the sink and grabbing up his dishcloth again. Ford barely suppressed the urge to throttle Bill at that; he wasn’t _about_ to let Bill use an excuse to portal-jump his brother off anyplace he wouldn’t be able to get back from on his own.

"I hear ya, kid. We’ll figure something out that’ll work," Stan said, as he looked over at Ford. Ford let out a long slow breath, and forced himself to try and relax, as he realized that his brother wasn’t simply saying ‘yes’ to Bill. His brother hadn’t forgotten Ford’s worries in either of the other two dimensions that they’d visited with Bill so far.

Miz seemed to be thinking about the amount she would need during their conversation, because she spoke up with, "It’s… more difficult to do stuff in this dimensional set than in my own. I know back home I don't technically need to eat in the traditional sense, and only feel hungry when I want to be. So I’m burning through more energy here than I would back home. I need to eat here to replenish more quickly. I could technically not eat and just do nothing for a day to get my energy levels back up, but I like eating…" She pressed a few fingers to her headband. "And I can’t feed on emotions while I’m here, so I need to get it from elsewhere." She took her dirty dishes over to the sink. "Though at least I can just feed on the atomic bonds between molecules for energy if I need to. It’s much more efficient than being tied down into a human-ish body with its limited energy conversion…"

"Yes," Bill agreed, taking her dishes from her, and working on cleaning those next.

"So Miz don’t need to feed on energy, just eat _something_ she can get energy from, and you need food and, uh, water, and you’ll need more energy… eventually," Stan reiterated, trying to summarize. "I got that right, kid?"

"Eventually, yes. And yes," was Bill’s response.

Ford pulled in another breath. (At least Bill wasn’t _planning on_ doing **that** again anytime soon. Supposedly.)

"Should I call Melody and ask her to come over to watch Bill?" Ford asked of Stan next, sending a look Bill’s way. This was another of those days that the Mystery Shack was closed for the day. "Since he’s not actually going anywhere on this little trip of yours out-of-town."

Stan looked over at him, then down at the kid. "You didn’t tell him."

"Not like the subject’s come up," Bill said. "Or that you’ve been out of the room when I’ve been with him, long enough for it _to_ come up as part of some ‘taunting’," Bill said next.

"Not even in the woods?" Stan said, sounding surprised. "Either time?"

"Was running and laughing mostly, the first time," Bill said, handing over the last of Stan’s now-clean dishes. "Second time with Miz, I was focused on Miz. So was he."

Ford saw Stan’s frown, and, irritated, Ford asked, " _What don’t I know?!_ "

Bill smiled widely, and looked _about_ to say something… but ended up not, while Stan (for his part) glanced over at him again. He looked almost apologetic. "Ford, the kid ain’t stuck in town."

Ford stared at him. "Stanley, _of course_ he’s--" stuck in town. (Otherwise, the problem of where Bill would stay and potentially who-with or nearby -- along with the problem of the rest of the townspeople potentially finding out about Bill being back -- would be purely _academic_ , if Bill could simply leave the surrounding environs and--) His brother was shaking his head at him. _Why_ was he--?

"Ford, you almost ran him out past that ‘weird barrier’s edge that one time with the explosion and the monster," Stan told him, sighing. He finished drying the last bowl, set it down, and then tossed the dish towel over his shoulder. "You really didn’t think the kid didn’t check it out right then?"

But that wasn’t-- "He never said--" Ford began, then stared down and across his brother at Bill. "Bill, can you--" Ford swallowed hard, mind racing. "Can you _get outside_ the barrier surrounding the town?"

"Yes," said Bill.

Ford stared. Because _Bill wasn’t lying._ "But--"

"Ford," Stan said, sounding tired. "The kid can make portals to completely other dimensions. And back here again. _Wherever_ , and _whenever_ , he wants. _Even if_ he was really ‘stuck’ here, he could just make one to someplace else in another dimension, make another one _back here_ from there to somewhere _else_ outside the town here, and just pop right back on through. Yeah?"

The worst part was, his brother was saying it all in ‘you _really_ didn’t think of this?’ tones.

"--But he acted like he couldn’t get out _before_ , during Weirdmageddon, when--!!" Ford protested, then stopped when Bill said:

"I wasn’t thinking clearly. I listened _to you_ , when you told me it was _your_ dumb idea all over again. The ‘Falls _‘natural law of weirdness magnetism’_ , and all that," Bill waved off. "It wasn’t that," Bill said simply, with an odd sort of calm to his tone. (And Stan watched the kid carefully, because he knew that that seemingly 'calm’ wasn't **actually** _calm_ at all.)

Miz sat back down and just listened to this. Hm. She really needed to figure out what that barrier keeping her from her own 3rd Dimension was all about. It didn’t seem to exist HERE so it must be something unique to her own dimensional set, right? And hers wasn’t limited to just the area around Gravity Falls, but the entire dimension as it were.

"It… it wasn’t?" Ford said, feeling a little off-balance, and very much lost.

"No," said Bill. "Not LEAST of which because it’s MY WEIRDNESS, _understand?_ " Bill let out an annoyed click-chirp-chitter, then added, "Got all _sidetracked_ when you started acting like you _wanted_ to make it one of those… _‘I’ll never tell **you** ANYTHING, villain!’_ moments." Bill rolled his eyes (...at himself?), as he turned off the water to the sink, and rung out the dishcloth, to hang it up to dry. "So there goes _critical thinking!_ Right out the window, along with the bathwater!" Bill said almost sing-song, with a particular _edge_ to his tone, waving a hand around. "Because _what Sixer wants_ \--"

"-- _ **Bill**_ ," Stan said warningly, and Bill grimaced and stopped. "You’re bumpin’ up against the line," Stan told Bill (as Ford himself fought for breath in his anger. Because of _Cipher’s stupid games--_ ) "Take a breath. Stick to the facts and numbers. Things, not people. And look out the window," Stan said next. " _Don’t_ look at Ford." (Ford stared at Stan, at the last.)

"-- _Fine_ ," Bill said, still looking very annoyed... after taking a deep breath, and letting it out, and fixing his gaze (continually) out the window. (What…) "I should’ve _known_ better even _without_ the rest. A _magnetism_ pull would be stronger in the center, weaker at the edges -- NOT a stupid ‘bubble’ with a sharp boundary-edge; I should’ve been able to _CRAWL UP_ the entire gradient-curve if it was THAT." Bill bared his teeth at no-one in particular. "And _WHAT_ exactly in this-your-world, under or in or of a ‘gravity’ sort of field, _EVER_ looks like a _perfect sphere_ \--"

"--except something that’s man-made," Stan finished for him(!?).

"Yes," said Bill, his visage even from the side looking angry. " _Stupid_ Time ‘Police’. Set up a _barrier_. The jerks." Bill said in a sneer, then gave a slight (angry?) laugh, as he passed his hands… against the sides of his head on both sides of it. "Didn’t even _tune_ it to my energy waveforms properly! I walked _right on through_ after…" Bill looked down at himself and grimaced.

_Time Police Barrier?_ Miz tilted her head at that. There was no way she’d be held back by anything the Time Police in her own world tried on her. She was stronger than Time Baby now, even without a true body. But then again, she supposed they hadn’t really _tried_ to take her down with all their forces before...

"Wasn’t thinking clearly," Bill muttered out again. "Probably shouldn’t have had that much Time Punch at the party when I was the one hosting it, either. Then the Henchmaniacs couldn’t get out when I told them they could go out there, on to Phase Two, and they started getting _restless_..." Ford stared at Bill, as Bill’s face got an almost strained quality to it.

Ford shook his head at this. "But… but the natural weirdness of Gravity Falls--" Ford nearly stumbled over the thought that _the weirdness **wasn’t** natural_, **wasn't** just 'leaking in’ from the Nightmare Realm, _the weirdness was **Bill’s** (?!)_ "--must do _something!_ " Ford blurted out. ...And then he realized exactly how he’d sounded, in saying that.

...But Bill didn’t jeer at or mock him for it, and Stan didn’t call him out on it. Bill just stretched a bit in place, and Stan didn’t react negatively to what he’d just said in the least.

"It DOES do something," Bill told him, turning around back to face him. "It makes it ACTUALLY COMFORTABLE here," Bil informed him, "Like--" and then Bill blinked and cut himself off right there.

Ford frowned at him. So did Stanley, but it was his thinking frown again.

"...Like?" Stan prompted Bill, and Bill looked away, looking distinctly uncomfortable for some reason, though Ford couldn’t imagine _why_ \--

"Like home," Bill said quietly, after a long moment. "It makes it feel more like home." Miz blinked at that response. Well, she tilted her head and Felt around. It did feel kinda like being surrounded by energy, pressing in… almost like a hug but not?

Ford stared, and Stan asked next, "What does it feel like too far out from the town? Away from all the weirdness junk?"

Bill looked over at Stan and frowned a little.

"...Colder," Bill said slowly, as if he wasn’t entirely sure that the concept was the closest one to correct. He looked a bit uncomfortable as he explained, "It feels ‘colder’." Then Bill seemed to shake the feeling off. "It’s more comfortable here," Bill repeated, seeming to relax a bit in place as he said it.

Ford stared, because… that was _very nearly_ the same sort of reaction that he seen in most _cryptids_ he could actually converse with, when he mentioned what they thought of leaving the area. (They hadn’t been able to describe the feeling itself, other than simply ‘liking it better here’, but the _casual disregard_ for the idea of ever leaving to go someplace else? That was _exactly_ the same as he’d seen with-- _EXACTLY_ the same--) And of the cryptids which he hadn’t been able to talk to? --Trying to drive or direct them (at an amble or a run) past the edges of the most-strict fall-off in weirdness had had those cryptids reacting with _clear_ discomfort, turning around and trying to get past him -- or go ‘straight-through’ the source of the noises (that he was making) that were disturbing or alarming them enough to otherwise avoid said source of said noise -- despite the agitation doubling-back to move _towards_ those noises again would have otherwise caused them.)

"You need a weirdness-sweater, or something, for the trip?" Stan said to Bill next, and Ford (quite startled by Stan’s recommendation) looked over at his brother, wondering...

Miz suddenly got a glint in her eye, to which Stan sighed and said, " _No_ , Miz. Don’t go making him an _actual_ weirdness-sweater. Let the kid do it himself if he wants it." Miz pouted. "Awww…"

"Hey," Stan complained at her. "You want to try and explain to Mabel why she can’t help you out with some kind of sweater-making thing? --Yeah, didn’t think so," Stan said, at Miz’s next look. (Ford couldn’t help but give a sympathetic wince at the idea of the culmination of _that_ particular scenario.) "Kid?" Stan asked again.

"...I’ll be fine," Bill said slowly. But Ford noticed that the triangle demon, head tilted slightly, was looking at Stan a bit oddly now.

"You sure?" Stan said to that, to which Bill replied much more firmly: " _Yes._ "

"Heh. Fine," said Stan, tossing the dishcloth to the side for the laundry. "Hey, why don’t you and your sister talk ‘seating accommodations’ for the trip, how you’re gonna handle that whole thing. Let me talk to Ford alone for a minute," Stan added.

Miz got up and pattered out of the kitchen, heading up the stairs, turning to check if Bill was following. (Bill was, though at his own, somewhat-slower and more easygoing, unrushed pace.)

Ford glanced over at his brother.

"So, I got half-ambushed by the kid and his sister last night," Stan told him. "Had to explain why you keep getting all pissy with Miz when she gets all talky on things you don’t like."

Ford frowned at him. "Do I _dare ask_ what you actually told them?" Ford said, taking off his glasses to rub a hand across his face, feeling tired. ~~(Maybe he should just go back to bed... while his brother and the demons were out…)~~

"Mostly, just that you’re only tryin’ to tell Miz what she’s doin’ wrong because you think _maybe_ she’ll stop doin’ it if you do, though you ain’t holdin’ your breath on that one," Stan told him. "And that they need to stop talking to the kids about all the ‘back then’ horribleness so much -- though the demons still don’t got a handle on any of that, so we’ll see how it goes." Stan frowned, and leaned back against the counter. "Kid was surprised when I told them how pissed off I was gettin’ at some of the junk that the dragon-lady keeps tryin’ to pull. So, he didn’t know, I guess. So I’m gonna need to talk through _more_ ‘mental attack’ stuff with him, _again_ ," Stan said with a sigh, as Ford stared at him. "And I told 'em that I’d come down on his sister a _lot_ harder, if she wanted to go with bein’ told direct instead of lettin’ her figure it out for herself -- and she went with direct, so… yeah," which had Ford blinking multiple times at his brother. "Guess that’s pretty much it," was what Stan ended on.

Ford opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. He rubbed his face with both hands before finally letting out a, " _Right._ And you think they're going to listen?"

"You do," Stan said. "Or you wouldn’t keep talkin’ to Miz." Ford hesitated in place, as Stan looked up at him. "You would’ve put her on that kill list with Bill by now, instead. You ain’t tryin’ to get her to ‘strike out’ with him, either."

Ford shifted in place slightly, feeling more than a little off-balance there.

"I’m _not_ trying to--" Ford began, then paused.

"Kids told me you ain’t so sure the kid’s one of your ‘demons’ anymore," Stan said neutrally. "‘From the outside’ of someplace? Just a different ‘type’ maybe, but still different. --And I _know_ you ain’t actually sure about Miz, other than her ‘demon’ behavior," Stan said, and Ford looked away, grimacing.

"It hardly matters all that much, if I'm still not able to kill her properly and permanently, myself, if it comes to that," Ford said defensively, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Except you were sayin’ before, that _the point_ of needin’ to kill Bill ‘ _right_ ’," and Stan made actual air-quotes at him, with his fingers, "Is to make sure that he won’t come back. You don’t know if you can’t kill her or not, and you know that there’s a way to ‘stake’ her down," Stan said. "But I don’t see you going off and obsessing down in your lab over how to do _that_."

"You don’t know that I haven’t been thinking about it. Frequently." Ford felt more than a little pissed. Because it wasn’t like he _hadn’t_ thought about-- it just wasn’t _practical_ **or** feasible at this stage-- and the horror of _actually managing_ to do so, in that way--

"--Ford, do you want to come with us on this thing or not?" was what Stan asked him next, giving him a feeling of mental whiplash.

"No," Ford said tensely, literally tensing up at just the _idea_ of being **stuck** _in a car_ **with Bill Cipher** , for _however_ long--

"What’re you plannin’ on doing while we’re gone?" was what Stan asked him next, and Ford let out a breath and slowly began to relax in place a little bit, his arms loosening.

"Sleeping, most likely," Ford said, which got a skeptical eyebrow raise out of his brother. "Either the niblings swapped out the coffee on me again, or I actually _do_ feel tired, Stan," Ford told his brother.

"You can sleep in the car," Stan told him, and Ford sent him a sharp look. "Pretty sure that the kid’s gonna end up flyin’ outside the thing along with the dragon-lady," Stan told him. "You can always walk out to the car with us, to ‘see us off’, and decide after you figure out the seating arrangement," Stan put out there.

Ford grimaced, as Stan straightened away from the counter next to him. Ford put his glasses on and asked of his brother sarcastically as he did so, " _Why_ in the _world_ would I want to do **that?** "

"To keep an eye on the kid when he’s not interacting with people who are dumb as sticks, like the idiots in town," Stan told him, simply and straightforwardly, and Ford jerked his head up to look at him with a feeling of raw _panic_ \-- "I’ll be keepin’ an eye on him too," his brother told him, as he walked out of the kitchen, "But still… y’know?"

Ford stared after his brother, as he disappeared around the corner, presumably to his bedroom, to change into some actual clothing.

And Ford had a feeling a bit like cold water had just been dumped on him when he realized… _had Stan just tried to blackmail him into coming along?_

\---

**Miz's Cooking Tangent!**

A simple recipe using mostly veggies and no added salt! Of course, you don’t have to cook it as much as BlueBill needs to! There’s also an omelette version if you like eggs.

What you’ll need:

  
Veggies! I used Kale for this sample recipe. Wash and chop them up!  
  
Fruit Juice! I used Cranberry for this sample recipe because it’s sour. Works best if you use something you enjoy.  
  
A nonstick skillet or wok, so you don’t have to use oil (though some veggie oil is fine if you want to be sure it doesn’t stick.)  
  
A rubber/wooden spatula (because you can’t use metal with non-stick surfaces.)  
  
Three large eggs (if you want to make an omelette.)  


Turn the heat up to medium, place the washed vegetables in the wok. You don’t have to dry them since all the liquid’s going to boil off anyway and the moisture helps with cooking. Once the wok heats up, gently stir and move the veggies around so they all cook evenly. Once the water has evaporated off, pour in a little fruit juice. Not too much, the point is to flavor the veggies. Pour in a little juice, listen to it sizzle and bubble as it boils. Continue stirring the veggies around as they cook in the juices. Turn the heat lower if you’re afraid it might burn.

Once the veggies are cooked and you’ve added and evaporated off enough fruit juice to flavor, turn off the heat and serve. It’s an easy way to make people eat veggies since they’ll be flavored semi-sweet now.

If you want to make the omelette version, simply follow the same steps, and then add eggs.

You can beat the eggs separately in a bowl and pour it into the cooking veggies (after they’ve been flavored with fruit juice) or you can be lazy and just crack ‘em right in and stir quickly with your spatula, we’re not trying to scramble them so once they’re mixed up, leave it alone to cook for a bit.

Once you can slip your spatula underneath the egg mix and begin lifting it up and away from the wok, pour in a little more fruit juice around the egg mix, lifting it to let the juices slide under and cook into the egg. Once the liquid has boiled off, flip the omelette over to cook the other side, repeating the fruit juice thing when it’s cooked enough you can lift the edges.

And there you go. A sweet veggie/egg omelette. I used Kale and cranberry juice in mine but I’d love to see what other people make.

**End of Miz’s Cooking Tangent!**

\---

After Stan called Fiddleford (both to check that the kids _were_ actually with him -- and that the Northwest girl _was_ actually there with them, too -- and to tell them more of the specifics on his plan for the day), they all went outside to the car. Stan took his time hooking up the small trailer to the tow hitch at the back of it (which looked more like an oversized cart than an actual trailer). Meanwhile, Miz shifted into her dragon form, smaller than her full size (for Ford's peace of mind), and was shivering as she applied a Perception Filter that blocked her from sight from anyone else except their group.

"Are you all right?" Bill asked her, as he walked back over from retrieving his lantern-hook rod. He turned it sideways-to-hover, and sat down on it side-saddle, then frowned as he got an even better up-close look at her. "You’re shaking."

Miz nodded. "I'm fine. I'm just… thinking." Of how to reevaluate who she was as a person, how to interact with people, how to be a better person...

"About what?" Stan asked her, as he opened up the driver’s side door of the Stanleymobile. (He wondered if the car was too close to her…)

Miz sighed. "I'm an asshole," she ‘said’ to him despairingly.

Heh. "Well, yeah," said Stan, leaning against the driver’s side door with a relaxed stance. "So am I." Ford let out a huff of breath and slapped him in the arm for his trouble, which had Stan grinning up a storm at him for the chastisement.

Miz floated into the air, hovering and wiggling like a ribbon caught in the wind. "I am supposed to try and not be as much of an asshole?" Miz asked, sounding unsure.

Stan sighed. Hadn’t she been listening _at all_ last night? (...Then again, the kid had misunderstood him on some of the 'talking to Ford' stuff, too.)

"--You’re supposed to **not** go around _mentally and physically attacking people_ ," he told her. Not like that had changed. "You screw up at that? You learn why you screwed up, and you try not to make the same mistake again. Actually try, and actually learn. --Being ‘an asshole’ or not’s got _nothing_ to do with that; neither does bein’ a saint," Stan added at the end for his brother’s benefit, sending a loaded glance Ford’s way. "It’s just your basic, ‘keep your damn claws to yourself’ kinda junk, dragon-lady," he directed back up at her. "Unless you’ve got a _really good_ reason not to, because somebody started a fight with you by trying to attack you first. That’s all."

Miz nodded. "So, I should try to figure out what counts as an attack?" She frowned. "That's the part I have to really figure out." She tilted her head. "I need a list or something." And then she needed to avoid them, because talking about that sort of thing when people didn't like it was asshole behavior.

"Yeah, that’s the part you really have to figure out," Stan repeated back to her, for clarity. "So does the kid, still," Stan told her, "Along with how to handle stopping stuff nonlethally without that stuff staying or becoming even _more_ of a problem again later." Because that was the main reason the kid had for immediately jumping to 'kill it! kill it now!' in the first place. "Have the kid run through what he _does_ know, that I’ve told him already, with you, if he hasn’t already. Maybe on the way? Give you two something to talk about up there, for the trip?" Stan put out there. Miz nodded and flew up a little so she was near the car but nowhere close to touching it; above it and in front of it slightly. She stayed within view.

Bill floated up via his lantern-hook rod himself, to sit on it sidesaddle and in-line with her, floating next to her side.

They both looked down at Stan and the car and trailer-hitch, waiting.

Stan looked up at them (so did Ford), and then he looked down to look at his brother, who was standing right next to him.

Stan tilted his head at him slightly, with that _smile_ on his face… _that just kept getting wider_...

Ford’s shoulders came up, and he glared at his brother as he clenched his fists at his side.

(... _and kept getting wider_...)

" _Fine!_ " Ford snapped out at him, feeling _incredibly_ pissed off as he stomped around to the other side of the car and yanked on the car door handle.

...which didn’t open, obviously, because Stan hadn’t unlocked the damn passenger’s side door for him yet. (Ford felt the nearly overwhelming urge to faceplant forehead-first into the car roof right in front of him, as he heard his brother chuckle and saw him ease his way down into the driver’s seat of the car.)

...and Miz was trying to quickly muffle a giggle too… Which didn't make Ford feel any better. (...though it _did_ have him glaring up at her as he waited for Stan to just--)

Stan reached over across the emergency brake and unlocked the passenger’s side door first, before reaching out for the handle to grab and slam his own car door closed.

Ford pulled open the door, got in, sat down, and slammed his own door shut with a huff.

(He didn’t exactly like how incredibly _nervous_ he felt as he did all of these simple, straightforward things--)

"Seatbelt, Ford," his brother chided him, as he put on his own, and Ford nearly said something disparaging about how, with the number of crash-landings of actual _spacecraft from orbit_ that he’d survived, he highly doubted that a simple _car crash_ would be the way that he’d go--

...But those spacecraft had had miles-beyond _far_ more safety features in them than his brother’s ‘hunk of junk’ could ever _dream_ of _hoping_ to ever reach some fateful day, if Ford _ever_ got his hands on it for any serious length of time, and so Ford simply yanked his seatbelt down and buckled it in place in one smooth motion, without comment.

"Seat belts are important." Miz said seriously from above. --Right, she claimed to have died in a car crash. Ford rolled his eyes but chose not to comment.

"She isn’t going to try and crash _this_ car from above, is she?" Ford muttered out at his brother, rather seriously. "Or set it on fire?"

"Eh, it's fine. I got a fire extinguisher in the back… maybe," was his brother’s laissez-faire response (with accompanying shrug) to his very valid concerns.

Miz huffed before calling out calmly, "No I will not. Mabel would be quite distressed if her favorite grunkles didn't make it back home safely from their trip!"

...Somehow, Ford did not think that Mabel's potential future distress would faze the man-eater in the least. And it wasn’t as if Bill could not simply ‘roll them back’ to a time before either of the niblings had ever met either of _them_ , apparently, if he so desired. It wasn’t as though Bill was _required_ to ‘kick them out of their bodies’ before ‘de-aging’ them if he wanted to, was he?

Ford thought dourly on this and other demon-related thoughts, as Stan started the car, and they were all on their way.

"How long is this trip going to take?" Ford asked Stan, as they pulled out onto the highway.

"Really?" Stan said, glancing over at him. "You’re _really_ gonna pull the ‘are we there yet’ on me on this one?"

Ford let out a long and lengthy sigh, and half-slid, half-slumped down a bit in his seat.

Despite Ford’s worries, the drive was uneventful. He even nodded off only a few minutes in to the rather smooth ride of the car (generally uncharacteristic of Stan’s usual driving style, which was more racecar-esque on a good day) and the rumbling engine. The demons’ overall chatter was unintelligible to the two humans below them at the highway speeds they were travelling at, having simply faded into and well under the background noise of the engine and wind when the drive first picked up.

Miz had shivered as they passed the edge of town. "This feels nothing like the barrier around my 3rd dimension. It's warm? No, that's not quite the right word…"

"Yes," Bill agreed, of 'warm’ and 'cold’ being not quite the right words to describe the sensation of 'home’. The barrier being in place made it a hard and artificially-quick shift, not a soft and natural transition gradient. Then Bill smiled and added, "The barrier is mine now. I didn't take it down; I re-tuned the stupid thing to bad-things-not-me and locked it," Bill said of the ‘Time Police’ barrier in-passing. (--which was now HIS! ALL HIS! HAHAHAHAHA!) "Why get rid of a perfectly useful working tool, when I can make it work for ME and ONLY ME?" the triangle demon said somewhat rhetorically. "--I added you to it awhile ago," Bill said. It hadn’t taken but a few moments with his (currently invisible) bodysuit’s wrist control and his private visual interface; he’d done it the first day, as soon as it had occurred to him that she might be staying awhile, and why he might want to do it.

Miz flew a little closer to nuzzle Bill. "Thanks." (Bill smiled, and reached out a hand to run across her scales lightly in-passing.) She also kept her Eye out for any danger on the roads. She wasn't going to crash Stan's car and she sure as fuck wasn't going to let some other thing crash into it. Other drivers were the most dangerous thing on the road.

After awhile, Stan took an exit ramp off of the highway, and followed the road for a bit. Eventually, he ended up passing more and more landmarks of ‘actual civilization’, until he reached a rather big warehouse-looking district, and slowed down further to pull into a very large parking lot soon after.

Miz floated down and shimmered back into her human form, shaking her arms and stretching as she got used to having a bipedal body again. Bill, for his part, slowly drifted further and further down, then slid off of his lantern-hook rod smoothly to a standing posture. (Then he leaned it against his shoulder, in the crook of his arm, as he pulled his ‘eyepatch’-hat out of a pocket and ‘foofed’ it out, to lift and drop the rod straight back down into it. He re’folded’ his hat back into its new eyepatch form and shoved it back into his pocket directly after, as if he’d done it a million times before.)

Ford shifted and stirred as the car came to a stop, and the engine turned off. He lifted his head slightly, looking a bit confused.

"...You did that on purpose," Ford said accusingly, though most of the bite was taken out of it, as he was still half-asleep as he said it. He slowly sat up and looked around, scratching a hand through his hair.

Stan smiled. He knew Ford was complaining about the drive being too smooth. "You said you wanted to sleep some more," Stan shrugged off with no small amusement, to which he got a petulant glower that he couldn’t help but chuckle at. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead, c’mon," he told his brother, as he pulled the keys from the ignition and shoved the car door open. (Sure, maybe his brother was gonna screw up his sleep schedule by sleeping more during the day for this, but if he really _had_ felt tired before, even with the caffeine...)

(Ford let out a sigh, long and deep, but he followed him.)

Miz was looking up at the warehouse while shuffling closer to her brother at the sight of the crowds. Stan noted she was now dressed in a pink hoodie with black pants, which wasn't what she was wearing before. Huh. ...Maybe she liked to change up her clothes?

"Come on." Stan called out as he strode forward into the building, pulling out his membership card to show the worker at the door. This place sold stuff in bulk but required a membership. Luckily, their cards were easy to forge and Stan didn't have to pay the monthly fee. Hah!

"Cos’bro?" Miz raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," said Stan. "You get a lot of frat boys here for the beer, and farm boys here for the meat. Otherwise, it ain’t so bad. --Hey, _get your own cart!_ " Stan yelled out at the ninety-year-old looking woman who tried to wrestle him for, yes, what looked like the very last one.

After a bit of a tug of war and a tussle, Stan managed to hip-check her off of the thing and ran off with it, wheels rattling and flying, yelling out "YES! IN YOUR FACE YOU LOUSY GRANDMA!" as he went -- laughing up a storm at the win, as she cursed at him from the floor and waved an angry fist at his quickly vanishing-into-the-distance backside.

Stan then slowed down a bit, as Ford and the demons caught up to him. "Oh, yeah. And the tea-party grandmas," Stan said, picking up his conversation _right where he’d left off_ , "‘Cause the tea here comes in these, I dunno, some kinda wooden barrel-sized cylinder-bin things or something." Stan waved it off like he didn’t care. "--Gotta play it smart, here," Stan told them all with a grin.

Ford looked at Stan with sheer exasperation, while Miz nodded, noting down Stan's behavior as _apparently_ ‘kinda, sorta, acceptable within a human setting’. "Can we get one of those tea canisters…" Miz seemed to realize something. "Is this where you got those industrial-sized sprinkle containers for Mabel?"

"Well, yeah," Stan said. "Uh. _Kinda._ \--Had to take one of the metal barrels they usually use for vegetable oil and stuff it full of the stuff from a bunch of those smaller fertilizer-sized sprinkle bags instead," Stan told her. "‘Cause they were outta the actual ones, but I’d promised her. --Managed to get one of the right labels for it, even." Apparently it had fallen off of one of the other containers that they’d sold; the guy had found it for him in the back-back room of the warehouse, waiting for the next shipment to arrive. Rodrigo had owed him a solid, and boy, had Stan collected.

Ford was rubbing his temples. _Why_ had he thought that Stan would be able to teach the demons about ‘normal’ human behavior?! "Is that woman alright?" Ford asked, as he glanced back in the direction of the entrance, where they’d left the old woman who was last seen cursing up a storm behind them.

"Yeah, she’s fine," said Stan. "Pretty sure she’s about to try and ambush us from behind the cat litter pile over there. --Quick, dump a couple of those licorice bags in here! And one a’ those triple-black coffee bags!" Stan said with an excited grin, pointing to two areas on the shelves ahead of them, at the end of the aisle they were just passing, with bags that Ford swore were at least as large as Mabel’s pig was nowadays. " _That’ll_ scare her off!"

Bill and Miz moved quickly to comply, in their usual odd sort of unsynchronized unison, and, sure enough, when they moved past the enormous cat litter pile (a pyramid of gigantic bags boldly emblazoned with a claim of a ‘900-day supply’ that Ford swore disappeared up into the rafters…)

...the same old woman jumped out at them, brandishing a _cane_ at them this time as she grabbed the side of the cart, looked down to see what was in it-- and _hissed_ at them all. She let go and stumbled back -- to be nearly mowed down by another freewheeling cart (to both Ford’s horror and his dismay), and he ran off with them all away from the scene of the crime, to the tune of a "Hah! _Thought_ I smelled the cat piss on her!" from his far-too-jubilant at the madness surrounding them brother.

Ford had a hand held over his mouth, as he tried not to feel (or at least tried to feel a little _less_ of) the sheer mortification he was currently feeling with his brother just then. Could he get away with trying to pretend that he didn't know them? ...No, that wouldn't work, they had the same face. (And the last time that Ford had tried that on Stan, when they’d been on their boat adventure, Stan had nearly _left him behind_ at the pier later, until he’d made Ford do something _just as stupid_ **incredibly** loudly out in front of everyone and their dog who was within hearing distance at the dock, before leaving port. In order to show him that ‘it doesn’t matter, Ford; no one cares -- so why should you? Just have _fun_ with it!’) And-- was Miz _applauding_ Stan’s ‘genius’? ...Yes; yes, she was. She was _applauding_ Stan for this. Actually applauding him!!!

Stan let out a laugh of pure happiness and glee, and _took a bow_ , and--

It suddenly occurred to Ford in a flash _why_ the Axolotl, in its infinite wisdom and patience, might have actually ‘ _saddled_ ’ Bill with his brother. And vice-versa.

...Unfortunately for _him_ , Ford did _not_ have the patience of the Axolotl. (A fact which he well knew.)

It was still a little more than disheartening to see, and-- hell, call it what it was, Ford felt physically _ill_ at watching this display. He’d _never_ actually made the comparison before. But seeing his brother acting this way now, against this backdrop of people and madness and demons, with the last gasping vestiges of common-sense seemingly completely overridden by the pure and grasping **greed** _surrounding_ them--

Ford turned on his heel and walked _right_ back out of the store.

\---

Somehow, Miz had managed to sweet talk a whole bundle of Cup Ramen AND a non-lactose milk carton out of the workers. They gave her a coupon code for 30% off her ‘family’s’ purchase. She had gone back to Stan with an armful of noodles cups and a wide grin as she held up the coupon. "Was this good for a first try?" she asked.

"Heh," Stan said, taking the coupon from her and shoving it in a jacket pocket. "You’re a natural, kid," he praised her, not least of which because she _was_. That was some Mabel-level stuff that he’d just seen going on, right there.

He saw Bill glancing over in the direction of the front entrance (and exit) again, and Stan said, "Stop worrying about it, kid."

"I’m not worried," Bill said, not looking worried. (Yeah, he looked annoyed, not worried, but that was what worried _looked_ like on the kid.)

"Ford’s fine," he told the demon-kid. "He does this sometimes. Had to take a breather once in awhile, even on the boat. --They don’t got a book section here, or a music one. It was gonna happen eventually."

"He's embarrassed to be seen with us?" Miz asked. She could pick up on this somewhat, she knew a few people who would be embarrassed to be around her in public sometimes. And she HAD seen his mortified expression earlier, before he left.

Stan glanced over at her. "If he is," he told the demons as he pushed the cart down the next aisle, "I’ll just make him go off and sing the first twelve verses of ‘A Drunken Sailor-Wife’ at the _whole_ parking lot before we leave," just like he had at that one pier, when Ford had been getting all weird about his hands, and all the _normal people_ around ‘looking at them’ like he just wasn’t used to, just for being themselves. Stan wasn’t too worried about it. Wasn’t like Ford didn’t get all excited himself and stop worrying about what he looked like to other people, when _he_ got all riled up over stuff. It just had to be the right stuff. (Like the place he was plannin’ on taking Ford next, for coming along on _this_ supply run…)

Miz tilted her head, eyes flickering as she checked on Ford outside. "He's just hanging around the car. He's fine," she said for Bill's benefit.

Bill let out a huff of breath. "I’m NOT WORRIED about him," he repeated, looking away from all of them. Miz and Stan both gave him a deadpan and skeptical stare each, not fooled in the slightest. Miz took pity on Bill’s pride and went off into the shelves to grab at a packet of ground beef. And a huge packet of chicken breasts. If her brother wanted to be weirdly Tsun-Tsun in his own way, she would leave him be.

"I’m worried about THEM," the kid said next, and that had Stan stopping the cart in place.

"Say that again," said Stan, and the kid let out another huff. "I’m worried about THEM. -- _Your brother and the frat boys_ ," Bill said, and Stan still didn’t get it. Ford had gone to college, what was so-- "The ones who came here to get all that alcohol, to get drunk? And are getting drunk? And are _going_ to try and ‘tease’ your brother about his hands, right before things get that-much-worse?" Bill prompted him, and it only took Stan a moment.

"Aren’t I supposed to be ‘looking out for him’ as the last one on the list for your priority order for the agreement? How am I supposed to do that if--" Bill didn’t quite finish saying, before Stan shoved the cart at him and raced off for the front of the store.

Bill let out a sigh and looked to Miz.

" _ALWAYS_ getting into trouble," Bill told his little sister, of that Stanford, as he took over pushing the cart. "EVERY TIME."

\---

Stan ran out to the front of the store, looking for a fight with a bunch of dumb frat boy punks--

\--and lowered his knuckle-duster-laden fists for a moment, as he took in the scene.

Ford was, _quite literally_ , leading the charge against an entire contingent of tea-party grandmas, with at least five truckloads of frat boys at his back.

They _all_ looked **unbelievably** drunk.

(The grandmas on their ‘special’ tea, and the frat boys -- _and Ford_ \-- on… who-the-hell knew what kind of beer cut with moonshine. ...Seriously, _Oregon_ sometimes.)

"RAAAWR!!!" A (smart?) glasses-wearing frat boy with his t-shirt tied around his head like a bandana (and those glasses slipping half-off his face) roared out at the line, as he staggered forward with a swaying gait, squinting at the row of shrieking grandmas. (Stan supposed it was meant to be a glare but he got the feeling the kid was actually just trying desperately to see straight.) Ford pointed forward and thundered out, "Focus, men! The goal is THERE!" (And THERE was apparently… the grandma-in-charge making faces at them and swinging somebody’s textbook around above her head? ...Well, that was straight-up nerd-bait, if Stan had ever saw it. Good thing he’d made Ford leave his guns in the car, or there’d _really_ be blood -- those grandmas knew how to _shoot straight **back**_...)

...Yeah, Ford’s side definitely was a lost cause. the grandmas were just _toying_ with them. (They didn't even have the guns out.) Frat boys were never gonna survive this. Five-to-one wasn’t anything _like_ good enough odds for them to pull off a--

"-- _CHAAAARGE!!_ " Ford yelled out, as the two sides gave up all pretenses and ran straight for each other, eager for battle.

"Ford, _you idiot_ ," Stan sighed out as the two sides clashed in the middle, transforming half the parking lot into sheer mayhem, because had his brother _never_ learned to read the odds? He shook his head and turned around to head back inside the store. (He was gonna need supplies for this…)

Miz waved at Stan when he came back. "I said he’s fine." She shrugged. The cart was filled with bags of vegetables, meat, bread, dried pasta, canned fruits...

"Yeah, no. He’s goin’ down," said Stan. "They’re gonna surround him and cage him in ‘time out’ and everything. Or worse." He eyed the cart. "We’re gonna need at least twelve more containers of this black-coffee stuff to extract him." Tossing handfuls of it at those tea-loving grandmas worked like a peach; better than sacred salt on those ghosts that thought they were vampires (the idiots).

Miz nodded and ran off to grab a few more containers. Bill turned to Stan and handed him some more slips of paper. "She got a few more coupons…" the demon informed Stan.

"Good," said Stan, already thinking a bit more strategically about his upcoming purchases...

\---

"...I _almost_ won?" Ford said, as he stared up at Stan from the backseat of the car, after successful coffee-and-’soda-bomb’-spray extraction from the ‘grandma time out’ corner.

"The _Cos’bro cops_ thought you were a _grandma_ ," Stan said. He'd thought that he'd find Ford all tied up in the middle of the group of grandmas, with the Cos'bro cops still in the middle of negotiating for the hostages; _maybe_ surrounded by a pack of jeering grandmas, caged in the 'time out’ area for the frat boys instead, while the Cos'bro cops were still in the middle of rounding up the rest of the grandmas, at best. But instead, Stan had found Ford in the middle of the grandma one, surrounded by Cos'bro cops, and not even tied up or anything neither. "That ain’t winning."

"But I successfully infiltrated their side and stole the textbook back!" Ford said, with a gleam in his eye, and Stan craned his head back at his brother (still cradling an icepack on his head) and really _looked_ at him.

"...You’re not even a _little_ bit drunk, are you," Stan said in descending tones, and Ford _laughed_.

Stan sighed. --His brother, _really_.

"How the hell did you manage that, anyway? They wouldn't think you were one of them unless you knew about everything from green oolong to black orange delight. Thought you didn’t like tea," Stan asked him, as he slowly pulled the fully-loaded up vehicle out of the parking lot, with two 'invisible' demons hovering above him (and two brand-spanking new electric coolers in the back trailer, that the frat boys had helped load up _for_ them for all the trouble of getting the one guy’s $250 textbook back -- never leave your truck unlocked around here, guy, geeze, hadn’t his buddies _warned_ him about those grandmas?) -- and _to this_ , Stan got a quiet, "...I used to."

Stan stopped at the traffic light, and looked back at him again. (His brother had used to like tea? When?)

Then Stan let out a sigh and turned away from him again, back to watching the light.

"...Ya still shouldn’t have done it," Stan told him after a long moment. "Taking on an entire bakers-dozen contingent of tea-party grandmas out there. _With_ a senior doily-maker as the thirteenth one, overseeing them." What, was Ford _trying_ to get himself killed?

"Well, it was for a good cause." Ford said, like that explained everything (because it did), as he pulled the ice away from his head to press his fingers against the bump, wincing a little. Miz had offered to heal him, which he had shot down immediately (not trusting her an inch with the least little bit of his body, in part or in whole). Miz had huffed but hadn’t pressed the issue. Bill had just looked on, made a single short ‘tsk’ sound at him upon seeing him, looked over at Stan... and hadn’t said one single solitary word about _any_ of it.

"Kid’s pissed off at you, y’know," Stan said in conversational tones to his brother. Ford made a scoffing sound at him. "Seriously; kid was worried about you. Brought up the agreement--"

"--He wasn’t worried about me," Ford cut in caustically. "He was worried about not ‘ _keeping_ ’ _you_."

Stan glanced back at him in the rear view mirror as he drove. Ford was avoiding his gaze, head turned away a bit from him, towards the backseat cushions instead. Ford was looking out the back window to avoid Stan’s eyes. (He could just about see the end of the dragon’s tail…)

"Same difference, ain’t it," Stan said, looking back to the road, and all the traffic on it.

"No," said Ford quietly.

Stan shrugged. "Same result, then," he responded easily.

"No, it isn’t," Ford said. Stan glanced back at him, and waited, until Ford took in a breath and said quietly next, "If _I_ had this ‘agreement’ of yours with him, and he was _actually_ following it, he would have been right out there beside me."

Stan frowned slightly at this.

"No, he wouldn’t," Stan said. "If it had been me out there, the kid wouldn’t have had to do a thing," Stan told him. "My job is to keep the fight offa the kid; my fights aren’t the kid’s fights, and that wasn’t the kid’s fight. --That would’ve been _my_ fight alone out there, goin’ solo," Stan told him. "If anything," Stan said, "The kid _should’ve_ been out there, outside, along with you _this_ time," Stan told him, frowning. "Only reason he wasn’t, was because Miz was here, and he was tryin’ to keep her away from it, from going overboard. If he hadn’t, somebody might’ve gotten torched," he told Ford, who was looking over at him now. "Too much chaos and collateral damage, not enough control; he don’t know how she fights, and he wouldn’t be able to guarantee you wouldn’t get hurt worse with them bein’ there than not." (Stan had a feeling that she might be a lot more destructive than the kid was, more of the time, what with being that much less than the kid was about the control. At least the kid knew how to avoid collateral damage when he wanted to. ...And Ford was frowning at him now.)

"You’re saying that if Miz wasn’t here…" Ford said slowly.

"Then because of the agreement I’ve got going with him, the kid would’ve been right out there with you, and he would’ve either dragged your dumb ass right back outta that mess, or waded right in alongside you. And you probably wouldn’t have a single scratch on you right now," Stan confirmed grimly, to dead silence from the backseat.

And there was silence in the car for a while after, too, except for the sound of the engine and the road they were driving on. Every now and then they would hear faint humming from Miz outside as she continued singing to entertain herself.

Until…

"--Take me out of the priority order," was what Ford said next.

" _Hell_ no," said Stan. "Why _the hell_ would I do--"

"--You _don’t_ know what it’s like," Ford said next, and Stan damn near slammed on the brakes as a chill ran down his spine.

And then Stan nearly let his foot come off the gas, to coast them to a stop at the side of the road, as something else occurred to him beyond _that_ , and his stomach dropped next.

Stan didn’t do either of those things, though. He kept on driving.

(Bein’ a getaway driver that many times, you got used to riding out certain things.)

"Do I gotta ask?" Stan said to his brother, hands and fingers tightening around the wheel. "--Do you _want_ me to ask?!" he repeated when his brother said _nothing_ , shoulders tense.

"...I didn’t--" Ford began, then managed to get out a half-strangled "...know that--"

Stan glanced into the rearview mirror again, and Ford was grimacing -- and not from the bruises and all the bumps, either.

"No," Ford said finally, looking away from him, refusing to meet his eyes. "Don’t ask."

...Stan turned his gaze back to the roadway he could see out in front of him, through the windshield.

"I’m not contradicting myself to the kid on you," he told his brother staunchly. "You’re my brother, you’re my family, and you’re _on_ the priority list."

"...Fine," Ford said quietly, so quietly that Stan almost didn’t even hear him. 

Stan drove.

\---

Ford blinked his eyes open slowly. He struggled upright in the backseat, back against the side door, and he looked a bit confused as he realized that Stan had pulled up to a stop someplace that wasn’t home.

"This one’s a little less crazy," Stan told him. "Was planning on stopping off here on the way back before…" he waved off the whole parking lot feud. "I figure still coming here when you can’t barely stay upright long enough to walk around and really _appreciate_ the place, is a good enough penalty for you walkin’ out on us back at the last place. ...Probably couldn’t get away with tryin’ to make you _sing_ over _that_ whole ruckus," Stan muttered out at the last. (The place had still been half a _zoo_ by the time they’d finally gotten out of there, after all that.)

Ford looked at his brother, as Stan got out of the car and slammed the door closed behind him.

(And he debated staying inside the car. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked the look of this warehouse...)

He startled slightly as Stan slapped his hand against the roof of the car twice.

"C’mon, Ford, there are books. You _like_ books, don’tcha?" was what Stan said to him next.

Ford debated this, as he winced his way further upright. (Really, if Stan had just given him a proper briefing before the last warehouse, he would’ve known he’d have to be more strategic about the textbook-retrieval right from the start...)

And, after a long moment of struggle (damn his unyielding curiosity!), Ford exited the car.

\---

"I want to live here forever," Ford stated, as he stood in the center of what was veritably a _cathedral_ of books, in the middle of a warehouse that in no way resembled a warehouse on the inside, and looked up. (And saw that they even had small vents intricately interwoven into the-- dear lord, _of course_ they had the place fully climate- and temperature-controlled. Such a detail would _not_ have gone overlooked, in such a place as this.)

"Big mood." Miz was staring up at the stacks with a thrilled expression. She was planning to Scan ALL of these! Om Nom that delicious knowledge! Tastier than emotions any day!

"You know this existed back when you were first farming out the building of that house of yours thirty miles west of here, right?" was Bill’s drawled out and laconic contribution to the discussion.

"I hate you and everything you stand for," was Ford’s almost-automatic reply, to which Bill just rolled his eyes, threw his hands up, and walked away.

"Uh, Ford…" Stan began, not really sure how to take that one. The kid had been being a little punk there about things, sure… but that had been a little… _knee-jerk_ there from Ford, a little _too_ much more than Stan had expected, and Ford...

"There are so many books…!" was what Ford blurted out next, and Stan was starting to get worried, ‘cause how was he supposed to know if Ford's reaction here was from a book-overload, or from a concussion, if he started to outright drool or somethin’ instead? To add to his worry, Miz was attempting to climb a stack, reaching for a book about the history of agriculture.

"--Rolling ladders, over there!" Stan barked out at her, pointing at the nearest ladder, three aisles down. Miz looked back at him before running off to get a ladder instead.

Stan got in front of his brother and snapped his fingers in front of his face a few times.

"I…" Ford trailed off, blinked, winced away from him at the third snap, and managed to capture his hand at the fourth. Then he blinked and seemed to get his bearings… kinda. "Stan, how did you even _find_ this place?" Ford asked him. (Because there had been no road markings, no identifiable features, not even a _sign_. Even the parking lot had looked… But then, if the clientele were anything like him, they’d drive an old jalopy just to use the money-savings on more books, Ford gathered.)

"Couldn’t find half the stuff I needed in the town library," Stan told him, straightening back up. "Your textbooks have got _entire textbooks_ for references; you know that?" Stan complained at him.

Ford frowned over at him slightly in confusion (and yeah, Stan was blaming the probably-maybe- _almost_ -a-concussion on that one), as Miz headed back over, having captured one of the ladders (after a polite back-and-forth of, ‘oh you’ - ‘no you’, from somebody else who had actually gotten there first).

"I thought you hated ladders?" Miz asked quietly. That made Stan blink. What did him hating ladders have to do with _her_ not wanting to use one? (Miz had been trying to be considerate, not using a ladder because she'd thought he didn’t like even seeing them.) Geez, this kid.

I use ‘em when I need to," Stan told her. "Wouldn’t be able to do work on the roof, otherwise. Or set off fireworks with the kids." He had that ladder right in the middle of the gift shop, up to the hatch, didn't he? How did she think he’d got up there, to put up the sign? Had she thought he’d actually _paid_ somebody else to do it for him? --That kinda stuff cost money! Then Stan considered that maybe she thought he'd _climbed_ the side of the Shack for it… which… seriously, that was even more dangerous. _He_ couldn't float like the demons could...

"I want this place," Ford said next, in something of a daze, as he swayed a bit and turned in place, taking it all in. "This place is mine."

"Yeah, yeah," said Stan, getting a hand at Ford’s back and gently steering him back towards the door. He figured it was probably a bad sign, if his brother was startin’ to sound a little like _the kid_...

Miz tilted her head, as she trotted along beside them. "I could ask about who owns this place?" Could probably buy it off them, they still accept gold right?

"I know who owns the place," Stan told her. "Ain’t no big mystery."

They met Bill at the front door.

And the kid took one look at Ford and said to Stan, "Better get him out in the next thirty seconds, or he’ll get away from you. Sixty-three to the car next and locked in tight. I’ll handle the seatbelt."

...Well, the kid was right about the thirty seconds. Ford seemed to wake up a bit at realizing he’d just been tricked into getting dragged out of this huge nerdy book nirvana, but the sunlight temporarily blinded him to send him blinking long enough that Stan actually got him the six more steps over that he needed to get him from the door to the car. (Yeah, _of course_ he’d used his _totally_ legally-obtained handicapped hang-tag thing in his car for that -- and hey, his _brother_ sure needed it right now, okay?)

"One minute!" Miz called out, "I’ll be right back!" And she rushed back inside before the door closed behind her.

Stan turned to Bill. "Kid, go get your sister, yeah?"

Bill sighed as Stanley manhandled that Stanford back into the car. He didn't even bother trying to help with the seatbelt after what Stanley had just said; Stanley wasn't listening to him again. So he just turned around and walked back inside, and it didn’t take him long to find Miz, standing on a ladder, with her head tilted up as her eyes Flickered near-constantly.

"How long do you need?" Bill asked her, trying to confirm whether 'one minute!' was actually _one minute_. Because if it was... "Is distance a problem?"

Miz mumbled various info for a few seconds before she blinked and smiled down at him. "It’s easier to See when I’m closer. Less effort. I should be done in a minute." She turned back up and Flickered some more.

Bill sighed and leaned up against the ladder. They were definitely going to miss the deadline then, but this WAS what Stanley had asked for. And he suspected the time it would take him to convince Miz to leave would take longer than this 'minute' of hers would. So he waited.

Miz didn’t take long -- really only about a minute -- before climbing back down and shaking her head. "If Ford asks, I can recreate any of these books for him," she informed him.

"Don’t ask, don’t tell," said Bill, straightening up and walking towards the exit with her. "He’ll be asking you -- or me -- to do that with every book that’s ever existed for him, forever, if you do that."

"You know I made a huge library maze back home? It’s filled with a bunch of the knowledge I’ve accumulated over the years." Miz grinned, skipping merrily.

"Don’t tell my Stanford that, either," Bill informed her dryly. "He’d want to go there, too."

Miz giggled. "It’s a ‘challenge’. The place is filled with traps. I got a TV show made of people attempting to find stuff in there. Makes good revenue and entertains people."

Bill looked over at her. "You realize that he’d want to go, just to try and _break_ the place, to steal every last book to ‘set them free’ for everyone who couldn’t last long enough to really compete and find what they wanted," Bill told her.

Miz shrugged. "Well, I’ve put up a Curse that teleports people out before they get killed, but they’re not allowed to compete a second time." Which didn’t prevent injuries, just outright deaths. She was still tweaking the settings on that particular Curse to heal the participants of any wounds as well.

"Getting kicked out of libraries and banned from the premises before he’s done looking for things is also a ‘pet peeve’ of his," Bill added, as he held the door back to the outside open for her.

Miz rolled her eyes. "I’m tempted to build a library here, or donate ‘books’ to the Gravity Falls library, would that be considered a practical thing to do?" Would that be considered ‘good’?

"Ask Stanley?" Bill said as they both walked out, then glanced over at the car and added, " _Maybe_ after he gets that Stanford to release him from that headlock he’s got him in."

"Oops," said Miz -- the cause for the sixty-three-seconds-later deadline having been made impossible to meet. Bill sighed out (in annoyance), and the two demons went over to give Stan some back-up assistance.

Ford was growling out, "I will **not **be shown that many books, only to have you take them all away! You _can **not**_ do that to me!!"****

********

********

"Oh yes I can!" Stan said, trying an elbow to the gut next. "--And you can get them back later!" Stan told him quickly next, once he’d found out that _that_ hadn’t worked, either. At the tightening pressure, Stan yelped out, "We’ll come back later! Ford! The, uh, _the place is closed!_ " Stan cried out, lying his ass off.

"Oh," Ford said, letting go of him. "Why didn’t you just say so?"

"...Didn’t want to cause a scene," Stan muttered at his lunatic brother, as he rubbed at his neck. Because the place was _actually_ open 24-7. Good thing they didn’t have any signs on the outside doors... "Now get in the damn car."

"But we _are_ coming back here later," Ford said next.

"Yeah," Stan said, only to have his brother lifting him by his shirt lapels and setting him back on his feet again, to _then_ find himself nose-to-nose with him, said brother demanding, " _ **Tomorrow**_."

Stan stared into his brother’s angry face, and it occurred to him, finally, that his oh-(not)-so-(very)-saintly brother had gone toe-to-toe with _thirteen grandmas_ on that last parking lot and only come out of it with a couple of _aches and pains_ and a single bump on the noggin where somebody had gotten him in the back of the head where he couldn't see them -- no black eyes, no cuts or bruises, **no** broken bones, or anything else of the sort that he could see, now that Stan was staring at him from only inches away, perfectly upright and mad and angrily-aggressively healthy. _And_ he'd gotten that book back at the end.

"Yup," said Stan. "Tomorrow. Definitely gonna do that. Uh huh." (...And he was totally gonna die tomorrow, when his brother actually asked someone about the visiting hours and days, the next time that they were here.)

Ford let go of him, and got into the Stanleymobile on his own, retrieving the ice compress from the car floor along the way.

_’Yup. That had totally been a great idea, there; good job, Stanley,’_ Stan thought to himself, as he got himself back into the Stanleymobile, and Ford got in behind him. The demons got themselves airborne, Stan pulled his car out of the parking lot, trailer pulled about smoothly around behind him...

...and then Stan realized something partway through the drive back -- he had _blackmail material_ here. Because Ford hadn’t been looking at the scenery on the way there. And his brother had fallen asleep not two minutes into the drive on the way back home from there.

_Ford had no idea where the place was._ And it was totally his brother’s own fault.

Stan grinned.

And from outside the car, Miz blinked at the maniacal laughter suddenly emanating from within it. She turned her head towards Bill and blinked. "Is that usual behavior?" she asked.

"Sometimes!" Bill told her with a grin, then leaned in a little as he confided in her: "They _really_ should do it more often."

\---

Miz seemed to be settling down, less unsure now as she helped Stan unload the car (along with Bill and Soos, who had heard about the ‘electric coolers’ from a text from Mabel, and had come over to help resituate _them_ somewhere both useful and easy for them to get to). Stan noted that she seemed relieved to be doing something to ‘help’. He debated confronting her about what the heck her problem was, but decided not to press it for the moment. Miz had been on good behavior today, hadn’t snapped at Ford like she usually did, and seemed to have actually talked with the kid about what things were and weren’t okay to talk about.

Stan sighed. At least she was trying, now that she knew. He kinda wished Miz would have wised up on her own, but he was starting to get the idea that she couldn’t pick up on this sort of thing on her own -- some things she got, but other stuff went right over her head. ...Just like with the kid.

Stan watched idly as Miz pulled a large book out from seemingly nowhere and placed it on the hood of the car before darting away. He sighed. The heck was she doing? "Miz," he said, picking up the book and leaving Ford in the backseat of the car still for a moment. "You forgot your book!" He sighed as she stopped at the door to look back at him, and then disappeared inside the house even faster. ...Great. The heck was _that_ all about?

Stan sighed, looking down at the book. Some nerdy-looking thing about light…? Figured. Buncha nerds. He shoved it under an arm, and knocked on the rear passenger’s side door window.

...Ford slowly sat up.

"......I don’t think that coffee this morning was the not-decaf," Ford complained, as he managed to drag himself up out of the motor vehicle. "I think that coffee was the decaf."

"Wouldn’t be surprised," Stan told his brother, slapping him on the shoulder. Ford glanced at him, and then his eyesight caught on the book Stan was holding under his arm.

"That’s…" Ford reached for it, and managed to grab and yank it loose before Stan could tell him that-- "I was looking at this one earlier…" That had Stan stiffening in place. Stan glanced down at the nerd book Ford was holding, and then let out a sigh, slumping his shoulders and rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. This was like the gold necklace all over again.

"You takin’ gifts from demons now?" was what Stan said to his brother, and that had Ford stiffening in place. "Miz left it. Give it here."

Ford looked _incredibly_ reluctant, but then he got a determined look to his face after a moment, and he did slap the book back into Stan's chest for him to take.

"We _are_ going back tomorrow to return what she stole, though," Ford said, as Stan took the book from him, and they both headed for the house. Stan sighed.

"Sure, Ford. Can't have her stealin’ stuff for no good reason." He wasn’t gonna get in an argument with his brother on this right now, and he hadn’t seen where she’d gotten it from. She could create stuff, sure; but she’d also been in that warehouse at the end there long enough that she could've just grabbed it instead, and Stan didn’t know which she'd gone with. And the place _wasn’t_ a _lending_ library...

Though Stan was hoping Miz didn’t steal it. Stan had told the demons that stealing hadn’t been worth the heat in the other dimension. And it wouldn't have been worth the heat from that place, either. She _should_ know that, and she should know that what he'd said applied to both pick-pocketing and general stealing…

...but if she’d looked him up, she’d have seen him stealing a _lot_ of stuff in _this_ dimension lots of times before. And she didn’t always get things unless they were completely explained out to her, just like the kid. ...Whatever. If she _had_ stolen it, they could just sneakily shove it back onto a shelf the next time they were there.

The two older Pines walked inside to see that the younger set of twins had returned. Miz was sitting among a pile of books, showing them off to Dipper. "This one’s a complete history, as far as the author knew, on the discovery and study of the tomb of Pharaoh Hsekiu…" Dipper looked torn between really wanting that book, and looking at all the other books around her. As they all stared, Miz wiggled her fingers, causing her high tech body suit to light up and some lint and dust along the ground swirled together to form another book. "This one’s a biography of Alexander Hamilton, the founding father who most embodied the hip-hop lifestyle…"

Dipper made a face at that. "I’m not sure hip hop was a thing back then…"

"Shows how much _you_ know! Hah!" Miz teased cheerfully. Dipper rolled his eyes.

"Should you even be using your suit for things like this?" Dipper gestured to the books.

Miz shrugged. "I’ve been storing up a bunch of energy throughout the day, absorbing the ambient energy in the air after some filtering, and using a template makes it much easier." She paused before adding, "And it cleans out all the lint, dirt l, and grime around here by turning it into something _useful_ ," which was a big part of why she was doing it. This place was _filthy_!

Stan raised his eyebrows at this, then looked over at Bill, who was standing off to the side, leaning up against the wall. The kid had his arms crossed, and he looked annoyed. Kid wasn't looking at any of them; not even his sister.

"Kid?" Stan asked. "What's wrong."

"Tch," said the kid.

"He's being perfectly selfish and unhelpful, is what is wrong," Ford said, sending along look at the kid. "Knowledge should be shared."

"-- _I'm NOT your personal library!!_ " Bill snapped out, pulling his arms in more tightly around his chest, and… Stan saw his brother straighten up suddenly, looking absolutely shocked. Like something had just occurred to him--

Bill quite literally bristled in place.

"Somebody explain to me what is going on. Kid? Ford?" But Ford was staring holes in the kid, and the kid was hunching his shoulders; he _looked_ like he wanted to go upstairs, but...

Stan glanced down at Miz, who was sitting on the floor of the living room. ...Kid wasn't gonna leave his little sister behind. Which meant, the kid probably felt...

"Kid, I can watch your little sister for--"

"-- _No_ ," the kid said, turning his head away from him even further. Kid was fuming about this, and downright fidgeting and twitching in place.

And Stan startled slightly when Ford suddenly strode forward to come to a stop, standing right in front of Bill.

"Ford…" Stan began, starting to walk over quickly.

"--I don't want anything you can give me," Ford told the demon, straight to his face, and the demon stilled. "I don't trust you, I don't trust anything that you might give me," Ford continued, hands on his hips as he stared Bill down, "And if you tried to hand me a book, I wouldn’t trust the contents of it one bit. -- _You hear me_ , Bill?"

Stan clenched his jaw and nearly let out a curse as he came to a stop next to his brother's shoulder, because his brother had just-- and--

Bill let out a laugh.

...It sounded a little hysterical.

The kid was smiling, but...

"Of course, _of course_ **you** wouldn't!" the kid chortled out, but his body was twisted away from Ford slightly and the smile the kid had going was… off. Kind of… ~~_wrong_ somehow.~~ " _Of course_ you wouldn't, you don't like ANYTHING if it comes from me, if _**I**_ try to give it to you!"

To this, Ford just nodded once, turned on his heel, and walked away, headed in the direction of his bedroom. (Son of a…)

Stan took a step forward, patting the kid on the head once in passing (the kid was shivering a bit), and as he handed the book Miz had left at the car over to the kid, he told the kid, "Stay here."

Stan walked off after Ford.

\---

"--The hell was that?" Stan demanded out of Ford, after he slammed his way into his brother’s bedroom.

"Aren't you supposed to ask permission…?" Ford said blandly, as he sat down on his bed, and began to take his boots off.

Stan glared at him. "You tellin’ me that--"

"No," Ford sighed, looking away with a grimace. "You know you have 'blanket permission’ to--"

"--Damnit, Ford!" Stan shoved the door shut, and stomped his way over, to stand in front of him and glower down at him. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Stan, I am tired--" Ford began, and his head was aching besides...

"--You just lied to the kid’s face, Ford," Stan ground out at him under his breath. "What the hell would've happened if he’d realized you didn't mean it?!"

Ford looked up at his brother.

"I know you'd say yes to books," Stan said firmly.

"Not like that," Ford said quietly. "Not from him."

That just pissed Stan off even more. "Don't lie to me, Ford." Ford looked away from him. "You tell me why you lied to the kid. Right now. So I can do _damage control_ when--"

"--You don't know why he reacted the way that he did to you saying you wanted him, do you," Ford said quietly, and Stan stopped talking. "You haven't really figured it out yet."

Stan frowned down at him. "'Course I do. He wants--"

"--to be wanted, yes Stan," and when Ford looked up at him, he did look tired. And his fingers were curled into the bedsheets now. "But you really don't get it, do you. What Bill thinks he heard. You don't understand the difference."

"What difference?" Stan snapped out at him. He wasn't stupid. The kid--

"He wants to be wanted for him, not wanted for what he can do," Ford said. "It took me awhile, but I think--" with the way Bill seemed to define himself--

"-- _I know that_ , Ford, I'm not an idiot," Stan ground out at him. "Why do you think I ain't askin’ him for a bunch of stuff."

And at those words, Ford couldn't quite look at his brother just then. The 'popular’ one. The one who everybody had wanted to be around, because he had 'personality’; because he wasn't a freak. ...The one who thought he could _do_ something to be part of a loving family again, that he'd had options open to him; that it was something he could get, if only he _did_ the right things, earned enough money, got enough respect...

(Ford had learned better over the years, that that wasn't really how things worked. Not for everyone. You couldn't just _try harder_ and have whatever you wanted all work out for you, somehow. The world just didn't work that way; _no_ world did. ~~He couldn't even get a girl to _talk_ to him willingly and _like_ it, to like _him_ \--~~)

~~(Not to mention the _very_ large problem that, the _only_ reason that Stan had said what he had said to Bill, was seemingly because Stan had thought that it would make Bill less likely to hurt the niblings. He'd told Bill that he wanted _him_ , but what Stan _really_ wanted was for Bill to _not do_ something for him: to not mess with his family. He'd wanted something that Bill could _do_ \-- to refrain from open violence -- not Bill himself. That much was clear from his earlier discussions with Stan. --Stan had lied to Bill, blatantly and horribly. And when Bill realized that Stan had lied to him about this -- and he would eventually...)~~

It was far easier for Ford to move on to the greater issue at hand, than to attempt to address the complex issue of separating one's self from one's ability with his brother. So he did.

"Stanley, he never even offered me the _possibility_ of copies of other books from _this_ dimension," Ford said, "Let alone other dimensions. He could have shown them to me in the Mindscape; I would have retained the information upon waking. But he didn't. Not once. Not _ever_."

"So?" Stan asked him. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Stan, his whole 'deal’ is that he _knows things_ ," Ford reminded him tiredly. "There was a time," Ford told him quietly, "When, if Bill had handed me an instruction book," Ford couldn't quite help but wince at his previous naivete, "Perhaps ‘Turning A Crashed Spaceship Into An Interdimensional Portal for Smart-Alecks and Dummies’? --That I would have read it cover-to-cover, and blindly followed every last step." He looked up at his brother and asked, simply, "Why didn't Bill do that?"

Stan looked down at him.

"I don't doubt he must have thought of it at some point," Ford said slowly. "And it would have worked. I would have done exactly as he'd intended, maybe even without needing to call Fiddleford up to Gravity Falls to help me," he told his brother. "So why didn't he just ask me if I might want something like that? Why didn't he offer it to me?" Ford smiled sadly up at his brother. "Because he didn't trust me? ...You said it yourself, Stan," Ford said, looking away from his brother again. "You think that Bill _wants_ something from us all. _So what does he want from us,_ " Ford ended bitterly.

"He won't do absolutely anything to get it," Stan said. Probably tied back to what the kid was thinking he needed to do to get his dead brother back somehow; kid had been secretive as hell about him, that 'Liam’ of his. For some reason, it _also_ had the kid getting all roundabout in his methods of getting them to do what he wanted -- instead of outright asking or telling them to do it -- for nearly every damn thing that he did. Stan would bet his last dollar on that. (And as far as Stan was concerned, getting the kid to actually tell him what he wanted _sometimes_ was a hell of a lot of progress and a half right there, already.)

"No," Ford agreed. "But if there are things that he _won't_ do, then what are they, exactly, and _why not?_ "

And it was clear to see, when Ford looked up at him again, that Stan didn’t have the answer to that one. (Not yet.)

"It was making him agitated," Ford said. "The idea of just _handing_ us things." Ford smiled up at him again, grimly. "I told you I was going to try to do what I normally wouldn't do sometimes, from now on, didn't I? And what I said to him did seem to calm him down somewhat. Yes?"

Stan stared at him.

And then Stan let out a huff. "Heh. Guess so." Then Stan frowned. "Miz seems to like givin’ us stuff though," Stan added a bit more soberly. "Look, if… there’s something going on with the kid and the whole giving us stuff thing, I’ll figure it out. Maybe ask Miz why _she_ has no trouble with doin’ it, to start with, while the kid's hanging around within earshot. See if that gets the kid talking."

"If you think that wise," Ford told him with a grimace. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I could use some additional sleep, Stan. --Uninterrupted, preferably." He'd been in an out-and-out fight earlier that morning, and he'd suffered a head injury. Contrary to what his brother might think, he _did_ try to take what downtime he could to recover, after any harrowing experience he had, when he could, and his head _was_ beginning to pound. "And you should get back to the niblings." Capable as they were, Ford could hardly expect Dipper and Mabel to handle Bill Cipher in physical form on their own for more than a few minutes without issue. And while Bill seemed to be following Stan’s entirely made-up rules of bedrooms being ‘safe zones’ _so far_ , ones that Bill would not even enter without permission, in fact… that _clearly_ didn’t extend to the shared common rooms downstairs, such as the kitchen, living room, or dining areas. (And how long would _that_ particular ‘game’ of Bill’s last, anyway? Another week? A day at most? Until the first time that the niblings dared slam the door in his face? Certainly not so long as Stan thought--)

"Yeah, fine," Stan grumbled out. "Just, hell, maybe give me a little warning next time? Maybe some kinda signal, when you're plannin’ to go crashing across lanes?" Because for a second there, he'd thought his brother had walked over to the kid to go off and punch him in the face. And then with the _lying_ to the kid's face...

Ford couldn’t help but let out a small smile as Stan headed for the door. "I will endeavor to do my best to come up with something that Bill Cipher will not be able to decipher," he told him.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Stan snorted out.

Stan closed the door behind him, and Ford turned in place, pulling his legs up, to lie down flat on his bed, despite the aching pressure it put on the back of his head.

He started up at the ceiling for a few minutes.

And, eventually, he closed his eyes.

\---

Stan returned to the living room and stared at the towers of books that now inhabited it. "...MIZ!" Stan ground out. (To which he heard a "Here!" So at least she was still in the room someplace, here.) "The heck?!" What was she tryin’ to do, here? "I can’t get to the TV!" he complained. That was only maybe half of the problem here, though.

He heard a shuffling sound from inside the stacks and a muffled voice call back, "Should I donate these to the Gravity Falls public library?"

Stan pulled in a breath and opened his mouth to say--

\--but then he stopped and frowned. His first instinct was to tell her to get it all outta the Shack right now, but… hell, he was smarter than that. She had done this for a reason, and her _brother_ over there **hadn’t** stopped her for _another_ reason, he bet. (Which meant…)

"...Donate them to the library?" Stan called back. He was starting to get a picture of what was going on here, now. Crazy dragon-lady. Going at things sideways, trying to get her way all 'sneaky' all over again. She was even more sideways than her brother about all this junk. Seriously. "What the heck are all these things, anyway -- yeah, _books_ , I know -- but _what_ are they and where the hell did you get them from?" And he didn’t just mean ‘how did you make them,’ wasn't like he hadn't seen that one, too, when they'd walked in earlier. His frown deepened as there were some more shuffling sounds and a thump, and then Mabel’s voice squealed out, "There’s a book about advanced knitting patterns!!!"

Stan’s eyes narrowed. ...Oh, he knew what he was doing here, now.

"I scanned and copy-pasted the books I thought were interesting!" Miz shuffled around inside the stacks.

"...From the book warehouse we just visited?" Stan asked slowly to confirm, trying to locate where they all were from their voices, as he edged his way into the room just slightly. (He saw the kid still standing right where he had been before, up against the wall, looking edgy still, and almost frowning at the whole mess in front of him that his sister had made.)

"....yes?" Miz called out next, almost tentatively. "Though a few are from other books I’ve Seen over the years, that aren’t already in the Gravity Falls library…"

Bill twitched and looked annoyed at... his sister’s antics. Uh huh.

...Seen over the years. Right. All several hundred _billion_ of ‘em and counting. "--Kid, I want this stuff shoved off to the sides, without _somebody_ getting buried. Anybody. You think you can do that for me?" Stan asked, knowing about what had happened in that classroom before, and Bill made a back-and-forth sweeping gesture with both hands.

...Well, that was a mess. Kinda. Piles were still everywhere and a half, but at least he could walk through the living room to any doorway now. And see the TV and his chair. And the kids and the dragon-lady, sitting on the floor, unharmed by any of the shoved-around books...

Stan shuffled into the center of the room, looking around at it all. Mess was still a mess, but the books didn’t look damaged, at least. Some of the stacks still looked about ready to fall over, but… He bent over and picked one of the books up off the top of the nearest low stack, straightened, and started paging through it almost absently. He strolled over to his armchair and leaned up against it. "So, you want to donate these to the library, huh?" Stan asked, still paging through the book he was holding. And when he saw… (Hm. _That_ wasn’t…)

"Yeah, would that be alright?" Miz asked as she looked around at the stacks.

"Aren’t ya not allowed to give away stuff for free, though?" Stan asked, glancing up to side-eye her over the book.

Miz hummed as she thought about how to explain it. "I can give stuff if it’s because _I_ want to give stuff because I _want_ other people to do something, like learning, and not because someone else wants or needs something from me. Knowledge is different from other things I can give away." Miz told him, "Knowledge is part of my Pillar. I like teaching people. And I _can_ get away with giving knowledge without demanding anything back, so long as I’m feeling okay. Balanced." Miz frowned. "It’s a little hard to explain."

"You wanted to be a teacher, right?" Mabel was flipping through the knitting book, which apparently she’d grabbed earlier before the kid’s book-‘fling’. Stan glanced over at the kids.

"So you _can_ give away books for free?" Stan asked almost leadingly.

Miz tilted her head to the side and thought about how to put it. "I’m not _giving_ them to anyone in particular. I’m simply _dropping_ them off. And I can teach people stuff for free under certain circumstances. Like inspiration inside their dreams."

Stan frowned immediately, almost a glower. "... _Inspiring_ ‘em?"

Miz immediately waved her hands. "W-well I’m nowhere near brother’s level in that sense." Stan sent the kid a look next when said demon-kid let out a "HA! --You’re still young, you have time! I’ll teach you!" to Stan’s disapproving glare.

Miz fidgeted in place. "I don’t want to make people end up obsessed in such a bad way. I just give them the help they need to get past their mental blocks. I… I like helping people achieve what they can, support them to be able to do more and grow and--" she stopped as Bill walked over to pat-pet her on the head. And Bill was looking a bit more relaxed than before as he said, "You’re a Muse, too. It’s what you do."

Stan frowned at the kid. "What exactly does that..." _mean._ He stopped himself. Bill had mentioned that once before, after Miz had wanted to give college pamphlets to some girl at the high school in that other dimension. Something about wanting to help people live up to their potential, or whatever. --Nope. No. And nope. He wasn’t letting himself get sidetracked here.

So Stan stopped himself right there, and went for the thing he needed to say instead, before he started really getting this whole thing back on track again. "Yeah. Sure. That thing. 'Helping' people. --Like that one teacher you talked to at school, where you didn’t realize you’d ‘inspired’ then too much until you saw what happened with that science teacher?" he said almost darkly and leadingly, then (at Miz’s wince) followed it up with, "How do you know you haven’t inspired anybody _else_ and their dog into a really bad place before this?" to really drive the point home. (Because the kid had sure messed that one up a lot of times himself, if what Stan had got outta Ford was what he’d thought it was, along with the kid himself.)

(The kids were glancing between them now.)

"I guess I wouldn’t know unless I go and check on the people I’ve worked with… but they seemed fine, they weren’t neglecting their personal lives to go around pursuing their interests..." she thought about it. "Maybe it’s just a human thing?"

Stan couldn’t really say anything more than a flat, "Uh huh..." while keeping a level stare on Miz as she got more and more guilty-looking, as the seconds ticked by...

Finally, she puffed out her cheeks with a petulant, "It’s not like I _knew_ that was going to be a problem I had to look out for!"

"Well, now ya know," Stan told her evenly.

Miz pouted. "Well just giving books to people shouldn’t cause such a problem, right?" (Stan eyed her over that one.) She looked away, over to the stacks around her. She pulled one out to place at Stan’s feet, one that looked really familiar after finding it outside at the car and carting it around for a minute. "This one’s for Ford, he wanted it. But if he doesn’t want it, you can just donate it with the others that Mabel or Dipper don’t want to keep. Or Soos. I should ask if he wants any…"

...Oh, he had her now. "You can give stuff to Soos and the kids?" Stan asked.

Miz shrugged. "I like Soos and Mabel. Besides, I want to chat with Soos about the newest season of That Hero University…" Stan rolled his eyes. Right. That _anime_ thing.

Time for the kicker. "Well, I ain’t so sure about all this stuff, yet," Stan told her, looking around at it all. "Don't even know what-all it is." He let the ‘for Ford’ one sit for now; she should’ve known his brother wouldn’t take it from her from how he’d reacted to the kid just then, but Stan wasn’t gonna get into that right now. He looked down at the book he was holding. "--And hey, you can give stuff to, what, everybody but me?" He looked over at her and said almost jokingly next: "Really feelin’ the love here, Miz."

Miz thought about it before shrugging. "Any book you want, you can get yourself. And you’re not too into reading."

"Hey, I read," Stan objected. He just hadn't had a lot of time for it, lately. Not 'for func,.or whatever. Not before he'd, well… Whatever. Anyway. "What if I want all of ‘em?" Stan told her, weighing the book in his hand.

"All books in general, or just the ones here?" Miz asked for clarification.

Stan raised his eyebrows at her. "‘Just’ the ones in here, that you made here, and all."

"Well they’re not mine, and I don’t need the physical copies, so if you did want them, you’d just be taking the things I’m discarding." Miz had a wry smile on, having messed around with her parameters for ages to find all sorts of loopholes for being able to give free stuff to people. And in her opinion? This was one of the best ones!

Stan’s eyes glinted. _Gotcha._

" _Good_ ," Stan said, and he slapped the book he was holding shut one-handed, and turned to the niblings and demon-kids both. "I’m claiming all of these books. _All of these books are mine_ ," he intoned out, and he watched the kid straighten up ever so slightly, eyes going a little sharp.

And then, after no protest from Miz or the demon-kid, and while the kids were still blinking up at him in something like shock, Stan put on his grumpy face and said, "You two, you’re gettin’ _your_ penalty _now_."

And then he put on his Mr. Mystery grin. The money-making one.

"--Wait," Dipper said, way way too late, as he started to realize how wrong things were about to go now, but Stan just steamrolled right over him as he looked around the room.

"All of this? We’re puttin’ it up on c-Pay. _Every. Last. One._ " Stan intoned out, as he looked down at the niblings -- Dipper’s growing look of horror, and Mabel’s beginnings of confusion. "--And no, Miz, you _ain’t_ doing this thing again," he told her next. "You put your brother in a bad place, here, and we don’t got space for any of this junk," he said next, gesturing around at the piles. "And neither does the library. --Those town yokels would just take all _this_ stuff, and trash what they’ve already got, throwin’ stuff out of the shelves and out into the town square to _burn_ ‘em all, to make room for it. We ain’t doin’ that." Stan normally wouldn’t have bothered with adding that extra info at the end right there, but he’d been in town long enough to know this stuff, and he knew Miz needed explanations for things to go along with stuff.

Miz blinked slowly, processing this. "....okay?" she twitched a little. "They would just burn old books? What the heck??"

"Town ordinance," Stan said. "They treat it like _flag burning_ , or something."

"Isn’t it illegal to deface the american flag?" Miz looked even _more_ confused now.

Stan eyed her, but Dipper spoke up for him. "That’s protected free speech, and the only way to get rid of old flags. You’re supposed to burn them, not throw them away in the trash…"

"--Because throwing them away like garbage to go to a landfill is supposed to be worse!" Mabel ended for him brightly, to Dipper’s slight embarrassment. Miz seemed to accept that and nodded to show she understood.

"Why do we have to sell them all, though?" Dipper said, starting to get angry. "How is _this_ supposed to be--" _fair?!_ he wanted to demand out of his Grunkle Stan, because this was just-- just--!!

But Grunkle Stan just tossed the book he was holding onto one of the piles, and frowned down at them both.

"You two," Stan said, "Went jumping into another dimension, tryin’ to jump back in time to try and get rid of _this one_ ," he said, tossing a thumb Bill’s way. "If _he_ was dead -- or never here, whatever -- then _Miz_ wouldn’t be here to be makin’ up all’a these books for you to maybe be able to read. --No kid, no Miz, _no books_. You wanted no Bill so bad? You get to see what it’d be like if he wasn’t here," Stan groused out, turning away from them, "At least a little bit."

"That’s not fair!" Mabel rang out, sounding aggressively-defensive. (She knew how badly Dip-Dop wanted all of these books!). "It was _my_ \--"

"-- _Stop_ ," Stan thundered out, and Mabel stopped, shocked. "Don’t go coverin’ up for somebody else," Stan said slowly, as he tried not to sweat. Because whether or not Mabel was covering for Dipper, if she made it completely clear that she was going to try and do this again--

"--It’s Glasses or Sixer’s influence. Or both. I know that," Stan heard from the kid, and Stan turned towards the kid slowly, almost in shock. And then the kid said next, in neutral tones, hand still held on top of his sister’s head, "Pine Tree and Shooting Star are part of the agreement, but they are young. They _will_ make mistakes. And I didn’t have to fight them on this, this time." _Because I took precautions_ weighed heavily in the silence there, but Stan pulled in a breath (that was slightly shaky, despite everything). Because… "They didn’t _quite_ violate the mutual non-aggression agreement," Bill said next, which had the twins flinching as they finally, _finally_ realized… "‘Going back in time’ wouldn’t be enough to be considered an attack. I don’t _always_ go after people for ‘intent’ before they actually _try_ and pull off their latest idiocy." But the demon-kid didn’t exactly look happy as he said, "And I know you don’t want me to."

Yeah, that one was heard loud and clear. Stan _should’ve_ stopped them before they’d pulled this shit, behind his back and on his watch. He was the agreement-holder. He was the enforcer.

...And the kid was giving him a hell of a lot of leeway here. The kids had straight-up _said_ why they’d wanted to go back and try and ‘fix’ things between him and Ford when they'd all been in that other dimension, _right in front of the kid_. And the niblings hadn’t stopped to think _twice_ about the other consequences of that before doing it, in the face of...

...well. They had probably thought they were gonna be able to pull it all off. (Stan knew better. He planned stuff out for when things _didn’t_ work out for him, too.)

(And apparently, so did the kid. Setttin’ stuff up like that, to ‘bounce’ people tryin’ to mess with the timeline or whatever, any more than anybody already had…)

Stan had been expecting a fight outta the kid on this one, or at least some kinda angry argument or four, and a hell of a lot earlier than this, to boot. He should’ve known better, thinking that maybe the kid hadn’t quite thought that… or been too distracted to... and Stan had thought it was maybe safe to try and bring it up _now_ , because when it _had_ come up the last time before this…

He’d been wondering why the kid hadn’t gone off on them all in that other dimension, but now? Now he was starting to get it, he thought. (After two good nights of sleep, and bein’ home and having a chance to breathe, and everything….)

\--Because if the kid had protested _then_ , gone all demon-y on them _then_ , while they’d all been stuck in that other dimension, with no portal in sight that they could use to get them all home again… It wasn’t just that the kids had nearly killed themselves doing it that the kid hadn't kicked up a fuss and come down on them then, Stan realized, or because what the niblings had done had been a completely-failed attempt with no chance of success from the kid’s point of view. No. It was probably because the kid had known that Ford would’ve been twelve times more tense if he'd acted out that way, as a start. Stan was pretty sure his brother had thought they’d been all straight-up trapped over there, and never getting back home again ever, and if the kid had pulled anything even as, hell, _mild_ as what he was pulling right here and now, over there then? That probably would’ve gotten him _shot_. By _Ford_. Maybe even outta _reflex_. And _then_ \--

Stan had been expecting at least an argument outta the kid on this one, at _some_ point, but he wasn’t getting one from him, even now. Instead, he was getting his own (defensive) reasoning tossed out at him, right from the start -- and that _would’ve_ been the argument Stan would’ve gone with, tossing things back at the kid, to a T.

Stan shook his head. And he said, "Yeah, I know, kid. These two are gettin’ babysitted or watched for _at least_ the next week or so, from here on out. I figured letting these two hit the mansion this morning would get that time-tape thing outta the way and away from Ford, and let ‘em tell Old Man McGucket how really _not_ workable that garbage-idea of his was. Puttin’ the kids in your way back then like that." Hell, Stan wasn’t above putting the blame on somebody else. And hell, he wasn’t even sure if it wasn’t all that true. He was pretty sure that McGucket was one of the only people, if not _the_ only person, who could’ve made some time-travel doohicky actually work, besides Ford. And Ford had better sense. Which meant Old Man McGucket had been _enabling_ the kids to pull this shit. ...Which meant he’d known _exactly_ what he was doing when he’d done it.

"...Grunkle Stan," Mabel said slowly, looking between them all. She was clutching that knitting book to her chest now like it was some kinda stuffed animal, or her pet pig.

"Kid’s goin’ easy on you here, and you two know it; he ain’t even kicking up a fuss," Stan said. "But I’m the agreement-holder here, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna let this one slide. --You two are _not_ pulling this junk on anybody _ever again_ ," Stan intoned out roughly. "Losing all _this_ is penalty number **one** ," he said, gesturing around at the mess of books. "Penalty two is you two getting babysat, _maybe_ for the rest of the summer," Stan told them. "--You ain’t leaving the Shack _at all_ for the next week," he informed them gruffly, "And you ain’t going unsupervised by me, Soos, or Melody for the next two weeks, _minimum_ ," he said. "And _the kid_ ’s in the ‘supervision’ rotation starting week _two_ ," once he was sure that the kid actually knew what ‘babysitting’ really meant for these two.

Dipper looked downright horrified by this turn of events. Mabel was starting to look more and more worried.

The kid eyed him at that. (Well, the kid was taking Mabel out to the spaceship for those science lessons sometimes. Stan wasn’t gonna let the kid do that, take her off all alone anyplace, when he might still be fuming internally about all of this shit; Stan knew better. Kid had a temper, and his limits. Stan _wasn’t_ gonna test them -- not that far, not by a longshot -- and he sure wasn’t gonna let the kid test them himself, either. Not anytime soon. Not if he could help it.)

"Far as I’m concerned," Stan continued, "You two can spend the whole time around Ford," he said next, to see Mabel start to relax, and Dipper start to look suspicious, "But me or Soos or Melody are still gonna have to be in there with you." He wasn’t so sure he could trust the three of them together on their own, kinda. Ford could help them get around _whatever_ real easy, Stan bet. And the kid wouldn’t think Ford was ‘babysitting’ material, being farther down the priority list than the _twins_ right now. (Yeah, Stan already saw _that_ one coming a mile away…)

"....I think house arrest is a bit much," Miz spoke up. "How about, they can’t leave the Shack unless you or another supervisor is with them?" Everyone turned to stare at her. Miz fidgeted in place. "Back when I was a triangle, the Circles placed guards around my house so I wouldn’t be able to run off and see my brother, or my family. I had to sneak out…"

"They can still see people," Stan told her. "I ain’t keeping anybody from coming here to see them if they want to," though the kid being here should probably cut down on some of that, "And I ain’t keeping them from using the internet, or their phones, either," Stan told her. "And they’re only getting _grounded_ grounded for the first week, hard. --Hell, I got grounded for a whole summer for _borrowing_ something outta my old man’s pawnshop once," and lying about it, "And what these two just tried to pull... --They _ain’t_ getting off of any of this scot-free," Stan told her. "And, y’know, _maybe_ if they’re spending a bit more time around Ford," Stan told her and the kids next, "They’ll get some kinda idea of exactly _how stupid_ an idea it was to try and go back and ‘fix’ things themselves without even talkin’ to _any_ of us first, to see how _we_ felt about it," which still _really_ got his goat, even more now, "And, y’know, maybe _appreciate_ the Ford that they got, right here and right now." He looked over at them. "Because they just about **killed** _him_ with this little stunt they just pulled. --He wouldn’t have been the same him that you two know and love if you did that," Stan told them. And hell, neither would he. "It ain’t just Bill you were going off and about to try and get rid of there, either, or even yourselves. You woulda been getting rid of Ford, too." And me.

And _that_ finally got the twins looking appropriately horrified. Yeah, they better. Stan let this sink in a bit for the two of them.

"No," Dipper said, feeling terrified and sick suddenly at the thought that, when he’d been using the time-tape to try and win that prize for Wendy, that he might’ve been _killing_ his sister, Wendy, everybody that he’d rolled back time on when he'd-- over and over again-- and--! _No._ "No! That’s _not_ how it--"

"--Even with that much of a gap in the time-jump, if they’d done it in _this_ dimension instead, you would have been different, but also the same," the kid said slowly, "Still my Zodiac," the kid added, still watching Dipper. "The ‘ _morality_ ’ of time-travel is… ha… a bit _advanced_." He glanced up at Stan. "You, and they, shouldn’t worry about that."

And Stan hesitated. Because he knew that tone of voice outta the kid by now.

"...What _should_ we be worried about," Stan said slowly next.

And the kid smiled.

"Don’t worry," the kid said casually, eyes glinting. "I fixed it."

Stan tensed. "Fixed _what_ ," he ground out. Was this the thing the kid been taunting Ford about ‘losing him’ over, and junk, finally rearing its ugly head?

The kid looked down at his fingers, under the fingernails of his one hand. " _Well_ ," the kid began, "Pine Tree and Shooting Star _did_ ‘force’ the Axolotl to create a dimension, just for them." He looked up at Stan. "Do you know what happens when the Axolotl has to do that?"

"...What happens," Dipper said slowly, looking about as tense as Stan felt just then, and Mabel didn’t look any better.

Bill’s smile widened slightly.

"...Have you ever wondered _why_ there aren’t any other demon summonings that work in this dimension?" Bill said, then added, almost as if savoring the word, "... _Anymore?_ "

It took Stan a moment.

"-- _Kid_ ," Stan began, feeling alarmed as all get out at what might happen to those other younger them’s next -- let alone anybody _else_ over there -- but he stopped when the kid’s smile thinned out, and the kid shook his head at him slightly.

"I handled it on the way out," Bill Cipher told all of his Zodiac present.

"Handled what," Dipper said flatly, looking more and more tense as he wrapped his arms around his sides, and his sister clutched the book she was holding even tighter to her chest.

And the demon-kid looked down at Dipper and blinked.

"Securing your ownership," the demon said, "And locking out any other demons in existence from being able to travel to that dimension anymore, among other things." He glanced up at Stan again. "No others jumped in before I did so. It’s ‘clean’ and ‘pristine’ as can be!"

"That other dimension is yours now," Miz piped up, sitting down and regarding the twins calmly. Hm, the way the Ax here did things was very different from home. Back home, if Ax made a new dimension, he needed both her and Time Baby to help out too. And no one really claimed it, but they could ‘claim’ it, by telling the other two they wanted that dimension and the other two agreeing to it.

"...Kid," Stan said slowly. "I’m gonna need a little more explanation than that. Like a little bit of how. And _why_."

"Was that really _necessary?_ " Dipper said, starting to sound a little freaked out. "I-- I mean-- the _ownership_ thing?!" ...Yeah, he’d caught on to the demon problem pretty quick there, huh.

And the kid… _actually explained_. (Hell. If this was what things were gonna be like from now on, with the kid being ‘his’ and everything else… Damn.)

"The stupid lizard is _lazy_ ," the demon-kid told them all. "It doesn’t spin up dimensions unless and until it has to. --So when it _‘has to’_ ," he continued, with no small exasperation, "The first _‘people’_ \-- or demons -- to visit? Own the dimension. At least until they leave it," the demon-kid told them. "Unless they claim it before they leave and secure ownership! But most beings don’t know _how_ to secure ownership," the demon-kid told them next, "And ownership can be lost just as easily between demons, too! --And that isn’t even getting into _buying_ or _selling_ them, or what you can _do_ with them--" the demon-kid said, starting to look excited as he began to warm up to the topic.

\--And Stan figured he’d better stop him there. "So, what. You took the dimension from the kids to do that?" Stan asked him. (That didn’t make sense. The kid was careful with his words, and hadn’t the kid said…?)

The demon-kid smiled widely. "No," the kid said. "I didn’t have to do that."

"Why not," Dipper said almost angrily, starting to glare. Because if he and his sister had just handed another _entire dimension_ over to Bill Cipher, one with a bunch of human people they knew in it-- Great-Uncle Ford had _talked about_ what happened when--!

But Dipper went back to feeling shocked all over again as Bill turned to him and said, "Because you’re mine." Then he turned to Grunkle Stan next and said, "I secured ownership _for_ them. _Because_ they’re mine, I can do that for them. It _isn’t_ held in my name; it’s in _theirs_. --Other demons can tell," Bill told Grunkle Stan next. "I _didn’t_ lock out Sight, or try and shield the dimension from notice. --I couldn’t do that from the start, since they did it when I wasn’t Looking, aware, _or_ prepared for it," Bill told him, looking annoyed now, "And doing that _after_ the fact would draw all _kinds_ of notice." And the way Bill was talking, it sounded like that was something… he didn’t want?

It became a little more clear _why_ when Grunkle Stan said a little more grumpily next, almost leadingly, "So your demon-friends can’t tell that you’re still alive and kicking from looking at stuff in the right place."

Bill grimaced a little at that. "That’s… not entirely accurate," Bill said. "If they knew _to_ look, they could find someone else with a similar -- but not _NEARLY_ as good-at-it -- Sight," wow, you dumb dorito, touchy about it much? "--But new dimensions popping up? That gets _noticed_ by everyone who is _anyone_ QUICKLY," Bill told him. "I locked out _other_ inbound portal-connections on our way _in_ , so that nothing will work that _I_ don’t allow or control though, being and demon alike!" Bill grinned.

Miz couldn’t help but comment, "It doesn’t work that way in my dimensional set. I’m not sure if this way or my way is better." She thought about it. "But in my dimensional set, I just tell Time Baby or Ax if I wanted to claim a dimension or planet as my own, and they agree or disagree. Ax is fine with letting me do what I want, but I have to convince Time Baby or exchange a favor for it."

Stan frowned at this, and the twins looked alarmed, but the kid cut in with, "Demons in your dimension are different than here, I believe, from what you’ve told me. --The ones _HERE_ will _jump in on_ ANYTHING new, just like THAT!" Bill snapped his fingers at head-height, "As soon as they can! And start wrecking the place just as quickly," Bill said next _without judgment_ , as he lowered his hand.

Like he was talking about the weather. _Like that wasn’t a problem._

Stan stared at him, thinking--

"...Wait," Mabel said. "If it’s _our_ dimension--" She paused for a moment, then brightened. "Could we make it so that there are bouncy castles for _everyone?_ "

"--Mabel!!" Dipper hissed out. Because that was almost as bad as the ‘death!!’ at the end of Globnar, getting _way_ too carried away about something really _horribly_ serious!

But Bill just eyed her and said, "Only if you know _how_ to do that. DO YOU know how to do that?" the dream demon said almost cheerfully. (And Dipper had to let out a breath of relief as Mabel groaned at this -- because no. No, she didn’t know how to ‘manage’ a dimension, or whatever-it-was that demons usually did to them when they ‘owned’ them. But the way Great-Uncle Ford had talked about it, it was like they almost became that dimension’s _demi-god_ or something, and Bill had better not _teach_ her how to--)

"There was a bouncy house dimension that I've been to. I can show you how it works." Miz said helpfully.

Dipper stared at her in horror and mentally sighed in relief when Stan told Miz, "No." (And felt slightly horrified all over again when Bill added, "--Not anytime soon!" with a grin, and that got a "Boo!" out of Mabel, and all Stan did to _any_ of this was to _roll his eyes at the demon_.)

"--Anything else I gotta worry about over there, besides the kids owning a dimension now, that other demons and nobody else can get into but us?" Stan asked, trying to get things back on track again. The kid paused for a moment, then shook his head ‘no’. (...Yeah, ‘cause that _pause_ there wasn’t suspicious at all.) "Good. --Dipper, Mabel, you two are getting both your penalties starting right _**now**_ ," Stan told them both, and they startled in place. "Dipper, get your laptop. You’re on cataloguing and listing duty for these things, _no reading them_. You don’t even get to _open_ them unless I say so, and I don’t say so," Stan told him with a glare, which had Dipper looking angry, but not belligerent enough that Stan was gonna get ignored on this one. "Mabel, you’re on wrapping and post-it note duty," Stan commanded out next. "Gonna get these wrapped up in _dull, brown paper_ wrapping and twine-string -- nothing fancy," Stan said, to Mabel’s pout. "You don’t get to sticker these things or glitter them up or anything, or read any of them, either," Stan noted, eyeing that knitting book that she was still holding.

Mabel let out an almost anguished cry at that. "No fair!"

"It’s a _penalty_ ," Stan said, "It ain’t supposed to be ‘fair’. Like I told the kid, it’s supposed to teach you not to do stupid stuff anymore, like what you two just got done doing!" Stan told them both, really getting freaking tired of having to say this. "--You two almost ended up killing _yourselves_ over there, maybe starving to death in the streets, y’know! This isn’t _supposed_ to be fun. --You’re making me some money, here," Stan said next, with a Mr. Mystery grin, to soften the blow somewhat by making it more-expected ‘grunkly’ behavior out of him, in their eyes. "So _get to work!_ \--Mabel, grab some big boxes from the back storeroom while you’re at it, sweetie," Stan barked out next, almost absently, as he turned to survey the piles.

Mabel turned to Miz with an almost desperate expression.

"And Miz ain’t making you lot any more books," Stan said next, glancing back at them. "You want ‘em? Talk to _Bill_ , first. _He_ gets to decide." That oughta teach ‘em, thinking that getting stuff from the other demon was really all that different from getting them from the kid himself. (Because it wasn’t. Miz was only doin’ this stuff because the kid was here, and she was just hanging around.)

Stan eyed Miz. "I ain’t so sure about all of this stuff, here, as-is," he said next, as Dipper got up, hunched shoulders, to go off and grab his laptop from upstairs.

Mabel sadly put down the knitting book and got up to go get the post-it notes and _boring_ wrapping supplies. Miz looked at the books and then up at Stan. "This too, is a learning experience," Miz concluded.

Stan snorted. "Yeah, it is." Stan glanced between them. "You really didn’t notice how out-of-torque your brother was gettin’ over there at you doin’ this stuff?" he asked her, then shook his head. "Y’know what, hold that thought. You two can talk _that_ one out later between you. --Right _now_ , what I gotta know is, is there anything about these books that might make ‘em sell for _less_ than they should?" he asked her. (Not that he didn’t know at least part of the answer to that one, since he knew how most nerds responded to library books that looked like they’d been…)

"I made some corrections for the inaccurate information."

(...yeah, he’d thought so. Those penciled-in comments had sure sounded kinda familiar. Ish. Kinda like the dragon-lady when she talked.) ...Well, _that_ wasn’t gonna fly.

"Kid, think I’m gonna have you remove that stuff," Stan floated the idea first, before asking it. Because Stan knew that leaving any weird markings or comments or highlighting or whatever in there was gonna lower the value, and he didn’t know what-all Miz might’ve put in there that might be a problem. ...He also knew that the demon-kid liked writing in other people’s books himself. Like Ford’s journal. So maybe this would be a bit of ‘practice’ pre-penalty for _not_ doing that anym--

"--I can remove them easily," Miz agreed. She didn't seem happy to have the books contain the wrong information though.

Stan sighed. Wrong ‘kid’, there, dragon-lady. "You put ‘em in, the kid can take ‘em out," Stan clarified to her. "You’re supposed to be conserving your energy, remember?" Stan said. "And I don’t want to risk ya _unbalancing_ yourself here, taking knowledge _away_ from these things.. Besides, the kid _knows_ what stuff this dimension does and doesn’t have." Books she’s seen places. He’d caught how not exact she’d been on _that_ one, there. He wasn’t about to let that one slide, when it could be a problem. _‘Portals for Dummies’_ books, and all that. "You’ve gotten confused on stuff before. --Kid? You think you can do that? Clean up the ones that’re here, and rewrite the ones that people can’t already get from a library or bookstore here someplace else right now?" Stan asked, not quite making it a challenge, to see how the kid took it (now that the kid wasn’t giving him ‘unlimited’ help, now that they were all back home, here). The kid hesitated, glancing over at his little sister, but then nodded at him. Huh.

"Okay…" Miz sighed.

"Hey, at least somebody’s gonna end up buying and reading them, instead of them just getting stuck on some shelf forever gatherin’ dust," Stan told her. No way any nerd wouldn’t read some book that they’d bought off of that website, not for the prices he’d be offering. (He knew better than to let ‘em rack up as bids. He was just gonna post ‘em as list price plus shipping, as much as it truly pained him not to do an even steeper markup of the prices. ...Eh, most of them didn’t look all that old, anyway. And Stan knew none of them would probably sell online if he didn’t do that. Online wasn’t the Mystery Shack gift shop; another cheaper copy of a book online was just one simple click on a search page away...)

"I’ll have the kids box up the books first, to carry ‘em out there to the picnic tables," Stan told the two demons. (Because as far as Stan was concerned, the Shack included the house itself, sure, but also the parking lot, the picnic tables, and the whole area out to the treeline, really.) "Kid, you maybe wanna take your little sister out there now, and explain to her _why_ you don’t think it’s such a good idea to just go around giving people books around here?" Stan said to him next. Because he knew the kid had a reason for it. (Whether or not it was whatever Ford was gonna come up with for that one, Stan wasn’t about to lay any bets on right now, though, one way or the other.)

Bill nodded and took Miz out of the room, already starting his explanation about how people reacted to things they were _given_ , versus how they thought about and ‘felt about’ and _valued_ and ‘ _better understood_ ’ the things they achieved on their own...

...which quickly escalated to the twins maybe being able to bike or Mystery-Shack-tourcart-ride their way over to that warehouse full of books _themselves_ (later, post-house-arrest) -- a little _too_ damn quickly, in Stan’s opinion, because the demon-kids got there before they’d even made it out of the house and out onto the back porch...

Stan let out a deep sigh as the door slammed shut and ran a hand across his face, already feeling tired as all get-out. Was he already gettin’ undermined here by the demon-pair?

...Well, maybe not yet. The kid hadn’t looked like he’d wanted his sister to be giving them any of those books. And if the kid thought the promise of them getting to read the stuff eventually, once they were no longer under ‘house arrest’, was gonna keep his dragon-lady sister from sneaking the two of them books under the table and _really_ undermining him (hell, _either_ of them?) there, then…

Stan looked over and around at all the multitudinous stacks of books Miz had made in the living room again (...and how the heck had she done that, exactly? there wasn’t _that_ much dust and junk around in here, was there?), before he bent down and picked up the book that Miz had told him was supposed to be ‘for Ford’ lying at his feet. It was the one book that maybe he couldn’t go off just ‘claiming’ for himself, here. ...Welp. This one he was definitely gonna have to look through himself…

...especially since there were probably a bunch of ‘corrections’ in there in pencil like the other one he’d picked up at-random before. Stan looked over the cover of it. ...Some kinda scientific study on light being both a wave and a particle, huh? Why would Ford get all excited about that? Wasn’t that just one of those ‘basic physics’ things of his…?

\----

Miz was singing again. Stan watched her sing and dance in the backyard (just outside the boundaries of the unicorn barrier) while he sat on the couch out on the back porch, watching the kids and the demon-kid as they worked, and skimming through the light-particle- _whatever_ book himself -- y’know, the one that she’d been trying to give Ford. (He didn’t really get what the big deal over this book was about. Because yeah, Ford had seemed all interested about it for some reason, but the book didn’t seem all that interesting to _him_ , and Miz hadn’t marked up any of the pages yet anyplace that he’d seen. Maybe it was just another one of those nerdbot things all over again, but Stan really didn’t get it, _why_ Ford might think...)

Stan looked up from the book again for a bit to pay a little more attention to what was going on out in the yard, taking a break from the book. He couldn’t understand the words to this particular song, though; it seemed to be in another language again, one he didn’t know. There was a glowing orb rotating around Miz that was releasing the [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHAzOjTN7og), and Mabel was bopping in place along to it as she wrapped up the books that Bill had ‘cleaned’ and Dipper had already catalogued in his laptop nearby.

And maybe the music was making things a little better for _her_ , but Mabel tried not to sigh as she looked over at her brother. Poor Dip-Dop was just the biggest grumpy-cat face that she ever did see right now, because Grunkle Stan had caught him every time he tried to sneak a peek at a book beyond the cover page where the ‘publishing year’ was written, so many times that Dip-Dop had finally just given up and stopped trying. Mabel felt kind of sorry for her brother, here. She’d only found one book that had looked interesting, but Dipper had looked like he’d wanted every single one.

But yeah, looking on the bright side over here! --The music made things a _little_ better and less-boring. It was a nice folky-song type of melody. Miz even had a little fiddle she was playing on for this one. And Bill was sitting at one of the picnic tables, watching his sister ‘play’ with (well, more _nearby_ than _with_ ) Mabel, as she worked. (Grunkle Stan, for his part, was sitting out on the back porch, holding some other book and nursing a Pitt Cola, Mr. Mystery-overseeing this whole big old mess -- boxes of books waiting for cleanup by Bill, cataloguing over by Dipper, and carting back into the house over by Mabel herself at the very end of the work line!)

Stan heard the door go, and he wasn’t too surprised to see Ford sit down beside him on the couch on the back porch, or the frowning he was doing as he looked over everything. (Not like his brother had gotten more than another two or three hours of sleep there; of course he’d still be in a pretty bad mood over everything, considering.)

Ford sighed as he sat down, his head still throbbing a bit, and he asked his brother, "Stan, what, exactly, do you have them all working on here?" Well, except for the man-eater, who seemed to be prancing about wholly-unhelpfully. And where had all these books come from?

"Figured out the penalty for the kids bouncing themselves into another dimension without us," Stan told him. He paused to take a sip of his soda before saying, "Miz made up a bunch more books while we were talking, ‘for the kids’, but they’re not gonna get to keep or read any of ‘em. We’re sellin’ them instead." Ford stared at Stan incredulously at this, as his brother took another sip of his soda before adding, "And I’m grounding them to the Shack for a week; they’re getting supervised by me or Melody or Soos for the rest of the summer. Gonna pull the kid into it on week two, once I’m sure that he actually knows what ‘babysitting’ means--"

"--Stan," Ford interrupted. "Why are you getting rid of--" no, scratch that. Ford grimaced. "Never mind. I can think of several reasons why no-one in their right mind would want to accept books from a Bill Cipher," he must have hit his head harder than he’d thought, "But _what_ are you having Bill do to those books?" Ford asked of his brother next.

"Cleanin’ them up," Stan told him. "Miz wrote a bunch of stuff in some of them when she made ‘em up, so…" he took another sip of his soda, "I’m havin’ the kid clean ‘em all up."

Ford debated whether or not he should argue with his brother about the rather dubious merits of having _Bill Cipher_ lay hands on a bunch of books, to supposedly _clean them up_ after... He mentally shook his head instead, and sat back on the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

He heard his brother shuffle around, doing _something_ beside him, and after a few moments (and a ‘clap-thud’ of a sort he recognized), he slowly slitted open his eyes to the sight of his brother holding out an unopened can of soda in front of his face.

Ford sighed and reached out, to take it from him.

"Yours," Stan said, with something of a laugh in his tone, and Ford snorted.

"I dare you to try and take it from me," Ford said almost lazily, as he popped the tab and took a swig of it. (It was almost cold. ...Hm. He really should replace that small under-couch cooler with something far more efficient… those larger ones Stan had gotten were far too large to fit out here for that purpose.) His words got him a soft laugh out of his brother, but Ford felt the smile slowly drop off of his face next. "We should take the niblings with us, the next time we visit that warehouse," he told him.

"Not this week," Stan said, taking another swig of his drink. "This week, they’re staying _right here_ where I can keep an eye on ‘em."

Ford sighed and risked a glance over at his brother. Stan truly looked serious.

"You think _grounding_ them is really going to be effective," Ford asked him next.

"Worked on us ‘round that age," Stan said, almost upending his can to get the last of the soda out of it. He sighed and lowered his can. "They’re too used to running around here, getting caught up in all sorts’a dangerous messes."

"They’re safer away from the house and the demons," Ford told him in all seriousness, but that got him a snort out of his brother.

"Yeah, _sure_ ," Stan said, tapping a finger against his soda can, before tossing it off into a nearby trash can. "Because if they were nearby the _house_ when they’d tried to pull that mess, the kid _definitely_ wouldn’t have been able to stop that."

Ford looked away at the long stare Stan was giving him now. _...Yes, Stan, I knew about that. Somewhat._ But though the niblings had discussed time travel as a potential ‘solution’ against Bill once in-passing, Ford hadn’t actually thought that they’d be able to get their hands on that ‘broken into a million pieces’ time tape that they’d read of, that must have been several entire states farther away. Nor would he have thought that Fiddleford would have been able to fix such a thing so quickly once he’d (Ford had presumed _eventually_ ) gotten his hands on every last piece of it -- except he must have, because the scant number of days that had passed between those two events had only been…

Ford let out a tired sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. ...In retrospect, he supposed he should have known better. He should have discussed the niblings idea with them fully, _before_ they’d ever thought to...

Truly, he’d thought they might try to go back to just before Weirdmageddon itself, _never_ so far back as to his and Stan’s own pasts, to try and… Truly, he still didn’t understand what, exactly, they must have been thinking. They should have come to him, first...

Ford glanced up as the music stopped, then changed key and tempo, and he frowned.

"Why must she always select the most horrible...?" the scientist muttered, because truly, the lyrics to this one were quite unpleasant -- even more so when one knew they were being sung by a 'Bill Cipher'.

Stan glanced over at him. "What’s this one about?"

Before Ford could do more than open his mouth to prepare to respond, Miz called out, "It’s about perseverance and finding what little joy we can in an unfair world."

Ford frowned. "No, it’s about singing and dancing as the world burns down around you," Ford corrected her, "All while ignoring the crying prayers of limited 'temporal' beings like humans, who just want to survive." Which was, frankly, typical of Bill himself. The only thing missing from the lyrics was a reference to insane bouts of laughter while they were doing it.

Miz rolled her eyes. "It’s poetic! A metaphor! You don’t have to take it literally. It’s about how, even when the world is going to shit, you can still find some way to be happy _despite_ it. Find a reason to continue going on instead of just despairing and..." He wasn't hearing the real message of the song at all! (Mabel pouted; she'd liked the sound of the song.)

Bill threw in his own two cents, "Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud, Sixer. This song is great!" and Miz frowned as Ford seemed to be gearing up to find some way to turn that throwaway chiding statement into a full-blown argument, just because.

Before things could escalate any further though, Stan interjected, "As long as you’re having fun and no one’s getting hurt, it’s fine. --Hey, do me a favor and cut my brother some slack, yeah? He’s probably got a hell of a headache going on. Anything with a loud beat is probably just gonna make it worse, and he’s already in a ‘grunkly’ mood ‘cause he just got done waking up." (Ford rolled his eyes at this.)

"Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?" Mabel called out, wondering what was wrong and why.

"I’m fine," Ford called out to her, trying not to wince. "I just… had an unavoidable altercation in the parking lot of the first location that Stan stopped at for errands this morning."

("Oh, is _that_ what we’re calling it now?" Stan teased him with a knowing look, and Ford blithely ignored him for his trouble.)

Miz sighed and backed down, accepting this angle from Stan. "I like the tune. Folk music is nice. Though most human folk songs and childrens’ songs tend to contain dark subject matter. I could find a softer instrumental song instead?"

"Yes, please!" Mabel spoke up. She was all for her other favorite Grunkle feeling better post-haste. Then she thought of something else, about the other thing else Miz had mentioned. "Ooh. Dark stuff. Like how Ring Around the Rosie is about the black plague?"

Miz nodded. "And Rock a Bye Baby is about an infant falling off a tree." She paused. "But that’s kind of wrong, there’s a full version of the song where the mother catches them." Miz got a far off look in her eyes. "That would be nice… why don’t more people sing the version where the baby gets saved?"

Stan saw Ford looking ready to go be a jerk again, and he jumped in smoothly with, "Right, well, we’ve already talked about how just because something is ‘human’ doesn’t make it right. So, lay off on that, ‘kay?" Stan said easily to both Ford and Miz before the situation escalated any further, _again_.

(Meanwhile, Ford was frowning at the thought of what some of the other nursery rhymes he remembered might actually mean, now that the subject had come up. Despite the historical example that Mabel had just given, this topic was not something which he had ever researched in any sort of depth…)

Miz huffed. "It’s not like I wrote these songs anyway, they were made by humans. I am simply _enjoying_ them," she said to them, referring to the folk song she had been singing that had started this latest not-quite confrontation between herself and Ford. "And most songs are metaphorical anyway. It’s not like I’m dropping some Emo songs on you guys right now."

Mabel let out a snort of laughter. "Robbie likes those songs."

Miz giggled. "Yeah, I wonder if I could show him a few that I know, he might enjoy them." She got the weirdest feeling he’d like Evanescence or Linkin Park...

Stan grunted out, "Ask him first," as he reopened his book where he’d been holding his place with his thumb, and flipped another page in said book. He really was just skimming through the thing, mostly. A lot of it was going over his head; not like that was new -- he didn’t get half the references, for one thing. It _sounded_ like a nerdy-book, though, and his brother _did_ usually seem to _really_ like the ones that seemed to read kind of like this one was to him. ...Too bad the demon had made it. Maybe he could find a different one online?

Stan flipped through the pages pretty quickly after that, confirming that there didn’t seem to be any markings inside the thing, in either pencil or pen. He sighed, and got himself up, to trudge across the porch and down onto the grass, making his way over to casually toss the book into the last box of books that the kid was going through and ‘cleaning’ before handing them off to Dipper for cataloguing, in the ever-decreasing pile. He glanced over Dipper’s shoulder at the screen of his laptop, to look at the list he’d been making.

Huh. Most of the stuff Miz had made seemed to be biographies, science stuff, history books, or instructional manuals. ...Yup, that was all definitely ‘learning stuff’; no fiction in there.

Stan glanced over at the kid as he finished up the last book -- the one he’d just added to the box -- and tossed it into Dipper’s box for him to work on. And Stan caught the look the kid was giving him, as he walked away from the table and over to his sister. ...Yeah, Stan had read some of Miz's handwritten notes in one of the other books earlier, ‘correcting’ some information that she’d thought was inaccurate. And yeah, he knew. None of the corrections had been anything outrageous; she’d marked out things like the year in which some event had happened, or the actual number of people involved in something or another that had happened, and in one instance (in the history book Stan had been glancing through before he’d given the kids their penalty), she’d circled a whole paragraph and written, 'This is all sensational propaganda and they left out half the story'. Maybe it would’ve been fine to leave it all in, but Stan wasn’t taking any chances, and he couldn't sell them for full price with that stuff in ‘em, anyway. So yeah, of course he’d had the kid fix the books to get rid of them.

...And the kid had done it for him without a complaint. He hadn’t asked anything for it, either. No negotiation. Stan hadn’t done anything much differently with how he’d asked the kid this time, from before when the kid was being ‘helpful’ and all in that other dimension, but he still got the feeling that something _was_ different this time. ...Stan just wasn’t sure _what_ was all that different yet.

The corrections had been written pretty lightly in pencil, too. Stan figure that if he’d wanted to, he probably could’ve easily erased them all himself. Stan wondered if Miz had made them like that on purpose, for if Stan decided they weren't appropriate, then snorted at the idea that she would’ve done something like that _by accident_.

Stan looked over all of the books, most of which were almost completely handled by now, and sighed. None of them had seemed to stand out; he’d told Dipper to let him know if any of them did. There were no rare books in the set; no first printings of anything older than 30 years ago. They all seemed... normal, mostly. They were all just books in English for a bunch of nerdy people to read. Stan doubted it wouldn't be a problem to sell them, once the kids finished up their parts of things and Dipper got them all posted online.

Stan glanced over at the science nerd book that Miz had tried to 'drop off' for Ford, still waiting in Dipper’s pile for cataloguing. ...Hell, if Stan thought about it, Miz was likely trying to do the gifts-as-apologizing thing again, since she didn't know how to apologize right, to stop feeling sorry with just words.

So Stan was going to have to tell her to stop. (And give her back the gold necklace and other stuff too, while he was at it.) Stan could see why she was trying to do it, but Ford would never accept it from her. It was one of those ‘principle’ things; if Ford wouldn’t take it from the kid, and Miz kept on saying she was, or was trying to be _like_ , Bill Cipher, then...

Well, whatever. Stan didn’t want to keep the books; they didn’t have room at the Shack for them, anyway. Ford probably could’ve stuffed them all down in his lab, but Stan knew his brother wouldn’t trust them, and he wasn’t going to do that, anyway. He kept the big space down there practically empty, for some reason or another; Stan didn’t know why.

Miz materialized a small piano out of some dead plant matter along the ground and changed her fiddle into a guitar. "Wanna duet with me?" she asked Bill. He smiled at her -- halfway between his wide grin and his smaller smiles -- and patted her head. "Yes!" he told her. Miz waved a hand to make the music sheets appear and handed them to Bill.

Stan raised an eyebrow at the display. "Should you really be usin’ your powers all that much, dragon-lady?" He was starting to wonder why the kid wasn't saying 'no' to her on any of this stuff, when the kid had been worried about it before.

"I’m fine. I need to practice them to get used to having the effects happen more efficiently with less energy loss anyway." Miz waved him off. "Also, I’ve modified my vessel to be capable of absorbing UV rays." She wanted to explore her Doors after all, so she’d need to figure out how to regulate her energy better, and practice helped.

"She _is_ being more efficient about it," Bill chimed in, as he looked over the sheet music. "Practice makes perfectly-imperfect! She is getting better at being more-worse," the kid told them next. ("More worse…" Ford muttered out almost darkly.) And the kid (not hearing him outright) then almost casually waved a hand at the ground (making a nearly inaudible clicking noise under his breath that only his sister heard) and seemed to… pull up some roots that were already there to make a bench to sit down on? Or did he grow them himself? ...Actually, now that Stan looked closer, the piano seemed to be… a living plant, too? Like, wood shaped into a piano-shape, with thick vine ‘wires’ peeking over the edge?

It left Stan wondering what the insides looked like; pianos had metal wires inside them, Stan knew that much. He glanced over at Ford, who was frowning at this, but also looked surprised for some reason.

"Somethin' wrong?" Stan asked his brother quietly. But Ford just glanced over at him, grimaced, and shook his head slightly, before taking another sip of his soda while watching the demons over the rim of it. (Nothing more than the usual problem of either Bill doing anything musical in his presence. Ford generally found it grating at this point. ~~And his burgeoning headache wasn't doing him any favors.~~ )

"So, uh…" Stan searched for something else to say. "You think we're gonna need to water that thing at some point?" he wondered out loud to his brother, under his breath. It got him a snort from Ford, and an, "Only if they don't immediately destroy it when they're done with it."

"Hm," said Stan, eyeing the whole setup, as he watched the kid sit down on the new 'bench'. (Well, there went Dipper's 'the dumb dorito's not using much magic casually for anything' theory.) "Think if I ask the demon-kids to keep it around, it'd make a good attraction for the Shack? Soos could call it the, uh, Tree-piano? --Treeano! Yeah?" Stan asked his brother next. Miz had grown the thing in a spot that could very well have a fence set up, and "I-- uh, _Soos_ , could have tourists pay to play the thing!" Stan enthused out next, before getting a good look at his brother's face. "...What?" Because Ford was looking amused at him here, over a demon-y thing no less.

Ford paused for a moment, and then he said, with great suppressed amusement, "Well, if you're willing to put up with the racket from random tourists pounding on it whenever they like, when they don't know how to play it…" Ford teased, and Stan grimaced. "...Or the local teenagers. Late at night. When you're trying to fall asleep at _8pm_." Stan glanced over at him, giving Ford an old-man glare over his teasing, but it didn't seem enough to bring his own brother's amused look down in the slightest.

"Well, I can set up a fence, have Dipper put up some keep away signs," Stan grumbled. Then he blinked and grinned. "Hey, if I put up a fence that's high enough, I can charge 'em just to see it!" Stan thought up next. "Make it not part of the regular tour -- somethin' _extra_ instead. Thing's gonna need more maintenance if I gotta keep the thing watered," he justified to himself (but mostly his brother).

Ford rubbed a hand across his face at his brother's money-grubbing ways. He looked away from him momentarily as he wracked his brain for some other potential excuse, one he might be able to use to somehow dissuade his brother from this course of action, and...

Aha. "A fence isn't going to keep the gnomes out," Ford tried next. "They'll just climb over it. And they're nocturnal." Very nocturnal. ...Some days. Not that Stan needed to know all the details of that.

"Could get Gompers to guard it," Stan muttered.

"The goat?" Ford said, feeling a bit confused, but Stan just grimaced and waved him off, so Ford sat back and let it lie, though he couldn't help but continue to give his brother a questioning look at the odd 'apropos of nothing' comment.

Miz called out across the lawn, "It locks down closed at night, like a crocus. Only opens up when there's sunlight."

Ford twitched. The man-eater had heard their conversation? It appeared her hearing was better than he thought. Then again, she had said she'd made her vessel genetically a dragon, and if she really hadn't been lying about that, then...

Bill twitched too where he was sitting on his newly-grown and very-green 'bench', having been just about ready to put his hands to the keys… up until he'd heard _that_.

"...You didn't add a lot of _Venus Flytrap_ to the mix, did you?" Bill said almost suspiciously, his fingers twitching forward, then away from the keys again as he leaned in ever-so-slightly, to squint his eyes a little and peer a bit more closely at the leaf patterns coming off of the sides of the piano-plant (and also his suit's scanner-readouts)...

"Course not. That would be too dangerous. And not funny." Miz huffed. Playing around with genetics was like, her jam. She knew what to add or not to add, how to make it all work together and how to avoid adding things she didn’t want!

"...Could be funny sometimes," Bill muttered, as he straightened up in place again. If it was someone she didn't like. Or another demon with harder skin and a real sense of humor to go with their age. (It wasn't like Bill himself wasn't known for his demon humor. It just… worked a lot better when one was generally invulnerable to physical harm. And he wasn't _quite_ that right now. Yes, he had his suit on, which he’d made for this very exact sort of reason! But that was still just-and-only a _very_ sturdy but paper-thin wrapping around his currently very-chewy and watered-down meaty and anchored-down-to center of his current stupid human-ish body, right at this very specific moment in time.)

"I used to be worried that normal pianos would close on my fingers, I don't wanna make one where that would actually happen." Miz told her brother (and everyone else, as part of that 'explain how this would negatively affect her as well' thing to ease Ford's worries). Stan noticed.

"Mm," said Bill. He hadn't thought she'd intentionally hurt him -- that thought hadn't crossed his Mind at all one bit. What _he'd_ been more worried about was something he himself would've termed as 'carelessness'.

Bill took a moment, and then reached forward and placed his hands on the keys, both slowly and gently. And then he blinked. And then he ran his fingers across the keys -- lightly, not playing, just literally sliding them across the surface of the keys like he was feeling them via touch. And then Bill _grinned_.

"Feels WEIRD," Bill enthused out, still grinning. He kicked his feet in front of him a bit in his glee.

Miz glanced over at Bill as he 'played about' with the keys and pedals and his sheet music a bit more -- settling in where he was sitting, it seemed -- and waited patiently for him until he was ready to give her an ‘ok’ nod to show he was ready to start.

"Ford, you gonna be okay with this?" Stan muttered to his brother under his breath. Because he knew how Ford got at Bill playing usually. The last time that Bill had needed to-- yeah, actually _needed_ to...

"If I'm not fine, I can tell them to stop," Ford said quietly. "Correct?"

"...Yeah," Stan said slowly. "And you should if you need to." That was… not something his brother was usually able to do, though. (Or even really thought of? So… did that mean this was… progress?)

(Then Stan grimaced internally. The kid would think it was progress at this point, too. Stan wanted his brother to speak up more, but Ford actually speaking out sometimes seemed like… well, lately, it seemed like something the kid had wanted him to do, too. To be 'less flat'. ...Stan sure as hell wasn't gonna tell his brother that one, though.)

"Hey, Miz," Stan called out. "Hate to ask this, but, uh…" Stan wasn't too sure how to put it. "You think you could make this thing wordless, when you sing, or whatever?" Stan tried, not really sure how to put what he was asking. Because Mabel liked the music, and it was helping keep her going with the book packaging, and so far, Ford had only been objecting to the words in the songs she'd been singing, not the actual music. So if the dragon-lady could manage that, then… (yeah, okay, Ford would still have one thing he didn't like, which was the fact that the kid himself would be playing, but it might only be that one thing at least, and Ford hadn't said 'no' immediately to that, so...)

"Yeah that's fine." Miz agreed easily. (That got both of them a look from Ford, but he didn't object.) "Three, two, one--" and…

The demons began to play together.

Bill started playing at Miz's cue, and after a few beats, Miz started singing.

...That is, Miz [hummed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ME0QBaTVn8) along to the song, but didn’t actually sing the words aloud. She'd picked up on what Stan had been trying to do there, but in truth, she'd already been planning on doing so herself. Knowing Ford, he’d continue to find issue with any lyrics she sang, no matter what it was. And so, because of this…

Miz was secretly glad that some of the songs from her first life didn’t seem to exist here -- less chance of people knowing the meaning behind them when she didn’t actually reveal the lyrics -- and the one she had just given Bill the sheet music to earlier was one of them.

Mabel looked up for a moment, genuinely surprised that Bill was playing the piano so gently. She'd thought he would be more forceful about it. (She'd heard him with that electric piano -- which he'd enthusiastically hated, but 'made do with' -- before, when Stan had told her to leave him to it, off in the farthest part of the museum, away from the Shack, a couple weeks ago, and… he'd been loud. And he'd made it sound discordant, and angry, but after awhile he'd made it _sing_...)

(But it had all been **forceful** and _LOUD_.)

Ford twitched a little at Bill's playing at and on the piano, but when Bill didn’t taunt Ford or even look over at him… (or start to sing himself…) and Ford realized that this _wasn't_ an attack on him of some sort… Ford slowly began to untense his muscles, neck, legs, shoulders and chest...

(Stan was watching, and Stan noticed this. He noticed how his brother began to relax at his side. He noticed how his head tilted back slightly, and his eyes slowly closed. He watched, and he paid attention to how his brother was listening to it. And he noticed how the look on his brother's face _now_... wasn't all that different from how he'd looked _then_ , when the kid had been all sponge-edged talk with that magic act in the background, a smooth and easy prattle…)

(...so the kid must've done this for him before, at least a couple times, too. ~~Damn him. What had he done to his brother, before and since then--~~ )

The song was soft, somewhat sad and Miz was singing wordlessly to a tune that went along with the music. Mabel and Dipper went back to their work.

Stan watched his brother for awhile longer, and once he was sure that Ford wasn't gonna have any problems with it (one way or the other, now or afterwards), Stan let himself relax a bit, too. He settled in beside his brother, sipping his soda and letting himself enjoy the soft music the demon kids were making. And… it wasn’t bad, it was almost… nice.

And that was how they spent the rest of their afternoon. The demons would pause after each song while Miz chose a new one, still gentle and easy on Ford’s headache to listen to, as the kids finished up the work that was part of their 'penalty number one'. Ford went from being untensed to being relaxed over time. He chatted lightly and lazily with Stan as he became more and more drowsy under the sound of the relaxing music, the just-right amount of shade of the porch over them under the summer sun, the gentle warm breeze blowing through the trees, his brother at his side ~~just as relaxed and happy as he was~~ , and the soft sounds of the niblings talking and working in the background… ~~all was calm, all was well, he was safe here…~~

When Dipper and Mabel finally announced that they were done (with a cheer from Mabel and a verbalized 'whew! ...ugh' from Dipper), Miz cheered as well before putting down her instrument (which had changed between a guitar, violin, and even a guzheng at one point, and was again a violin now) onto the picnic table. Then, Miz all but face planted onto the picnic table next to where Mabel was sitting on the bench, and let out a deep sigh (as Bill walked over to flip himself up onto the table, to lay flat on his back across the top of it himself). The teenager patted Miz’s shoulder.

"You okay?" Mabel asked. Miz mumbled unintelligently before turning slightly and whispering so that Stan wouldn’t hear, "So is this better or worse than a penalty where you have to clean the Mystery Shack bathrooms?"

Mabel blinked and stared at Miz. "Did you… plan this?" Mabel asked her.

"Not really, Stan was still trying to figure out a good penalty for you two. And, well, taking away something you want is a pretty usual type of punishment, right?" Miz shrugged. "I actually just wanted to practice with my powers and knowledge was something I have more leeway in messing with, and well, when you and Dipper started showing an interest…" Miz shrugged. 

Mabel let out a bit of a sigh that puffed up her cheeks, then pouted. "I think having the books right in front of us and then having them taken away again is worse."

Miz raised an eyebrow. "You two haven't found the loopholes?" She thought it was pretty obvious. At Mabel's confused look, Miz sighed. There were a whole bunch of ways for the twins to get around this penalty, like they knew the titles, they could buy the books themselves, or ask Miz what was in them, or ask their parents to buy them from Stan's c-Pay. Dipper was the one putting them up so he could easily send them links…

"If you two really wanted to get around this, and get the books you wanted, there are many ways you could, if you only think about it." Miz told her. She was tempted to just tell them all the ways, but brother had said that giving people all the answers all the time was going to make them less likely to think for themselves. And Miz thought that was pretty accurate, so she'd simply put the idea out there and let the kids figure it out themselves.

"Do you want hints?" Bill asked them, thinking along the same lines as his sister (except they were his Zodiac, and he was feeling a bit pleasantly vibrating-buzzed from all the music-making still, so… a bit more open at the moment to being more straightforward with them than he usually was these days). They knew what all the books were, they had the entire catalogue of them now, and the prices. "All of these are still in print, aaaaaand…" They could decide what they wanted, first-second-third, instead of being purely overwhelmed as they had been before, and…

Bill slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone where he was bodily lying across the top of the picnic table, head at the edge nearest Pine Tree. He tapped a few keys, and then turned the phone towards him, with one of the books Pine Tree had shown the most interest towards listed on the screen. "...they are FAR less expensive as eBooks, even at full price," Bill informed them, then frowned slightly as he pulled the phone away and back towards him again.

"...Most of them," Bill corrected, "Most of them are eBooks," he told them, after checking something else. (So his knowledge of everything-and-anything in this dimension was just a _few_ months outdated right now, fine -- so sue him! He'd Look at it all again eventually when it suited him! He could make up that 'lost' time _EASILY!_ In a flash and a quick-flickering! Whenever! he! wanted! -- _So there!_ )

"Miz scanned these books from a warehouse only 30 miles away from here, as well," Bill informed them next, letting his hand drop down, to let the phone lie on his chest, 'captured' in place between his chest and his hand. "That Stanford will insist on traveling there multiple times…" he informed them both, and let the leading _'So…'_ remain nonverbal, raising his eyebrows at them to communicate it that way, instead.

Pine Tree just frowned at him, though, and said, "I can't get eBooks. I don't have a phone."

"Dip-Dop, you can run phone apps on your computer," Mabel told him, from a happy point of authority on the matter. Because she had a few friends at school that she knew who did just that! They had messenger apps, and writing apps, and drawing apps--!

Dipper frowned at her, because he didn't think that was right, because… "But the operating system is different…"

"Don’t be silly, Dip-Dop!" Mabel began, 'boop'ing him on the nose with a sweater-covered arm. "They--"

"Alright kids, I’m gonna be starting dinner. Head inside and wash up," Stan called out to the kids, both demon- and human- alike, as he heaved himself to his feet, before making his way back inside. Ford jolted in place at his brother's raised voice and the soft hand clapped to his shoulder, having dozed off because of the soft, soothing music. The scientist tried to pretend he hadn’t been half-asleep as he quickly sat up.

Miz let out a happy "FOOD!" and rushed at the Shack, smacking against the side of the barrier with an "Oof!" as she tumbled back. (Bill sat up straight immediately, looking a bit shocked and alarmed as she did so.) "Right, I need to put these back on…" she muttered as she made a quick U-turn and went to grab her cuffs back up from the table, where she'd taken them off and left them earlier.

Dipper let out a snort of laughter before he could stop himself. Especially since Miz was rubbing at her nose with a disgruntled look. Miz sent Dipper a pout and Bill narrowed his eyes at him.

"It’s NOT FUNNY, Pine Tree. That _barrier_ is--" but Bill cut himself off before the usual 'annoying' remark that he made, and it left both Dipper and Mabel wondering… had that _really_ been what the dream demon had been about to say?

"At least it doesn’t hurt unless I hit it too hard." Miz shrugged, clicking on the wooden clasps and making her way inside the Shack.

Bill made a surrussing-sharp _clattering_ set of rapid clicks out loud, as he kicked his legs up into the air and then around for momentum, and spun his way over and around and down onto his feet, on the ground -- with no chirps or short-whistles at all -- and Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Bill _looked_ a bit sharper, all angles, for a moment, and none-too-happy about _something_ that was going on.

"You're not going to take down the barrier," Dipper said, and he tried to make it a statement, instead of a challenge.

" _Of course not!_ " Bill practically spat out at him, "It’s more useful in-place than it isn’t!" he elaborated to them briefly, as he grabbed up the last box of books and stomped his way forward across the lawn, somehow _still_ leaving the two of them behind in the dust.

"Bill, wait!" Mabel said next, hurrying to catch up with him. She reached out to tug at his sleeve a bit, and… he moved his arm away from her before she could do so, despite the box he was carrying. She blinked, but let that go (with not even a frown, Bill just got a little touchy sometimes). Instead, she opted to jump forward a bit more quickly, getting around in front of him, almost.

\--Not _completely_ in his way, she stayed a little to his right -- because she wasn't trying to stop him from moving forward. She knew now -- from multiple trips through the woods to the spaceship -- that he would do that if she got in front of him that much, whether he wanted to or not. For some reason, it came across as aggressive to him.

Dipper let out a breath when Bill stopped in place, even if Mabel bit her lip a little when Bill did it. What Dipper _wasn't_ expecting his sister to ask the demon next though, was, "Why are you so mad right now?"

"I'm not _MAD_ \--" Bill began harshly, but then stopped. And blinked. And _frowned_ (even more, because he was already frowning a bit). And then he said, "I'm _not_ \--" Except he let out a huff and _stopped talking_ again.

Dipper stared. Bill was… well, yeah, _of course_ he was mad right now, _anybody_ could see that. But... Mabel could just stand right there in front of him and _tell_ him that? And not have him _arguing_ about it with her -- without getting even _angrier_ with her about it?!

"I think you are, big brother," Miz stood just in front of the doorway, looking back at them with a frown. "Why? It didn't really hurt, just surprised me a bit."

And Bill looked a bit uncomfortable, chittering to himself under his breath again and looking like he didn't know what to say. (He just wanted to walk forward, up onto the porch, and put the stupid box down, and go inside the stupid house! Feelings were stupid! _AND HE WAS ALWAYS MAD!!_ ...But he also knew that that _wasn't_ what Shooting Star had meant there; what she'd _actually_ meant had been something to do with his (stupid) human-ish _body_ -behavior there, _not_ his usual common-state-of-everything, and that _wasn't_ really… it _wasn't_...

Miz thought about it. "It's okay with me," she said carefully. "It's… not the best situation, but it's not that bad. Like wearing pants that are just a little tight, uncomfortable but not to the point of pain." Or holding her breath and only being able to breathe shallowly once every few hours. But she didn't say that part aloud.

"It's not-- it's-- mmmn." Bill shifted from side to side slightly, not _quite_ a fluid bobbing motion with his torso, but almost. "Iiiiiii… don't like it when you almost damage yourself," Bill finally muttered out, not looking at any of them as he hunched his shoulders slightly, and the grip he had on the box tightened just a little bit more. "It's NOT 'okay' with ME." he added, even more quietly, still refusing to look at any of them, his head ducked away from them slightly to the side. Because to him, it wasn't the _bracelets_ that were the problem.

Miz smiled softly as a warm feeling swelled up in her chest. "I'll be more careful," she told him. Then she grinned and teased. "You're not mad, you're worried in a 'I care about you and don't want you to hurt' kind of way."

She saw the way Bill twitched and then straightened in place and leaned back slightly, chin up, as he not quite blurted out, "Well, YES!!" -- acting as if he was trying to act like he thought that _of course_ there was nothing wrong with him saying so out loud and in front of anyone else at all -- and the twins stared wide-eyed at Bill as he actually stood there and _admitted it_ , right in front of them all.

"That's fine. I don't want you to get hurt either." Miz took a few steps away from the door and made her way back to Bill's side. "Because I care about you too." She told him firmly before opening her arms for a hug, waiting to see if Bill would want to embrace her. He did last night, but that had been when he was overcome with fear that someone might kill her, she knew Bill wasn't too good with physical affection yet, so she would let him choose to hug her back.

Bill still looked a little… (embarrassed?! his cheeks were actually turning slightly pink, Dipper couldn't believe his eyes) but he did stare at Miz for a moment, and then he said to her without expression…

"Box."

...as he lifted it up ever so slightly, because he was still holding the big box of wrapped books in his arms.

Dipper coughed, stifling another laugh (a little more effectively this time), while Mabel stared at this whole display, wide-eyed still.

Miz nodded at him. "Yes." She knew that. But that wasn’t going to stop her from wanting a hug.

He stood there. She stood there with her arms outstretched towards him. And…

The twins stood there, staring at this display for a long moment, until Bill said, "...I'm going to go put the box down now!" and headed off for the door with a bit of a straight-backed looking-straight-in-front-of-him walk, vanishing inside the Shack.

Mabel and Dipper stared after him, then looked over at Miz… who had lowered her arms a little bit now, but she'd turned towards the Shack and... looked like she was going to… wait for Bill to come back and hug her?

It wasn't even another half-minute before Stan poked his head out of the Shack with an, "Okay, what's the holdup her..." Stan trailed off as he spotted the three of them just standing around, and Stan looked around at them all in confusion from the porch.

"Stan? What's going--" Ford said, having noticed the absence of the niblings and demons both when he saw Stan head back out for the back porch, and following out to see what was going on out in the backyard himself.

\--and he startled forward and somewhat out of the doorway as Bill came _right_ up behind him, right before Bill then began to snake around him and through the doorway, around and past him.

Headed straight for Miz.

Who Bill then wrapped his arms around in a hug.

...and seemed to whisper something to her as he did it, but neither of the twins quite caught what he said to her, right in her ear.

("I don't like it when you do things like that to yourself. You have too many 'accidents'. --I'm NOT stupid. 'Didn't _really_ hurt' means it still hurt you _some_. -- _I don't want you **damaging** yourself._ It makes me want to BREAK things that I definitely shouldn't be breaking right now.")

Mabel clutched her hands together under her chin, going all starry-eyed over this. Dipper was frowning.

And Miz whispered back, ("I’m still not used to having someone care so much when I get hurt even a little. My friends worry, but that’s mainly for the serious injuries…") as she pressed herself close to her brother. She felt his hold on her tighten the ever so- _slightest_ -little-bit before relaxing again, almost as if he was afraid he might hurt her if he hugged her too tightly.

This too, was something Miz would have to learn, that even if it wasn’t a lot of hurting, it would still make someone who cared about her unhappy if she was hurt. Miz hadn’t thought about it this way before. Her friends all knew she was immortal after all, they assumed she’d be fine so long as she wasn’t outright destroyed or bleeding out in front of them...

Ford both looked and felt uncomfortable at seeing this display in front of him by these two (demons); Stan was mostly used to seeing this sort of thing from them by now.

"Dipper, Mabel, inside; now," Stan called out, as he turned around and walked himself back inside.

They did so, and as they passed Ford… their great-uncle seemed to startle ‘awake’, and he turned his stare away from the demons to stride back inside after the rest of his family, at a not-quite-hurried pace of his own.

Miz and Bill finally broke their hug and Miz smiled up at him. "So what would you like for dinner?" she asked as she gently took his hand to walk back inside the Shack properly (and Bill followed along at her side, letting her lead him along).

Bill shrugged, not really caring too much either way, but at the look Miz was giving him, he mentally sighed and thought about it, and told her, "The roasted pepper-rubbed broccoli wasn’t bad."

Miz giggled as she lightly swung their interlocked hands back and forth. "I can do you one better, Stan and I bought some jalapeno peppers. I’ve never tried cooking with them before, and it’s gonna be too spicy for me, but you might enjoy them. I’ll just use a little bit for now, in case you don’t, but if you like them, I’m gonna experiment with some recipes."

Bill hummed in thought as he smiled down at his little sister, before raising his free hand up to pet her on the head a bit as they walked into the kitchen, hand in hand.

"I think I would like that." Bill grinned at her. "--Let’s _find out!_ "

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: The most akward of sibling hugs XD
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  *pfft* XD


	27. Chapter 95: You clicked the wrong easter egg dummy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> An almost meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 108 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/48141586). It was first posted on Aug 19, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\------

"There are four types of people in this world." Miz spoke up randomly, out of nowhere as she and Soos prepared breakfast together the next day, having gotten back to a more comfortable baseline for behavioral output around everyone. "When their legs itch under their jeans, some will just cry and accept that there’s nothing they can do, some will desperately scratch at it over the denim, some will slip their hands under their pants to scratch it… and the last type are those who will throw their jeans off to scratch it directly."

"Five types," Bill put out there. "Some just say ‘to hell with it!’ and amputate their legs!" He’d even Seen that one, too! Multiple times! (Even some humans, who couldn’t regrow their legs!)

Miz looked over and nodded solemnly. "Big mood. Itches are no small matter."

Mabel snorted. "I'm the ‘scratch at it over the pants’ type." Miz grinned. "Me too!" The two high-fived. Dipper groaned and buried his face in his hands. Mabel mock-whispered, "Dipper's the type to stick his hands into his pants." Miz giggled.

" _Mabel!_ " Dipper cried, flushing and pulling his hat down over his eyes.

"Ah dudes, I'd take my pants off." Soos nodded. "Leg itches under jeans are serious business." He looked down at his own pants. "That's why I wear khakis. They're easier to scratch through when I’m working, and even easier to take off."

Now Bill was staring at them all, unaware that this was apparently such an important subject for humans.

Melody walked into the room. "What're you all talking about?"

Soos looked over. "If your leg itches while you're wearing jeans, what would you do?"

Melody blinked before she snorted. "Reach a hand under my jeans to scratch it." She grinned.

Dipper looked up. "You too?" He seemed relieved to know he wasn't the only one.

Bill stared. Was… this really that important?

"Ooh! We should ask Grunkle Stan and Ford!" Mabel jumped up in her chair. She paused and turned to Bill. "Bill? What type of scratcher are you?" Bill continued staring at them all, unable to really understand any of this.

"....None of the above," Bill told her. "...I would make it stop itching, just ignore it, or get a new body," Bill added almost absently as he turned away from her, wondering why the kettle was taking so long to heat his hot water for tea -- it should be DONE already! (When he’d been puppeting around Pine Tree’s body, he’d mostly just ignored it… until said body had been on the verge of collapse, and gotten way too hard to control. _Then_ he’d felt an overwhelming urge to scratch those mosquito bites. It had been _annoying_...)

Miz hummed cheerfully as she folded some more origami animals. "That only works for people who would be able to do that. But it’s an efficient solution nonetheless." Melody had taken over the cooking for breakfast when she came in, so Miz had some free time now, Bill’s veggies just needed to sit in the heat for a little while longer. Miz had been telling Melody about what sorts of things Bill liked to eat, and the woman was very attentive to his dietary needs.

It also likely helped that Bill had already eaten the salad she’d made before, and seemed okay with it. So that was one potential roadblock already sidestepped, if not shoved out of the way entirely

Bill was watching the hot water kettle like a hawk unblinkingly, now. He bunched up his shoulders a bit, more and more, as the seconds ticked on, and on, and on, and...

\--the whistle went off, and Bill leapt to his feet, reached forward, and deftly _snagged_ the kettle right off of the burner in a flash, turning away from the stove (and Melody, who was standing nearby it) and flicking the burner knob to the ‘off’ position with his free hand as he went.

He settled in at the table with his ‘prize’, pouring himself a cup of the still-boiling liquid into his waiting cup, teabag already in-cup.

Dipper rolled his eyes at Bill’s impatience. He did this every time, literally watching water boil.

"Why do you do that?" Dipper finally asked him in exasperation, and to this, Bill replied, "Because it’s _better_ this way." He lowered the teakettle to the table, onto the potholder sitting ready for it off to the side. "You’re _supposed_ to make tea with still-boiling water."

"No, I mean, why do you watch the kettle boil? Isn’t it frustrating to wait like that?" Dipper could see the way Bill stared and waited. The second-hand annoyance was pretty intense.

"Everything about waiting is frustrating, yes," Bill said, then turned his head to look over and down at Dipper. "What’s your point?"

Dipper stared up at him for a moment.

"...Never mind," Dipper muttered out, pulling down on his cap with one hand as he looked away from Bill, back to his own journal and binders. (...Not that he was working on his next DDNMD campaign right now; that wasn’t something he was going to be doing right there in front of Bill Cipher, c’mon.)

Meanwhile, from where she was sitting at her own seat at the kitchen table, Miz started singing to herself with a dazed expression, eyes semi-glazed, while a small light seemed to flicker across her iris. She was clearly staring at something that none of them could see.

Mabel raised an eyebrow at this. "Uh…" She waved her hand in front of Miz’s face. Miz blinked slowly, coming back into the here and now.

"Oh, sorry, I was watching something." Miz said sheepishly.

Dipper raised his eyebrows. "Watching… like with your All-Seeing Eye?" He thought she couldn’t do that while inside the barrier. Miz laughed awkwardly. "Eh… I was reviewing my memories of a video I watched a long time ago." Dipper looked even more confused. "What?" Miz shrugged. "Music videos for songs I like. Here, hang on…" She was getting better at using her powers through the cuffs. This shouldn’t be too hard, she had her own version of the technology suit that Bill had, modified somewhat to work in conjunction with her other powers, specifically, projecting her thoughts and memories through them. She pointed at the wall and a projection screen popped up. Music began to play.

Everyone stared. Mabel grinned. "That’s pretty cool." She turned to Miz. "Do you have more?"

The dragon-demon wiggled in place. "I’ve got thousands upon thousands," she admitted. "I love music."

Mabel looked at the screen, which was now white since the song had ended. "What was that song about?" the teenager asked, having been too distracted by the pretty dancing to read the subtitles.

Miz blinked and tilted her head. "Would it upset you?" she asked simply, and Mabel looked taken aback. "Is it actually horrible?" Mabel asked her.

"...depends? I’m not sure what your baseline for horrible stuff is," Miz shrugged. She was even less sure now, after that talk with Stan two days before.

It was Melody who responded with, "From what I could understand, that song was essentially, ‘what if Cinderella was an assassin aiming for the prince’s life’."

Miz blinked and grinned. "Yes. That." She personally thought that was a cool idea for a song, but wasn’t sure how the twins would feel about it, since, you know, assassins and stuff. Miz’s grin turned into a frown. "Should I find a happier song? Sorry, I just really liked that song, melody wise and all that." She pouted. "It’s still a better message than some of the songs people listen to nowadays. Most of them seem to be cheesy, boring love songs. Or telling people to eat their own pants?" Miz said wryly.

Soos shrugged. "Hey, to each their own, dog. My pants didn’t taste all that bad, to be honest." (Melody giggled at this, and Soos smiled.)

"Or the objectification of female bodies by male humans for some reason, or paying for sex and drugs with violence, or hamsters in too-hard-to-steal sportscars," Bill noted absently, as he raised and lowered his teabag in his cup.

"Which you shouldn’t do." Miz told the kids. "If you’re gonna date someone, don’t go for the type of person who equates violence with affection," she warned them.

Dipper rolled his eyes. "I know that. That’s just common sense. --And so does Mabel," he added for his sister -- especially after what had happened with Gideon, ew.

Mabel shrugged. "Um, it’s still nice of you to warn us?" She twitched at the implied mention of Gideon. "Ugh, right. _Gideon_ …"

"Did you _ever_ really like him?" Miz asked her, curious.

Mabel shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, in my defense, I didn’t realize he was going after me in that way to begin with? And no," she added. "No, I did not like him. He’s a jerk!"

"He is!" Bill enthused out, as he removed the teabag from his cup of tea, and lifted said cup to his mouth to drink said beverage, post-haste.

"Could we maybe get back to talking about cool music, please?" Mabel asked them all and sundry. Any Gideon mention tended to bring down the mood, and she _really_ didn’t want to hear what Bill thought of him right now.

" _Fine_ ," Dipper agreed, though rather tiredly. "But what makes _this_ one so great?" Dipper muttered.

Miz scoffed. "It’s a love song about an assassin falling in love with her mark and having doubts about whether or not she should go through with it! Both of them make a connection with each other, recognizing each other’s inner pain, and wonder if this is what ‘love’ is!" She gushed. "Isn’t that more interesting than just ‘oh that guy’s hot so I think I like him’?" Nevermind how the final lines imply that she DID in fact, stab the prince and the two gazed into each other’s eyes as he bled out and died ("I cannot move anymore.") It was twisted but it was a tragic romance! Miz lived for that kind of thing!

Mabel frowned. "That sounds super-sad. She fell in love with him and everything, but…"

Miz shrugged. "That's the entire point of a tragic romance."

Melody nodded, seeing her point. "Well, maybe choose a song with a happier ending?" the woman suggested. Stan Pines had ‘warned’ them about Miz’s taste in music first off when they’d both come over to help babysit this morning -- the twins this time, _not_ Ford and Bill -- and also of Ford’s overall reactions lately when lyrics were involved, when it came to her songs.

Miz shrugged and projected a few more songs.

Taking Melody's advice, she chose the more… kid-friendly songs.

They spent a while discussing the benefits of storytelling through song, as Melody finished cooking up breakfast for them all (both grunkles in absentia for the meal). Miz launched into a lecture about how all human history was formed through stories and their very lives were essentially stories in and of themselves. Miz simply liked the interesting stories more.

And by the end of the meal, Dipper and Mabel noted that so long as Great-Uncle Ford wasn't around, Miz seemed to be able to act perfectly sweet, if a little odd.

Dipper sighed. If only she could be like this all the time, then… well, _then_ they’d only have _Bill_ to contend with. The dumb triangular jerk.

\---

Miz held out her hand and concentrated. A door simmered into existence before her. It wasn't a real, physical door. It was in the Mindscape, separate from the world around it. And it wasn’t like she was creating it; she’d already created it before. She was just pulling it back into focus. ...Hm. It looked like Bill had warded it, already. ‘Probably a good idea.’ She didn't approach it though, watching it carefully. She waited. Listened.

The door rattled.

Miz sighed. Nope. It was still out there. ‘That's fine. It'll leave eventually. Probably.’ She had the strangest feeling that told her it wouldn't be able to stay forever. It would get bored and leave. It would HAVE to leave.

She dismissed the door, and it faded out of existence. ...Well, so she had an excuse to stay longer. She hoped this wasn't selfish of her, to keep mooching off Stan like this. She knew that money was a thing. Stan probably had rent to pay and groceries and…

...and Stan said she didn't have to. But she WANTED to. She didn't like to feel like a leech. (She did enough of that as a human.) Maybe she could help do the dishes or laundry? Or force Pinetree to take a bath?

Ugh. How could he stand not bathing?

But she'd have to ask Stan if that was allowed. If she says that Dipper’s filthiness offended her (which it did), maybe then he would allow that? Or maybe she could challenge Pinetree to a water fight? Or just clean his clothes while he wasn’t looking?

Miz twitched. She wanted to clean something.

...Like that weird lamp with the deer legs she found in the back of the storage room and brought up to Bill's room because she thought it was cool (and possibly cursed?). She liked cleaning that. She just had to find more stuff to clean.

So she got to work. Cleaning.

The fishes above the fireplace...

The antler ceiling lamp...

...What else could she clean?

\-----

Stan walked into the kitchen for a soda a little before lunchtime. (Breakfast had been granola bars with Ford in his bedroom, mostly because Ford was protesting ‘having’ to take meals with the demons in the kitchen at the same time, the goober.) But Stan found himself stopping to stare incredulously at the sight of his (semi-unwanted) guest using a _toothpick_ to scrape off the grime from around the seams and hinges of the sink. … _And_ her brother was nowhere in sight while she was doing this. That was a new one.

So Stan turned to Mabel instead, who was sitting at the table working on one of her scrapbooks.

"Do I wanna know?" Stan grunted out to her. Mabel shrugged. "She said it was bothering her. And that she had to clean something before she went crazy… crazier? She wiped the dust off the Singing Salmon earlier." Well, Stan wasn't sure how to feel about that.

He watched Miz clean the parts that no one in their right mind really cared about for awhile. (Well, that’s the point isn’t it?) And after awhile, Stan sighed and trudged over to the fridge to get his soda, deciding to just not worry about it all that much. Not like she was hurting anyone doing it. There was one thing about the whole thing that he really didn’t get, though.

Stan closed the fridge, popped the tab on the can, and took a sip, all before he turned back to the scene still going on behind his back at the sink and finally asked, "And the maid outfit?" It was the first thing he’d seen walking into the room, but he hadn't been sure if his eyes had been deceiving him or something.

Miz answered, "Because maids are cute!"

... Stan _literally_ had nothing to say to that. He thought she didn't like wearing clothing? Hadn't she said that before?

Miz responded absently, "Costumes and dressing up to look nice is not the same as when I'm trying to be comfortable."

Stan's eyebrows went up. She hadn't even turned around to address him, and he knew she wasn't looking at him in the window reflection -- that was what _he_ was using to get half a look at her face, and her eyes weren't on him.

Stan glanced over at Mabel, wondering what was going on; Mabel made a confused sound herself, and Miz laughed suddenly for no reason that Stan could see. "I dressed up while I was a triangle too."

Mabel frowned at this. "How are you doing that?" Mabel asked Miz, closing her scrapbook and looking over at her carefully. She didn’t see any mirrors, and it wasn’t like she’d been mouthing any words… so how had Miz…?

"Doing what?" Miz asked, and Mabel looked frustrated.

"Responding to questions we haven't asked yet!" (Stan blinked at this. Dipper was usually the one to get all touchy about asking and then not getting his questions answered, not Mabel. But then...)

That got Miz to turn around and stare at them, looking at their mouths with an 'Oh shit!’ expression. (Stan narrowed his eyes at this.) Miz winced. "I didn't realize you hadn't asked them yet."

Before Stan could say anything, it was Mabel who put it together first. "You can hear our thoughts?" Mabel asked, and Miz winced.

"I'm not trying to. And I don't hear ALL of them. Just the particularly loud ones."

Stan stifled a sigh and ran a hand over his face. "...This like your whole ‘feeling emotions’ thing?" Miz nodded hesitantly then shook her head before just shrugging, making a ‘kinda?’ movement with her hand. Right. And with her back turned she couldn't tell which stuff was said aloud and which was her just hearing things in her head. _Great._ (Ford was gonna lose his shit over this one, once he found out; the whole point of that metal plate was supposed to be keeping Bill outta his head -- Bill _out_ , and his own thoughts _in_.)

"...Define 'loud’," Stan asked her next. He had to figure out how bad this one was, too.

Miz thought about how to explain this. "Emotionally charged thoughts tend to be loud. Or things that you were going to say aloud anyway. And most of the time it'll just be disjointed, with a word here and there, and quiet murmurs where the rest of the thought was supposed to be. You guys aren’t actively _projecting_ , even if you’re capable of passively _receiving_." …Okay. Stan sighed. Ford wasn't going to like this _at all_ , was he. (Neither was the kid, Stan would bet.) Actually, he might as well ask... "Can you hear Ford's thoughts too?"

Miz's expression told him ‘yes’. And from the looks of it, she didn't think his thoughts were all that nice. (...was _this_ why Miz had been so upset by Ford not liking her, maybe? ...Huh. What sorts of things had she overheard Ford thinking about her?)

"I usually ignore them," Miz protested. "Like background noise." ...Right, and since he was askin’ questions and she couldn't see his mouth move, she was tuned in to him and thought he was still askin’ her questions out loud.

Yeah, no. Hell, no. They weren't doing _this_ again.

"--Outside, _**now**_ ," Stan commanded her, pointing a finger to the nearest door with the hand holding the soda can. Better get this done and handled before Ford made an appearance. Then he turned away and grumbled out, "Where's the kid, attic or outside? -- _BILL,_ " Stan called out loudly, walking away and over to the nearest window, to look outside. He peered out. (Nope. Bill wasn't out by the picnic tables; kid must still be in his room, instead of taking the roof route down and outside the barrier.)

Stan glanced over at Mabel as he turned back towards the rest of them. "Pumpkin, where are Bill and your brother?" he asked Mabel.

"Dipper’s in the Mystery Shack gift shop with Melody. I haven’t seen Bill around for a bit, maybe he’s upstairs?" Mabel said truthfully.

Stan sighed. "Both of you, outside, with me." Mabel was _supposed_ to be being ‘babysat’ (read: watched) by either him, Soos, or Melody right now, whenever they weren’t in their room. They weren’t even halfway through the first week of their house-arrest penalty, yet. "Stay in sight for a minute." He turned away from them, frowning.

Miz sighed. "Why is _every_ part of me problematic?" she muttered, rinsing off the grime on the sink before wiping her hands dry on a towel. She and Stan passed each other as he headed for the base of the staircase to the attic, and she marched outside, head hung as Mabel followed her.

"Well, it's not your fault right?" Mabel asked, and winced as Grunkle Stan hollered up the stairs for Bill pretty loudly behind them.

Miz sighed. "Not like it matters." Mabel raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you seal off this hearing-minds thing along with your emotion-al thing-ie, too?" Mabel asked.

Miz shrugged. "Didn't really think about it. Like, do you ever think to yourself ‘oh hey, I should just stop blinking or breathing’ or something? These are just… natural functions I have. And most thoughts are set to private anyway. It's not like I can hear your _every_ thought or something." Miz huffed.

Mabel winced. "Does it really feel like that to you? Like breathing?" She saw Miz step past the edge of the barrier and click off her (new) magic-cancelling bracelets. The things that sealed up Miz’s powers. Mabel frowned. ...Was that how Miz really felt about them? The headband that cut off her senses and made her ‘deaf’ to emotions, the bracelets to hold in her powers like one long breath held underwater…

...Was that like forcing Miz to hold in and seal away and hide everything that made her weird and different, just to 'fit in’? Did it make her feel dizzy or kind of off and gaspy, if she kept them on too long? Was that why they usually spent so much time outside? Or upstairs, up in the attic, where Bill could do magic again, because he’d made a bubble _inside_ the barrier that let him do that? And if it was...

...then did Bill feel the same way about it, too, every time that he walked inside? Even though he still did it, to stay with them, like Grunkle Stan wanted him to? ...Just like Miz was because she wanted to stay with Bill?

(And what did that mean about Bill's anchor, and Grunkle Stan? Was all of Bill's 'weirdness’ really only horribleness that Bill could just have locked away like that, for him to go without as something completely separate from him? Or was all that weirdness actually a real part of him, too? --Were there maybe some things that the weirdness was supposed to do for him that weren't just horrible, that felt the same way to _him_ with the anchor working on him as _Miz_ was talking about feeling about this?)

(Woah, woah. Wait. --Did that mean that Grunkle Ford was _right?_ That they really _didn't_ know what Bill was like when he was all being himself, because the anchor _was_ keeping the dream demon from doing all sort of things that were like breathing to him? ...She needed to talk to Dip-Dop about this later.)

"Imagine having something that is just perfectly normal to you, a part of who you are, as natural as being able to see Color or breathing without having to think about it -- but it's something that people don't like. So then imagine that you have to hide it, or suppress it, just to be allowed to be around other people," Miz grumbled as she formed a leaf chair to sit down in. "I can understand sealing off my Empathy; it can hurt me. And I guess my hearing the thoughts you're thinking if they're loud is an invasion of privacy. But it's not like I hear _everything_. Especially since even with random thoughts I STILL can't understand ANY of you!" She sighed. "Besides, being able to tell when someone's about to try and kill me or know how someone's feeling is useful for when I'm making Deals back home. But..."

"Nobody’s trying to kill you here…" Mabel said slowly. And she wasn’t just saying that; they really _weren’t_. Old Man McGucket wasn’t even talking about it, and even Grunkle Ford--

Miz closed her eyes tightly. "It's just… annoying!" Miz growled. "I already have to wear these--" she held up the bracelets "--just to be allowed near the house and…" Miz made a frustrated sound. "I'm nothing but a goddamn burden. Nothing but trouble. Nothing but a problem for everyone around me--!" she buried her face in her hands and breathed heavily after her short rant.

Mabel winced (and not just at her language). "That’s not…" She really didn't think any of that was right. If anything, it sounded just as wrong as some of the stuff that Bill said sometimes! But she didn't really know how to explain...

"--And Stan won't let me do anything to earn my keep around here!" Miz said next. "I'm just living here, mooching off you guys and I feel so… useless!" Miz flopped back on the giant leaf.

"Who's callin’ somebody useless?" was the grumpy call across the yard from Stan, as he made his way across the grass towards her. (Stan had called upstairs to the kid, and Bill was on his way down. Stan had only really heard the last part of all that Miz had said. He’d been able to see them from the house, but not hear them; his hearing aid wasn’t _that_ good.)

Miz whined. "No one is. But I _feel_ useless." she huffed out. "I feel bad that I keep mooching off you. I'm staying here longer than I originally planned to. And I want to do something to earn my keep." She rolled over on the leaf. "I wanna clean something. It's calming… and productive..."

Stan let out a long sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was kind of getting tired of trying to have this conversation with the demon kid. "Kid, you're fishing for your own food half the time, so I don't have to go cleanin’ out the grocery store every day," Stan pointed out. "And you're Bill's family. --I told you, he's stayin’ here, and you stayin’ here with him's fine." Stan gave her a long look. "You know, I ain't exactly 'earning my own keep’ here. I'm just livin’ in the Shack these days, not running the tours or doin' much of anything else. Does that make me useless or somethin’?"

"... no…" Miz admitted.

"Well then, don't you go off feelin’ all useless on any of us, either," Stan told her. "Heck, you’re a kid anyway. Shouldn’t be working unless you really want to, for you. Unless it's a helping the family business thing," Stan amended, rather obviously, "But Bill ain't doin’ any business here. So it's just down to the stuff _you_ want to do, for you. Get it?"

Miz wiggled in place. "I want to clean," she admitted.

Stan blinked at her. "Seriously?" Stan asked her, turning completely towards her to get a really good look at her. "You… really _want_ to clean stuff, just ‘cause?"

Miz nodded. "It makes me feel like I'm contributing to the household in some way. And I like it when things are clean. Except dusting. I don't like dusting because it makes me sneeze."

Stan snorted, rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth to help keep in the laugh. Right. Big bad demon-dragon lady, afraid of a little dust.

Stan shook his head and sobered up quickly, though. "Alright. We'll figure out cleaning stuff later, after the kid is down and he's got this… 'mind-talk thing’ all settled out… if cleaning stuff is really something you really want to do _for you_ ," he told her, then got a little more serious, back on the main topic of problematic stuff going on right now. "So how bad is this 'you hearing our thoughts’ thing, anyway? This thing as bad as the emotions thing, where you can't block any of us out when we're thinkin’ stuff at you, either?"

Miz groaned. "But this one doesn't harm me and I don't hear ALL thoughts."

Stan gave her a long look. "But me no buts," he told her. "Can you block people out on your own, or not?" She sure wasn’t doin’ it earlier, though...

"I will have to alter my seal-headband again," Miz huffed. She was doing so now, wiggling her fingers along said headband.

"So, you can’t block people out on your own, without doin’ a headband-thing to help you out," Stan said, getting a little suspicious of how she was avoiding saying it straight out to either of them, here and now. (He knew better than to let her get away with not answering this thing, here and now. Either she told him straight-up, or she’d have to lie to his face about it. But he wasn’t putting up with her going this sideways at him about something, just like he didn’t with the kid. --That was what had gotten Ford into trouble with him, in the first place. Stan wasn’t stupid.)

Miz whined a little bit. "I… I don’t really know how it works. It was just a ‘thing’ I could do as a triangle, but even when I’m just in my energy form, I can still hear thoughts. So while part of it must be biological, not all of it, since it still worked even without a body."

Great... "Y’know, privacy's still a thing," he told her. "Don’t think you’d like it if _we_ heard every last one of _your_ thoughts," he tried telling her. Then Stan frowned. Because if this was another one of those things that she didn’t know how it worked… "Y’know, if you don’t know how this works... you didn't think the emotion thing was a problem, either, and it was," Stan pointed out. Not until she'd talked it out with the kid, anyway, apparently. "I don’t want me _thinking_ somethin’ around you hurting you, any more than I think any of the rest of us do. Same thing with us feelin’ stuff, too. Yeah?"

Miz sighed. "Fine." She slumped place on the bench she was sitting on, up against the picnic table behind her. "This is related to my general hearing so it shouldn't be hard to block it out too, would have to be careful not to make myself deaf again though… and I can just ignore it the same way you can tune out other people’s conversations when you’re in a crowd or sitting next to someone on a bus." (Stan eyed her. Tuning out other conversations wasn't always a thing that happened inside people's heads -- earmuffs and headphones and earplugs were a thing -- and she still hadn't given him a range for how far out she could hear thoughts from other people. ...Well, he'd let her concentrate on the stuff she was doing for now, and sic the kid on her about it all later.)

She closed her eyes, frowning. It wasn't too difficult to isolate this particular aspect of her Being. It just felt weird to seal it off. Just like shutting off any of her senses. She wasn't lying when said it was like breathing or seeing or whatever. It was such a natural part of her. She felt everything go quiet. The world seemed to get… unnaturally quiet. Eardrums only picked up things that carried over on air waves after all, nothing like being able to hear (to know) everything around her.

"You done?" Stan asked, after Miz opened her eyes back up again. She nodded. Huh. That was quick. "How much of what I've been thinking have you been picking up?" Stan asked her. "Do ya know?" It wasn't like she'd seemed to be able to tell the difference in the kitchen...

Miz shrugged. "I wouldn’t really know unless I’m actually listening for it." Stan sighed heavily. That didn’t tell him anything; she hadn’t even been able to tell the difference before -- how would she be able to know when she was ‘actually listening for it’? Or was this a passive versus active thing like the emotions thing, too?

Stan gave her a grumpy sort of look, but he let that one go. If she didn’t know, then she didn’t know. ...Not like he’d been thinking much that he wouldn't bring up with the kid if Bill had asked, anyway, but the little sis here seemed a lot more touchy on a few things. He was kind of surprised it hadn't gotten him into 'trouble’ with her before, though, now that he thought about it. "How much distance you got on that ‘hearing thoughts’ thing, when you’re tryin’ to do it?" Stan asked her next.

"If they’re in the same room as me, I can’t hear through walls." Miz shrugged. Not unless she was Hearing in conjunction with her Sight. All-Seeing Eye and all that.

’Alright,’ Stan thought. So, if walls got in the way… it was line of sight basically, then? Did that mean she could hear anybody outdoors, as long as there weren't any trees in the way? ...Eh, Stan would let the kid figure that one out for him. Not his callout.

In the meantime, Stan stared out at the forest a while, trying to remember a few things he had thought about before that might be a problem, before he finally brought up, "Hey, is that why you changed the color on that thing?" while waving at her headband. "Because I knew Ford didn’t like the color, and I thought it at you before?" Because her headband had been yellow, that first day that Stan had saw it. But it was a dark blue now. Stan distinctly remembered thinking that Ford wouldn't like the yellow, when he’d first seen it on her, then. If Miz had heard that, then she had probably changed it because she'd heard him think that. She wouldn’t have had any reason not to, otherwise; not really.

Miz nodded, and Stan sighed. "Kid, you had your headband on back then, and you hadn’t finished fixing it up to only handle the emotions-stuff back then, right? Why didn't that block out this ‘hearing thoughts’ thing along with it?" That seemed a little off to him. She’d barely been able to balance properly going up the stairs...

"My headband at the time just blocked out my senses. I had Hearing enabled. And this, counted as hearing." (So, what, emotions counted as feeling? Like touch?) She continued unprompted to explain it some more, "It’s from when I was a triangle. I didn’t have ears or vocal chords as a triangle so all my Hearing and Speaking was telepathic, all communication was through the ‘public’ thoughts that the shapes around me projected out. This vessel was created with ears and an auditory system that translates vibrations of air into sound but my natural hearing from my triangle form is more ‘natural’ to me. Hearing thoughts for me is as natural as hearing sound wave vibrations are for you guys. Even as just energy, I didn’t have ears so thought communication was all I really did."

...Okay, so hearing sound waves was actually more unnatural for her than hearing thoughts. She had to _actively_ make herself hear soundwaves. "So you need a set of thought-plugs for your thought-ears, I gotcha." Stan paused for a moment. "How are you doin’ it different now?" Stan asked, scratching at his cheek.

Miz sighed. "I’m setting my hearing to only sound wave vibrations." She didn’t look happy about it. Stan asked, "So why don’t your sight count as your All-Seeing Eye thing?"

"Because my All-Seeing Eye was a sense I got AFTER I became a demon and it’s tied into a different aspects of my powers. My hearing thoughts thing was a natural part of my triangle biology back when I was still mortal." Miz explained.

Stan raised his eyebrows. "Huh. You got that thing after?" Miz nodded. (He wondered if the kid had, too.) "So your eye thing feels different, because you didn't have it when you were a human or a triangle. But the other things don’t, because you were doin’ them when you had a body way back when." he thought for a moment. "But you were a triangle after a human, and a triangle demon after a triangle, and neither of those got ears, so the human stuff don't feel so natural anymore?" It was only one out of the three, and the oldest one.

Miz nodded again. "That’s why my Hearing sense still maps more naturally to telepathy than sound waves. I mean, I didn’t fully understand how the soundwave thing worked back when I was human, so I had to manually learn how to craft a vessel that was capable of it, as opposed to hearing thoughts which I could do more easily since I just set my vessels to be like how my triangle body was like."

Stan nodded before a different realization came to him. "Hey, is the reason you keep getting upset at Ford," even after she’d gone and blocked out being able to feel all his emotions from herself, "Because he keeps thinkin’ not really nice things about you, that you were thinkin’ he was sayin’ out loud?" Stan said leadingly, pretty sure he already knew the answer to that one, and Miz groaned.

"I actively try to tune him out." (Yeah, but she’d also just made it pretty clear that she couldn’t do it without changing the headband to do that for her, now. Which meant…) "It’s all _‘evil monster_ this and _‘kill the Demon now before she betrays us all’_ that. It’s super annoying to listen to someone wishing you were _dead_ just because of your **Race** every few minutes. So I _try_ to ignore it." Stan sighed heavily at the last of this. He wasn't so sure he wanted to explain this one to her, given how she might end up reacting to it if he did, but...

"Look, kid," Stan told her, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "How far down can you hear him? Like, layers and junk." She'd said that… "You said that you mostly just hear the stuff that people would say out loud, right?"

"I don’t hear all his innermost thoughts, if that’s what you’re asking. Just the stuff that he’s thinking out loud to himself." Miz pouted.

"Yeah, exactly," Stan said, dropping his hand and looking up at her. "So if that's what you're hearing from him, then he’s gotta have a constant mantra thing going on inside his head, telling himself not to trust you, right?" In other words, Ford was damn near one step away from muttering it under his breath at himself every time he found himself in the same room with her, having to _remind_ himself that…

Stan let out a sigh. "--You think somebody does that if they're really all that sure about what they're doing?" Stan told her, and hoping that he didn’t have to go any further than that. (Because, damnit Ford, not helping. Because if his brother were actually that convinced of things, then Ford would _not_ be spending that much time trying to _remind_ himself that the demon kids were monsters. --That Ford was doing that? Meant that his brother was worried about something, sure, but it also meant that that ‘something’ _wasn't_ so much the demon kids hauling off and eating somebody out of nowhere with a bunch of really sharp teeth…)

Miz furrowed her brows in thought. "I guess not? It’s just irritating. Especially when I’m actually trying to be civil."

And to that, Mabel said brightly, "Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not going to listen to what he's thinking anymore!"

Miz blinked slowly as she processed that. Finally she nodded. "Yeah. Yeah! That’s…" She tilted her head. "... good?" (Mabel smiled at her for it.)

"Yeah, that's good," Stan reaffirmed. "Ford's trying’ to keep it inside his head instead of just yellin’ it out at you. Means he's trying to not start a fight with you, at least." ...Trying _something_ , hell. "So just, y'know, let him keep his guns in his holsters and his thoughts inside his head, right where everything belongs, just like he's been trying to do most of the time. ...And let your brother tell you what a bad idea it was to go around listening to people's thoughts like that now, yeah?" Stan added, as Bill finally walked out of the house. Stan frowned, wondering what had been taking the kid so long upstairs, especially since the kid had to know that it was _him_ that had been all ‘alone’ with her for awhile there, which he knew the kid _still_ didn’t like…

Stan pushed himself to his feet and started heading towards the house; he stopped and met Bill halfway across the yard and tossed a thumb back in Miz's direction, filling Bill in quickly. The kid (who was already frowning as he came out) got an even-worse scowl, and marched past Stan almost immediately after he was done talking. Stan had almost a smirk going, as he turned away and made his own way up onto the porch, to watch them all from there. (The kid wasn’t ‘cleared’ to be babysitting the twins on his own for Stan as part of this whole new penalty thing yet, so Stan wasn’t going to go completely all the way back inside. Didn’t mean Stan couldn’t pull out his crossword puzzle and not listen much, as the two demon-kids went at it with each other, talking.)

Bill stopped right in front of Miz and looked down at her, putting his hands on his hips. He did not look happy with her. (Partly because she'd 'snuck out' and downstairs without him having realized it, for her to have been around Stanley alone -- he did NOT trust Stanley with her that far! _no!_ not one bit! -- but mainly he was upset with her because…)

"THERE ARE BETTER WAYS," he intoned at her, fully aware of how hearing thoughts could be used to one's advantage. --He _also_ knew how very badly things could go if that was something one over-depended upon for one's safety.

Miz flinched back in mild guilt.

"Did you already fix it?" Bill asked her. "With your headband, or something else? Or are you working on it and still need some help with that?"

"I have it sealed off, like my Empathy now, too," Miz confirmed.

"Amplitude, range, and depth," Bill demanded of her next. "General characteristics also. And describe your control over that sense, too," ‘ _or LACK thereof_ ’ was implied by Bill's continuing and deepening glower.

"Around 80 to 180 Hz, around 30 meters unless there’s some sort of obstacle in the way, just surface/public thoughts that they’re thinking out loud." Miz listed off. "And it’s pretty much like listening with ears, I hear it if it’s nearby but I can’t dig in to hear more if they aren’t publicly broadcasting it without having to use my powers to actively do so."

Bill gritted his teeth. "Give a relative metric-example for 80Hz to 180Hz, in 1 Hz changes of amplitude, of ‘thought noise’," Bill said. "Define: 'obstacle’. Define: ‘surface’ and 'public’ for humans and other species that are _not_ considered telepathic," Bill said, and he sounded like he was gaining steam at that point, "and _do you have ANY IDEA what would have happened to you if I didn't COMPLETELY WALL OFF my OWN thoughts from external perception?_ " Bill damn near shrieked out at her at the last, fists clenched at his sides. He was actually shaking in place.

Mabel was looking back and forth between the two as they talked. She didn’t really get what they were saying but Dipper would probably want to know later.

Miz opened her mouth and let out a quick scale of melody from quiet to loud, just above a whisper and just below a shout. Then she responded, "Walls, doors, anything blocking me away from them. Though, I can hear through them if I’m standing really close and they’re standing really close. Surface thoughts are quick things like ‘I wonder what I should have for lunch’ and public would be stuff that they might want to say out loud but haven’t bothered to." Miz quieted. "And I’ve heard mental screaming before. I CAN block it out, like covering my ears or ignoring them." She winced, shuffled her feet against the ground. Except that she would have to _keep_ covering her mental equivalent of ears to do that and she had to put her ‘hands’ down eventually. The headband was like having ear plugs she could wear on and around her head, instead.

Bill was trying to damp and tamp down his anger, but it wasn't going well. He closed his eyes and pulled in a harsh breath. (He didn’t like that he’d been in the middle of meditating, and hadn’t been able to stop what he’d been doing so easily. He hadn’t actually finished everything he’d needed to do completely yet, he’d had to rush it to get himself downstairs for this, and he was still feeling a bit like a jangled sort of mess.)

(He also didn’t like that he hadn’t noticed Miz go downstairs, or that she’d spent so much time on her own with Stanley. She just didn’t seem to understand how much of a threat Stanley really was and could be, to either of them. And he didn’t understand _why_ \--)

In a rush he cut off rather abruptly at the end by literally clacking his teeth together, Bill said: "Physical blocks only? As in, in the Mindscape there is nothing getting in the way?"

Miz nodded. "I can hear whoever I can see while I’m in the Mindscape." Because it was so quiet there that thoughts were incredibly loud.

Bill still had his eyes closed. He still had his fists clenched and he was still shaking. "Are those characteristics for when you are passively or actively listening." (The more he heard, the less he liked…)

"Passive. Active listening requires my powers to come into effect." Miz clarified. "Which I don’t really bother with unless I’m trying to find out information."

Bill opened his eyes and stared right at her.

"How many telepathic and telempathic individuals have you been within range of hearing in this lifetime," Bill demanded of her next. "Total in terms of species, and total number of individuals that you _know_ you were hearing, of that subset." Bill wasn't really wanting to know or bothering to ask about the timeframe as to how long she'd spent around them. To him, that was almost a trivial question, given the risk she’d (most likely _not_ ) been dealing with ( _properly_ ) at large.

Miz tilted her head in thought. "27394 different species… around? There are lots of species that don’t have mouths or ears so they project their thoughts around. And total number of people I’ve met or ‘listened’ to who could ‘listen’ back is… 5482724?"

"Not listened back. Able to project," Bill corrected her tersely.

"4223721." Miz responded. Mabel was starting to get a headache from all the huge numbers.

"Does that include those other Bills that you have met?" Bill asked her, and the almost sweet change in tone was very jarring, especially when his eyes looked as full of anger as they remained.

"... yes?" Miz said slowly. She could tell Bill was mad, but wasn’t quite sure why. Bill pulled in a breath. He let it out. He rocked back on his heels again, then settled on them.

"Do you know," Bill told her in almost conversational tones, "I do believe you have given me a reason to CAGE YOU HERE FOREVER and never let you go." He stared at her without blinking. "Would you like to know WHY that is, Miz?" She nodded slowly. Mabel backed up a little.

Bill glared at her. "Because you are _apparently_ \--" Bill twisted in place slightly, and he clamped down on what he was about to say, closing his eyes and letting out only a mere hiss of breath instead. He was clearly having difficulty not unloading his anger on her at-present.

He stood there and breathed heavily for awhile, and it took him awhile before he seemed able to try again (He couldn’t stop right now and put this off, this was dangerous and this was important for her to know and understand _RIGHT NOW_. He _had_ to--) "You are Mind. A being of pure energy and thought. You KNOW this! Yes?" Bill said quietly, opening his eyes again. Miz nodded meekly.

"Good. SO glad we're on the same page!" Bill gritted out, his teeth more bared than they were grinning. "Do you know what it takes to override one thought with another?" Bill asked her next. Miz blinked, understanding what he meant.

"They can’t override my thoughts." She wiggled. "I’m stubborn. And stronger than that. I keep my own thoughts."

That didn’t really make Bill feel any better. "Stubbornness isn’t going to CUT IT." He did NOT trust whatever her definition of 'stubbornness’ was, not one bit.

"I’m fine." Miz protested. "I’ve been fine all this time. I haven't had any issues with other people directly changing my mind about stuff by literally changing my thoughts." She whined. "I DO actually know how to take care of myself!"

Bill scowled at her over this. "No, you DON'T know that! CLEARLY you DON’T!" Because she was CLEARLY _missing_ the POINT!

Mabel sighed. "Um, guys?" The two demons paused and turned to her. "Bill, you’re worried about her, sure, but she’s met a lot of other people who do mind stuff and she’s still okay, right?" Miz nodded. Bill glowered. (That WASN'T what he'd--) Mabel continued, "And have any of these other people ever tried to change your thoughts?"

Miz scoffed. "They can project all they want. I can hear them but it doesn't affect me. Hearing thoughts isn't the same as with my Empathy. It's just hearing. It's not absorbing. And it's not overwriting. It's hearing the same way a human hears with sound waves but without the sound. So the only way people's thoughts can change my thoughts is if they manage to convince me through actual debate and I _choose_ to change my own mind."

"That’s _not--!!!_ " Bill let out an angry chittering sound, stomping around in place in a small circle. "--They're different modalities!" he spat out finally, managing to keep it in English. "Emotion is like-- like _eating_ for you, and affects the equivalent of your 'body’, _that_ substructure," Bill told her. He was still pacing. "Thought is like… it's _Mind_ ," Bill said, "On the same level as interacting with your-- YOU," he tried to explain, except he was trying to equate human existence to Mindscape existence and he _knew_ he wasn't going to be able to get things across completely this way. "Emotion is subversive-below, because it has lower effects, but you are Mind, and you are not tied to your 'body’ in the same way as having a physical body and no means to pull yourself into the Mindscape does." Bill was getting frustrated at how inaccurate he was having to be in explaining things this way, but there wasn't a better way to put it in the immediate moment. "But it's not the same. Hearing thoughts is… you said it is like hearing with sound waves but without the sound. But you are Mind. With your 'body', it is like hearing with sound waves but YOU are ALSO made of sound waves! It is all the same thing! You MAY have a translation process in-between, _maybe_ ," not that Bill knew what that translation process was right now, if she actually had one.

"But you are NOT good at boundaries!" Bill told her, looking both angry and anxious. "And you don't KNOW that the thoughts you are Hearing are not impacting you in some way. Sounds impact humans, even if they try to ignore them! And Stanley told me that you can't even tell the difference between whether something is spoken-aloud or thought sometimes! --How do you KNOW that the thoughts you are hearing are not impacting you in some way? How do you KNOW that the thoughts inside your Mind are all your own?! --‘Being stubborn’ is not enough! How do you KNOW that that stupid lizard of yours is not more stubborn than YOU?" Bill asked her, irritated and angry, because to his thinking, the stupid lizard might have FORCED thoughts upon her with little to no effort in this way. "You didn't know the full impact of emotion on you, or the problems it was causing -- you didn't even think about it until we talked about it. How are you _so certain_ that you know the impact of thought? Have you ever even _THOUGHT_ about it before?" Bill demanded of her.

Miz sighed, rubbing her head. "Well, I’ve been around you and the Pines and even hundreds of teenagers at that school," (-- _that_ wasn't making Bill feel any better; rather, very much the opposite! --) "and even when people like that Thomas person had thoughts about wanting to take me to the cool kids place and do ‘cool kid stuff’ with me, I had no desire to do so. His thoughts and the other people, didn’t affect me. I just hear them. But I know they’re not me, I know they’re not MY thoughts," Miz protested. "Brother, please, I know my whole… empathy thing was a huge issue, and I KNOW I fucked up on that front, but this, this is not like that! I’m…" She took a deep breath, to try and calm down. "I’m fine, big brother. I’m not gonna go around getting messed up from hearing thoughts. I can handle this. I have been handling it for over 600 billion years." She frowned and rubbed her head again. "I’m fine. Can’t you trust me on this? I’m not afraid to admit when I’ve fucked up. The empathy thing, yeah, I fucked up. But other people’s thoughts changing who I AM? I’m not going to let something like that happen. It DOESN’T happen with me!"

She huffed. "And I can't hear Ax or Time Baby's thoughts so I'm not picking anything up from them anyway." Miz wasn't sure what the real issue here was. She wasn't changed by other people's thoughts, though sometimes she would go along with them just to make things go more smoothly.

"You don't KNOW that," Bill said, sounding stressed. "All you _know_ is that when you're around them, you only hear thoughts that you _THINK_ are _your thoughts!_ " he told her, half-hysterically. "If you can't hear anything around them that you think is _not-you_ , and they're thinking when you're around them, then they're either _shielding_ so well that nothing leaks out, or they're _blocking_ what you're doing somehow! And doing either of those means that they are BETTER at handling thought than you! Which means that they COULD be making you think that _their_ thoughts _are yours_ , by making them 'sound’ like YOU to you!" Bill stressed to her. "And that's not even getting into the impact of other-people's-thoughts on you, when you KNOW they're not yours!"

Miz sighed. "I have protections!" she protested.

"You _split_ yourself," Bill told her. "And you communicate between yourselves. --You have a pathway from the outside-in from which you accept signals-and-thoughts that you think that are yours. How do you KNOW that someone has not been WATCHING YOU and has HACKED that!?" Bill was almost jittering in place by this point. " _ **I**_ wouldn’t even know that!" Bill told her. "Not _for certain!_ \--Which is why I **NEVER** do that!!"

Miz frowned at this, but she didn't really have anything to say to defend herself.

"--It's _dangerous_ to do that!" Bill told her. "Even if you 'split’ yourself _'properly’_ , you **can't tell** whether what's coming in from outside-you is _really_ something that is from **YOU** or not. And that's the very most- _basic_ of checks! _\--Did this originate from **inside** my own boundary or not?_" he told her, looking half-desperate as he tried to explain. It was why he didn’t do that himself; not as anything more than a vision-based optical _illusion_ , anyway. And as far as Bill was concerned, that was NOTHING LIKE the same thing! "It's hard enough as it is to be always-noticing when your boundaries are being impinged, and you are TERRIBLE at _boundaries_ right now!" he told her, truly concerned -- because she _barely_ had any practice at even-that!

Miz thought about it. "I can tell the difference between others and myself. I'm not incorporating their thoughts into my Being in such a way…" She wouldn't allow that.

" _ **You don't know that!**_ " Bill repeated, then decided to add another concept to the mix besides the _very-real_ problem of ‘mimicry’ that she'd been leaving herself open to. Because when it came to the incorporation of other-thoughts… "There are _also_ direct-effects like a punch -- except _not_ a-punch -- that can affect things immediately," Bill told her in all seriousness. "And then there are indirect-effects that _don't_ seem to affect you, that set up growing resonances for you LATER -- like being spun in place and then falling dizzy to the ground when you try to take a step moving ‘forward’. Short-term; long-term."

"But I've got protections. I'm fine." Miz insisted.

"Protections that stop internal resonances from happening?" Bill questioned her, leaning in. " _Do_ you?"

Miz crossed her arms. "Yes, I'm sure. But if you really want to check, we could test it…"

"--I don't _have_ to ‘check’, and risk changing you unnecessarily," Bill told her, "I ALREADY KNOW. --You _can't_ stop all internal resonances all on your own," he informed her, crossing his own arms, "Because you STILL have that PTSD!"

"That was from experiencing trauma…" Miz sighed. She didn't think that counted as the same thing.

Bill gave her a long flat look.

And then he opened his mouth and said, "And if you were in a fight with someone, and they thought at you _exactly how they were about to chain you down and do that to you right then_ , how would you react?"

Miz stiffened. "I wouldn't let them. I would blast them as far away from me as possible." She rubbed her arm.

Bill leaned in a little more. "And if that were the _DISTRACTION?_ " he questioned her next. "Because if that happens, and you are ‘handling’ things that way, you are attacking the person thinking that at you could-or-couldn't do it, almost _thoughtlessly_. --And while you were freezing and distracted and blasting _them_ , the **other** person," Bill grated out next, "A person _who you can't hear_ , is actually finishing up what they are needing to do, to do _that_ to you, themselves. -- _What then?_ " he asked her. "-- **That's** changing your thoughts. And then your changed-thoughts change your actions to **re** actions. And _that_ ," Bill told her, "Is how you get yourself _caught_ , all over again." And Bill did not look particularly pleased with her just then.

Miz pouted. "But they could say it out loud via air vibrations and I'd still react the same way."

"YES!" Bill said. "Thoughts can be transmitted in many ways! --But you’re _missing the point_ ," he stressed to her. "Someone can, _right now_ , have you reacting reflexively in the way _they_ want you to react, just by a little bit of pre-planning, in _two ways_ \-- by thought _or_ by hearing -- when ONE way is already _one way too many!_ That's _**dangerous**_ to you!" he told his little sister. "I **DON’T** want you _getting hurt!!_ "

Miz wilted. "Then what am I supposed to do?" 

"--Outthink them first," Bill told her promptly. "Blast _everywhere_ AT THE SAME TIME as you **run!** \--Always have an exit strategy. _Always_ think of every scenario _first!_ Look ahead, and behind, and plan for needing contingencies. --Thinking in short timescales is the wrong way to go about it. Reaction, tactics, strategy. _You need all three._ " (Because, as far as Bill was concerned, his and everyone else's life was a constant warzone with enemy combatants everywhere, whether they realized it or not.)

Miz slowly nodded. She was starting to get an idea of just how difficult her brother's life had been. Enemies on all sides, always having to fight and defend himself. Being unable to trust anyone. No wonder he was paranoid.

"Plan for the worst that you can handle, and think about how to handle the worse-even-than-that until you have thought-and-planned-and-practiced-and-learned how to handle that, too," Bill told her. "Be suspicious of the best; _don't_ just take it at face-value on-Sight. Plan to take advantage of the everything-in between -- not just ‘the best’, but also ‘the middling’ and ‘the mediocre’ and ‘the worst’ -- but _never_ count on being able to keep any of it," Bill told her, imparting all-in-one go what he considered to be a good chunk of the sum of his hard-learned life’s wisdom. " _THAT_ just gets you into trouble, sooner-before-later."

Miz thought about it. It sounded like a very stressful way to live. "Am I too trusting…" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Bill told her promptly. "But so am I. --It's a common failing in all beings, trusting when you really really shouldn't!" he shrugged off. "I have to remind _myself_ not to do that, sometimes!"

(Mabel was listening to all this with wide eyes. She kind of wished that Grunkle Ford was outside with them, hearing this. Did he know that Bill thought like this? Did Grunkle Stan? They'd all been listening in on what Bill had told Grunkle Stan a couple of weeks ago, repeating something out loud to her grunkle that he'd written to somebody else in another dimension about not trusting other people, not ever, but… Bill had talked like he'd never trusted _anyone_ before, when he'd done that. But the dream demon thought he trusted too _much?_ )

Miz fiddled with the end of her hair. "But always assuming the worst of people is a lonely way to live…" She liked to stay positive, she HAD to stay positive.

Bill blinked at her. "Yes?" he said. "Counterpoint: it keeps you alive to be _able_ to be lonely, until you don't have to be lonely anymore."

"Being lonely was what made me not want to be alive…" Miz admitted. (Mabel's eyes widened, and she glanced over at Grunkle Stan quickly, _really_ wishing that he was over here, and not so far away that he really couldn’t hear them, what they all were saying, because...)

(Grunkle Stan looked up at them all with a slight frown, and Mabel bit her lip, not sure if she should wave at him to come over or not…)

Bill blinked at his sister. "Well." He blinked again. "Well." He looked a little uncomfortable. "Well… You weren't thinking that you were getting your brother back, or anyone else, before." Bill wasn't sure **what** he would have done, if he hadn't had that thought to keep him angry and screaming, to keep driving him. "You know that you don't have to be lonely anymore, yes? It is not an always-and-forever state of being," Bill said slowly. "You know that now."

Miz sighed. "I know that NOW. But I didn't know that THEN." And it just wasn't like she was going to be able to just be suspicious of everything all the time. It wasn't something she was used to doing for herself, by herself. She generally relied on her Empathy and Thought sense to see if people were a threat.

Bill smiled and relaxed a bit. "But you know that _now!_ " he said a bit more brightly. "Being lonely-forever-after-again isn't a worst-thing that you need to plan for, because it will never happen!" he told her.

Miz smiled a little. "Well, that IS good to know."

"Yes!" said Bill, grinning. "That means that all you REALLY need to do is plan for what to do if you start thinking that you might be lonely-forever-again- _maybe_." Bill paused. "And do you know what to do if you start to do that?" he asked her leadingly. (Mabel glanced between them, unsure as to what the dream demon might say to her next.)

Miz bit her lip. "Not sure…" She felt like maybe there was something wrong with her if she couldn't even think of something like that.

"Well, _I_ am sure!" Bill told her. "--You come to see ME!" he told her, tossing his arms out to his sides, and grinning even more widely. "And then we can do the hugging-thing, which you like. And then you can feel better." He nodded. (Bill had learned that one from his brother, and bedtime stories, and not wanting to be alone -- and then not having to be, because you had a sibling right there and nearby! HAHA! ...Well, not the hugging-thing which Miz liked, since they hadn’t had arms ~~not like that other dimension that he’d Seen, with the triangle that was him but wasn’t-him, with a Liam that was Liam, but wasn’t-Liam~~ , but the rest of it was something he'd learned well from his big-brother Liam doing it for him.)

Miz blinked. Oh. She smiled. "The hugging thing would be good." She stepped a bit closer to him. "I'm glad I found you." She raised her hands and let Bill decide if he wanted to hug her.

"I’m glad you found me, too!" Bill told her. "I did not know I wanted a little sister until I had one," Bill told her in all honesty, then looked around inquisitively at her hands and arms and their placement. She was holding them a little differently than the day before, so it took him a moment to figure out the hands-thing she was doing here this time, what that was communicating-and-implied (yes, the same thing?), and then he stepped forward inside her reach.

Miz didn't hold him tightly, just pressing herself into his chest and sighing at the feeling of it. She missed snuggles.

It took Bill another long moment to figure out what (he wanted) to do, since she'd moved in so quickly to him first, and then he raised one arm to wrap it lightly around her shoulders. His other hand, he raised up to half-pet and half-stroke her on top of her head a few times.

"You are very good at the hugging," Bill informed Miz. "Good job!" (Miz giggled at this. "You're good at this too." "Yes, I AM! HA!")

Mabel watched their _very_ awkward sibling hug (even more awkward than the previous day) and couldn't help but wonder if, maybe, Bill having a sister was the nicest thing that'd ever happened to him…?

Well, if Bill believed he’d had a brother and lost him... and then went through a bazillion years or something all alone while believing that he couldn't trust anyone at all…? Yeah. Mabel thought having a sister was good for him. --Good for both of them, if what she was picking up from them being with each other was right.

"Also-also," Bill said next (while still hugging his little sister), with a bit of an evil tenor sliding into his tone. "I have now almost-changed you, with my thoughts! Which I have said out loud. Because I am THE WORST! --I win! And I am very good at being all sneaky with the thought-testing!" he told Miz with a grin. "--Which was a working thought that you should still listen to, though," he told Miz a tad more seriously, looking down at her. "I picked a good one to introduce very-carefully, this you-coming-to-me-again one," he confirmed to her rather explicitly.

Miz giggled. "Not all thought changes are bad." she pointed out. "And I will come to see you whenever I feel lonely."

"Yes. Good," Bill agreed. "Still have to be careful, though. Don't want to incorporate anything harmful to you, that is not consistent with you." He petted her gently on top of her head again a few more times.

"I don't think I can be suspicious of everyone all the time though." Miz admitted, a little embarrassed that she wasn't… able to do so.

And at this, Mabel carefully spoke up: "I think it's good to not be suspicious of everyone."

"HA!" Bill scoffed at Shooting Star, while patting Miz's head. "If YOU _were_ , then you NEVER would have gone on that date with the living ventriloquist dummy in the first place!" he told Shooting Star as he continued his patting. "Think on _that_ one for awhile, maybe!" His sister was purring softly as she relaxed into his arms. (Mabel frowned at him a little bit for that one.)

"HM. ...You could try being a _LITTLE_ suspicious of everyone _most_ of the time, first?" Bill told his little sister next. She didn't have to be excellent at it right away, after all. She could work her way up to it. "Every little bit of extra-thinking helps makes you more-safe!"

Miz nodded with a small frown. "I'll try…" Odd how she was getting a stranger-danger lecture from her brother. She already knew stranger-danger, she'd just… kinda forgotten to do stuff about it since she was immortal and didn't have to worry about getting killed anymore… Though maybe she should actually care more about that now.

"Sometimes, the easiest way to kill someone is to convince them to kill themselves," Bill told her, rather purposefully. (He was, in fact, worried that that might be the case with that stupid ‘dad’ lizard from her own dimension, or her Time Baby ‘brother’ who wasn’t really a _brother_ to her at all! Because if they rejected _her_ before _she_ rejected _them_ first...) "It is also one of the WORST ways to die. -- **DON'T** fall for it," he warned her quite seriously, unconsciously pulling her just a little bit closer as he told her this. Miz winced. It seemed like brother was REALLY upset about her… suicidal tendencies...

"...I’ll try…" Miz murmured into his shirt.

Mabel was pulling at her sweater, eyes wide. If what she could understand from this all was accurate, Miz had… had wanted to _die_ , because she’d been sad, so sad and lonely that… and Bill didn’t want Miz to die. Bill was… _worried_ about her.

Mabel really wished that Grunkle Stan was over here. (And she was starting to wonder if maybe this was why he wanted her and Dipper with him or Soos or Melody pretty much all the time, because when the demons were around and talking… she just _didn’t_ know what to do when they were talking about stuff like this!)

Still, it looked like the demons were about done talking about this, and Mabel breathed a little sigh of relief as she wondered if she should tell Dipper that having Bill as a brother was actually probably a good thing for Miz? Because wanting to die, no matter who or what you were, wasn’t a good thing. So if Bill could keep Miz from feeling like that, then it was really a good thing. Even if he was terrible most of the time to other people still, this was something that...

Mabel bit her lip and played with the ends of her sweater sleeves, feeling a little uncomfortable about herself as she realized… had she really just been thinking about trying to use Bill’s connection with his sister to make him care more about other people? And was that okay for her or anyone else to do? Because that felt… kind of manipulative, or something. And… (She _really_ needed to talk to Grunkle Stan about all of this, later.)

After a bit, Miz and Bill broke up their hug and Miz sighed. "Well, do you think I’m allowed back in the house yet?"

"HA! _'Allowed'_..." Bill scoffed out at that particular word choice a bit. "You have your Thoughts-hearing sealed up now, like your Emotion-sensing, yes?" Bill asked, already knowing the answer, but confirming it for Shooting Star anyway. Miz nodded. "Then yes. Let's go back inside."

Miz put her cuffs back on, and Mabel followed them two of them both back to the porch, and then back inside (with Grunkle Stan taking a grunkly amount of time getting to his feet to follow her in after). The teenager was biting her lip. It… it didn’t… really _feel_ fair that Miz was being forced to… shut down parts of herself all the time? She wasn’t… Miz wasn’t even as _bad_ as Bill, except with Grunkle Ford, and Miz had been doing a lot better at leaving him alone the last couple of days.

Stan caught up to them about the point that they all stopped and sat down at the table in the kitchen again, where Miz and Mabel had both been before they’d all left to take care of things outside, and then needed to come on back in again. He grunted out, "Is it handled?" to the kid, just to make sure of things. Bill nodded, not looking all that happy about everything on the whole, but also not TOO upset. (Okay, fine.) Miz looked pretty down. Enough so that Stan watched her for a bit longer, trying to figure out whatever the new problem was _now_ , exactly.

Mabel was busy being contemplative herself, too.

"...Hey, Grunkle Stan? Can I talk to you? ...Um, alone? Just you and me?" Mabel asked him.

Stan raised an eyebrow. Had Mabel heard something while she out there with the demons? "Sure, pumpkin." He got up and followed Mabel out to the living room, out of earshot (and thought-shot?) of the demons. Actually, with Miz’s apparent dragon-hearing, Stan moved a little farther, just in case.

"What’s wrong?" Stan asked as soon as they were far enough, settling down to sit in his sofa chair in front of the TV to be more comfortable about it. Mabel was biting her lip.

"It makes me feel a little bad that Miz has to keep sealing off bits of herself just to ‘fit in’," she said simply. "Isn’t that… kind of bad?" It felt too much like… they were forcing her to conform and not be ‘herself’. "She said that her thoughts-hearing thing is something she used to do all the time when she was a triangle, right? So isn’t making her not do that, like… making someone have to go deaf just so that other deaf people would feel more comfortable being around them?" she asked.

Stan furrowed his brow at this, and then sighed. "Sweetie, it ain't like that," he told her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "This is more like…" He searched around for a better analogy than 'wrapping duct tape around her middle, to make sure her insides stay in and everything outside and nasty stays out’. "...Y'know how you like to tupperware things up in the fridge? It's like… she's gotta stick herself in one of those plastic containers, with maybe a colored lid so she can't go looking into other containers by accident, or nothin’. And so if stuff spills out in there in the fridge? She won't get any of that other stuff or any weird odors in there with her, that might have her feelin’ not so great and even kinda sick maybe. Okay?"

Mabel still looked a little belligerent at this, though, so Stan sighed and told her next, "She'd be getting hurt by this other stuff if she didn't do this, pumpkin. She kept getting Ford's 'angry' feelings in her before, and it ain't right for her to be runnin' around reading other people's thoughts and getting all angry about them herself. Ford's got a right to keep what's in his head, _inside_ his head, and to himself. It's like she's prying open other people's containers almost, without even trying," Stan told her.

"But she says that listening feels normal for her, though," Mabel objected, worried at the way Miz had been talking about things earlier within her hearing. Like she wasn’t able to breathe right at all. Mabel knew that it would be bad if Miz kept hearing all their thoughts and stuff, but she also thought it might be really bad if Miz had to keep making herself ‘deaf’ to all of them, too. And she didn’t know how to solve it or make it better, which was even worse!

"Look, pumpkin, even if it feels 'more normal’ for her, that don't mean it _is_ normal for her, or should be," Stan told her. "She was doing that stuff when she was around other triangles or shapes and stuff. Humans don’t do that, and she didn't used to do that either back when she was human too, even if that was a really long time ago for her. Because a lot of her used-to-be-human stuff still carried over." Like the allergies thing in the bodies she kept making. "That ain't somethin' we like to have happenin’, or can handle all that real well, and I'm pretty sure that she can't actually handle hearing other people’s thoughts all that well, either. ...Heck, the kid's concerned that she's been hurting herself doing this, even." Stan sighed, and tried to explain the privacy thing another way, worried that that might be part of the issue. Because if Mabel wasn’t getting _that_... "You wouldn’t like it if Miz could just hear what you were thinking _all_ the time, right? Every last little embarrassing thought? Even if you only felt mad or sad or scared for a little bit?" Stan explained patiently.

Mabel huffed. "So is eavesdropping on other people’s conversations, but people do that all the time, too. Her thing is just… more intense eavesdropping." After all, she’d said that it was only supposed to be stuff that they were _almost_ saying out loud, right? How much stuff could she possibly be hearing that _wouldn’t_ be okay, then? --And yeah, it had been weird and startling when she’d been doing it in the kitchen, but...

"What are you saying here, Sweetie?" Stan asked. "Because we’re not gonna let her keep on listening in on us, even if you think it feels unfair. I just told you why." Hell, he really hoped he was misunderstanding her here. Ford would _freak_ if he found out. "Why do you feel that way about it, anyway?"

Mabel shrugged. "I dunno." And she really _didn’t_ know. It wasn’t like she _wanted_ Miz to be spying on her, or Dipper, or Grunkle Ford, but... "I just... feel bad for her. And I guess, I just maybe want to do... something nice for her?" Mabel tried next. Because Miz wasn't like Gideon or Bill; she actually seemed to be _trying_ to be a better person! And maybe Mabel couldn’t fix _this_ particular thing, but... "She’s been trying really hard to be good. She didn’t even get mad at Grunkle Ford this morning when he stepped on one of her origami animals by accident! --We're supposed to be doing positive reinforcement for Bill because he's a demon; shouldn't we be doing it for her, too?"

...Yeah, they should. And he’d been _trying_ to. Stan grimaced as he remembered what had happened this morning: Miz and Mabel had made a bunch of animals and littered them around the Shack. Ford had been walking around with his nose in a book and crushed a fox under his big old ‘adventuring’ boots, without even realizing it at first.

At the time, Miz had let out a soft, distressed whine, but when Bill had reared up angrily at Ford for it, it was Miz who’d stopped her brother and told him that it was just an accident. And Bill had backed down easily, didn’t even give Ford any caustic comments about being ‘too self-absorbed to pay attention to where he puts his feet’ (even if the kid glared daggers at him and made it clear from his expression that that was what he'd been thinking; it was still progress). Stan sighed.

"Yeah, I guess they have been on mostly-good behavior lately. --Doesn't mean you should be giving her the 'okay' to be reading your every last thought, though," Stan told her with a smile, ruffling her hair a little bit, which made her giggle. "Alright, well. We could do something _else_ for 'em, though. You got any ideas on that besides a bunch of eavesdropping stuff?"

"I don’t know." Mabel sighed. "But... Miz has been stuck in the house for a while, with the cuffs on and everything. ...Maybe we could take her out somewhere? She mentioned that she wanted to see the town." Frankly, Mabel was surprised the other girl hadn’t gone stir crazy from being stuck in the house. She and Dipper had been going a little stir crazy from their grounding already! At least the week was almost over, so sweet, sweet freedom was just around the corner. (Well, assuming that Grunkle Stan didn’t make them stay at the Shack for _another_ week on top of that. Otherwise, she and Dip-Dop were gonna have to resort to desperate measures...)

Stan paused at that. Going out into the town? He'd been trying to get the kid to do that for awhile, but he'd always objected because…

Actually… yeah. If he maybe… then… and then _the kid_ would...

Stan’s smile slowly morphed into a grin. (Oh, _this_ was gonna be good.)

"...You know what, pumpkin? I think that’s actually a pretty good idea," Stan told her. After all, he _did_ want the kid (and his kid sister) interacting with other normal humans more. (...Well, mostly-normal. Heh. --He’d take what he could get.) Would probably be good to have them socialized around more people, especially the ones down in town. Get the locals all used to them being up here at the Shack with them. And if Stan convinced Miz into wanting to go into town… well, the kid wouldn't leave her alone to go anyplace with just _Stan_ , so… This wasn’t a bad idea at all.

The only problem with this was… "You and your brother are still on 'house arrest', though," Stan said, eyeing her. "We’d need to be doing this today, if we were making this a ‘reward’ for mostly-good behavior. You wouldn't be coming along with us if we did this."

Mabel nodded. "Yeah, that’s… that’s fine. That’s fine..." It wasn’t fine, she really wanted to go with them, too. But it was more important that Grunkle Stan do the positive reinforcement thing with the two of them, right? "But be sure to take lots of pictures and send them to me, okay~?" Stan chuckled at her, at that.

"Alright, I guess me and Ford are going out to lunch in town with the demons," Stan told her, as he rose to his feet -- because, just as there was no way the kid would be staying here while his sister went into town without him _with Stan_ , there was no way he was going into town with the demons without Ford demanding to be tagging along, too. Then Stan grinned. "Maybe head to the diner, say hi to Susan while we’re there."

Mabel smiled. "Would they like that?" she asked, bouncing a little in place.

Stan shrugged. "Heh, I’m sure Miz would like to try out some of the food they’ve got there. She really likes eating new stuff."

"Tell Lazy-Eye Susan hi’ for me!" Mabel told her favorite grunkle, as Stan waved the two demons to follow him out of the kitchen. And Mabel skipped along in hot pursuit as Stan left the room, and the demons trailed behind him, as he walked his way up to Ford’s bedroom door and knocked on it.

\---

It took awhile to explain things to the lot of them. Stan started off with asking Miz what she thought of going out to eat at the diner in town, and it was all pretty much downhill from there.

Ford had a hell of a lot of (not so great) things to say about this plan (as did the kid). But Ford was hampered in his ability to be too vocal about it (read: curse in front of them all with Mabel standing right there and listening in), and Stan stood his ground on it. While Stan was ‘distracting’ his brother, Mabel jumped in with talking up the diner to Miz, and once Miz seemed absolutely delighted at the idea of going there for lunch…

...Bill (very grumbling) went along with it, and Ford was pretty much blackmailed into going along with things once again. He was all-but-forced to follow along as they all walked into town, just as he had been when Stan had decided to make that trip to that out of town warehouse store with the demons, prior.

(And Ford was not very comforted by his brother’s, "C’mon, Ford. They didn’t blow up anything or kill anybody or their dog in the other dimension. They walked home from the high school just fine for a week. ...Heck, there’s not even any mob-types here.")

Ford was watching the demons warily, shooting glances at the oblivious townspeople around them as two demons walked amongst them, unrecognized for what they were and completely unhindered...

(...though not unnoticed or unremarked-upon -- largely because, whenever they saw someone, Stan stopped and made it a point to introduce the demons to them for some reason.)

(And every. Single. Time. The person Stan was talking to said something along the lines of, "Oh, _this_ is who you were talking about!" when it came to introducing Bill _first_. _Laying groundwork_ , his...)

("Yup, this is the kid, alright. --Kid, say hi. And this is his little sister, Miz. Miz, say hi.")

Miz was looking around at everything and everyone as they walked down the side of the roadway. Since they couldn’t take the car, they were hiking their way into town instead. (It wasn’t _that_ far and they all could use a little exercise and fresh air anyway.) Miz was running about as Mabel usually did, except Miz was touching literally _everything_ as she went -- the trees, the flowers, any animal that came close enough for her to chase down. Even the people.

At one point they passed Manly Dan carrying some logs on the road, and Miz went up to pet his arm (after asking if she could), marveling at how hairy they were. The lumberjack seemed pretty bemused at the tiny little girl "Oooh"ing at him as she ran her hands over the coarse ginger arm hairs. "A rough texture not unlike steel wool but without the threat of tetanus…"

Ford covered his face in embarrassment, while Stan just snorted.

"HEH. CUTE KID!" Manly Dan laughed before he’d waved to them all and walked off, easily carrying the logs over his shoulder. Miz waved at him cheerfully before continuing on. Stan had been holding back laughter even as Ford looked absolutely flabbergasted at Miz’s behavior.

"Forests look different when I’m _in_ them as opposed to flying through them. Damn glad this vessel wasn’t made to be allergic to the plants. Good job me for not doing that. Would have sucked. Also, that bug-away effect is working wonders! Then again, if any of these mosquitoes came near me they’d be killed mercilessly anyway…" Miz mumbled to herself as she continued skipping down along the path, and Ford twitched at her casual statement of insect murder (mainly because he knew that most demons considered humans little more than insects themselves…).

Then they made it into town, and had many of the townspeople greeting them jovially as they passed by.

Miz absolutely _lit up_ when she saw Tad Strange wave at Stan, though. "Looking good, Stan," the perfectly pleasant man said cheerfully to him.

Miz, who was used to Stan introducing them to people now, and having had positive experiences with several of the townsfolk here and now before this, didn’t hold back at all this time. She materialized a few sheets of paper behind her back, and then bounced and bounded right over to him.

"Hello! I’m Miz! You’re Tad Strange, right?" She was blushing and wiggling in place as she said this.

...And Bill got a very odd look on his face as he watched his sister do this, and recognized that she was suffering from what were _clearly_ some very-squirmy feelings all over again. Ugh. (...Well, at least they weren’t for that Stanford this time.)

Tad smiled down at the little girl before him. "Hello there. I don’t believe we’ve met." He wondered how this girl knew his name, but perhaps the Pines family had told her? Tad hadn’t seen her around town before; perhaps the Pines were introducing her to all the townspeople?

"Nope! We haven’t met! But we’re meeting now! Hi! I’m Miz!" The dragon-demon clutched the papers to her chest. "Um… um… I know we just met, but… if you’re not busy, can you read this aloud? Please?" She held out the papers to him with a shy expression.

Tad raised an eyebrow but didn’t see anything wrong with the request, and so he reached out to take them...

"-- _Wait!_ " Ford called out as he strode over to them. "Wait just a moment there, please. Let me check that out first--" He didn’t know what the man-eater was planning but he wasn’t going to let her trick some poor person into reciting some awful cursed spell or--

Ford took the papers from her and glanced over them, pausing for a moment when it appeared to be... a script?

_Welcome to Night Vale, episode one, pilot. A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep._

Ford looked down at Miz (who was pouting at him for ruining her fun) and raised an eyebrow. "What is this?"

"It’s the script for a podcast I really like. Mr. Strange’s voice sounds just like the man who hosts the show." Miz rolled her eyes at Ford. "I just wanted to hear him read it." And a few other things. Miz kinda hoped Ford didn’t read the rest of the papers, there were some… ahem, fanfiction she might have written concerning Cecil and his partner Carlos hidden in there too...

"It’s not explicit or anything! I wasn’t going to make poor Tad read out stuff like that! But it would have been nice to have some of the things on those papers audio saved in Cecil’s voice so I can replay them in my memories for fun!" Miz mumbled.

Ford was staring at the younger demon with a stern expression, trying to figure out what nefarious plans she was trying to enact. For her part, Miz was trying to not get mad at Ford for getting in the way of her innocent fun.

By this time, Stan (and Bill) had caught up with them both. "What’s the problem here?" Stan asked the both of them.

"She wants Mr. Strange to read these papers, for all we know they could be--" Ford didn’t finish that sentence, glancing over at the confused Tad who was wondering what was going on. Stan looked over at Miz with a questioning look. She sighed.

"I like the sound of his voice and wanted to record him saying things that I could replay and listen to later," Miz told them all simply.

Stan raised an eyebrow. "You… like the sound of Tad’s voice?" he deadpanned.

Miz blushed. She shuffled in place while playing with a lock of her hair. "He has a very _attractive_ voice." she seemed somewhat embarrassed to admit it.

And at this, Bill made a rather frustrated sound. "You get squirmy from _auditory_ as well as visual?" He not quite scowled down at her. Why did she keep leaving so many problematic things out of her explanations and things! --None of this had been on her list! _None of it!_ "Do I need to make you some earmuffs too?"

For his part, Tad placed a hand over his chest and laughed. "Ah, you like my voice miss? I’m quite flattered. But I need to go to work, so I’m sorry but I have to go. It was very nice to meet you, though." He patted Miz on the head, before turning and walking away. Miz sighed dreamily after him, and Stan couldn’t help but wonder if all young girls were like this; Mabel had certainly been a handful when she had been going through that boy-crazy phase all last summer.

Bill was thinking over how Miz had said she could get squirmy over people she hadn’t even met, and reassessing that thought when combined with his new knowledge that voices were a thing she could _also_ be attracted to. And Bill let out a sigh. "Come on, little sis." He strode over to steer her back on track, towards the diner.

Ford was following behind them, taking up the rear. He was still paging through the papers, trying to pick them apart for whatever hidden threat they might contain.

_Rubber ducky baby batter. She sells seashells by the seashore._ Ford flipped to the next page since this one all seemed to be tongue twisters. _Sometimes Carlos and I just stare into each other’s eyes. Sometimes Carlos and I hold each other as we pretend to sleep. Sometimes we actually sleep. I always wake up first so I could watch him wake up. Then I kiss him good morning. He appreciates that--_ Ford stared down incredulously at the words on this paper. Was the man-eater attempting to make Mr. Strange read out... a _romance_ novel???

While Ford was busy with his thoughts, their group arrived together in short order at Greasy’s Diner. The little bell above the door jingled as they went inside. Ford frowned and rolled up the papers, to stuff them into a coat pocket to look over in more detail (read: pick apart) later.

Lazy-Eye Susan looked up at their group from behind the counter and smiled. "Hey~ handsome!" she greeted Stan, who coughed and tried not to feel awkward about this.

Bill, meanwhile, strode right up to the counter, slapped his palms down on it and leaned forward and right up into Susan’s face.

" _I demand attention!_ " Bill, well, _demanded_ of her loudly.

And Bill stood there in that posture, seemingly expecting just that.

Ford’s eyes widened in horror and his jaw dropped. (And if anyone had thought to ask him later, he would have been hard put to say whether he had been more shocked, horrified, or just downright _embarrassed_ by ~~his former muse's~~ the demon's behavior.)

But Susan herself just let out a delighted laugh at Bill's antics here.

"Awww~ how sweet!" she cooed out at him, as she raised a manicured hand up to Bill's head, and started half-petting, half-scritching him, on the top of his blue-haired head. (Which left Ford feeling even more shocked and horrified, because--)

Bill didn't lash out at her, snapping at her verbally or otherwise. He didn't pull away from her, slapping at her hand and declaring offense, or an angry _'Don't touch me!!'_ , or anything of the sort.

What Bill did was…

...let her pet him. _Bill let her do it._ \--Yes, he seemed to blink and startled just a bit at the initial contact (just a very, very slight bit), but then…

He didn’t pull away or flinch or even look _uncomfortable_ **at all** with the treatment! Instead… after a few moments where he seemed to be 'just taking it' standing there and blinking-- (...Bill was actually spending this time determining what _specifically_ she was doing -- and _thought_ she was doing -- and then deciding whether or not he actually liked what she was doing or not…) 

\--Bill actually _relaxed_ into this treatment and the waitress’s touch, leaning into it slightly as his eyes slowly slitted closed, and his head and body sank lower… and lower… and _lower_...

...until his head was pillowed in his arms on the counter, and he looked so relaxed that he was about to slide off the edge of said counter as his legs relaxed even further almost out from under him…

\--and it was at this point, that Ford not quite leapt forward and got an arm under Bill's middle, to lift him up under an arm, pulling him out and back and away from the counter (before the demon slid himself off of the blasted thing and into a loose heap hitting the floor -- which would _surely_ cause exactly the sort of outburst that they would want to avoid--!).

And as Ford did so, performing that very necessary action -- that frankly, Ford thought _should_ have been his _brother's_ job, if he had even been trying at all -- Ford hurriedly told Susan, "I am _so_ sorry about that." Frankly, he didn't know why either Manly Dan _or_ Lazy-Eye Susan had put up with either of the demons' antics _at all_ , let alone to such an extent. (And frankly, he didn't quite understand either of their, what had seemed to be, wholly natural responses to those demons and their terribly-weird actions, either.)

Stan was just staring (and frowning) a bit, because… had Bill been _humming_ just then? (He was pretty sure the kid had been doing that always-getting-higher humming thing of his there, but _why?_ \--It had been damn well been there and audible, but the kid hadn't _looked_ all out of sorts and needing to 'retune' himself or whatever right then. He'd seemed relaxed instead. And that humming had sounded kind of… out of place, _almost?_ Except not?)

Miz pouted as Ford dragged (read: carried) a stirring (and starting to flail about and protest at Ford’s manhandling of him) Bill Cipher away from the counter. And now Miz went up to the counter herself and told Susan, "I want headpats too!" She pouted adorably up at Susan and the woman coo'ed before petting Miz as well. "Such friendly ones you are," the woman praised.

"Stop that." Ford hissed out at Miz, as he just about dumped Bill in the booth (already having regretted letting Stan talk him into this long since, before they'd even entered the diner). He turned towards her and glared at her ( _why wasn’t Stan handling this himself?!?_ ) until she pouted and stepped away from Susan, stomping over to sit across from -- and then next to -- Bill. (This particular peculiar seating arrangement occurred -- two demons on the same bench, Miz closest to the window, and Bill still sitting next to the aisle -- by way of Bill _somehow_ managing to get up and slide himself over into the other side of the booth, all without looking like he actually got up and walked over, somehow.)

Finally, once the two demons were stowed ‘safely’ away in the booth -- as safely as one could stow two demons away anyplace, that is -- Ford turned back to the waitress and apologized again (feeling rather responsible for the situation, as he hadn’t managed to talk Stan out of it at the house). "Truly, I'm very sorry for their dreadful behavior--"

Susan waved him off with a cheery smile. "Oh, don't be! They're such a delight! So very cute. _Very_ unique coloring on the larger one." Bill seemed to preen at this praise, while Ford blinked at this statement, now quite lost at this point.

"...Coloring?" Ford echoed.

"Well, yes!" Susan said with a smile.

"Coloring…" Ford repeated slowly. "You are praising, the coloring, of…"

"Of your cats!" Susan told him with a smile, and... Ford wondered if this was what going insane by way of full-blown auditory and visual hallucinations felt like. Perhaps by the speedy onset of ~~lack-of-sleep induced… no, it couldn’t be that, he’d been sleeping far more than usual~~ _demon-induced_ psychosis?

Stan cleared his throat. (Yeahhh, he wasn’t touchin’ that one. Especially since the demon-kids weren’t protesting it.)

"We’re gonna get lunch," Stan told Susan, and he grabbed a few menus from her before shuffling Ford off to the same booth themselves post-haste (before Ford could protest any of this anymore). Stan ended up sitting down at the outer edge, and Ford was stuck (read: trapped in place _real_ intentionally) up against the window, both of them on the other side of the booth across and away from the demon-kids.

It was about this point that Ford was starting to wonder _why_ none of the townsfolk were having any terribly-adverse reactions to the two demons as of yet, and he glanced over at Stan and opened his mouth to ask--

"--Kid," Stan asked the kid, (overriding his brother) as he opened his menu, and looking at the kid over it, "What's your filter thing making you look like to everybody else and their dog right now?" ...Did they really look like _cats_ to folks right now? Had to be just inside the diner just now if they were, right?

"I don't have any illusions or masking holograms up right now," the kid told him. "...except for what I'm using to make my suit 'invisible'," the kid added after a pause, "But that's more of a light-bending and -reproducing camouflage then anything else. It's just what it looks like," he finished explaining, for completeness. Then the kid stretched in place a bit quite casually and laid his head down on the table, head pillowed in his arms again and looking pretty content. ( _Really_ content, for a kid who was outright refusing to go into town for the last couple of weeks for any reason at all whatsoever, all things considered...)

Stan blinked at this. "You've got nothin' up right now?" He looked over at the dragon-lady, too.

"I don't have anything on except hiding my body-suit either." Miz shrugged. Then, picking up on what Stan was really asking without asking, added "We do not look like cats to other people."

"So…" Stan said, then trailed off. "You're lookin' like _you_ right now. --All female-human, I mean," Stan added, trying to avoid the whole, 'no, I'm a triangle' thing protest. "Two-color hair, cat eyes…" Stan trailed off at the ‘cat eyes’, leaving out the clothing, as he realized...

"Yes," Bill confirmed. He wasn’t using any illusions to hide his natural coloration or current looks, neither his hair nor his eyes. "How we look to you right now, is how we look to everyone else also." Stan glanced between them, and Miz and Bill nodded in unison to confirm to Stan that they weren’t doing anything strange to other people’s perceptions.

Stan let out a sigh. This town, he swore. ...Guess he shouldn’t be all _that_ surprised that Lazy-Eye Susan was actin' all… hell, she _was_ the kinda gal who’d have a really _wide_ definition of ‘cat’, he figured, but that didn’t explain...

As Stan was mulling over this (and Ford was freaking out internally slightly), Bill perked up and raised his head slightly, turning his face towards Susan as she walked past their booth, carrying some food for another table.

And as she passed their table, she did pause in place for a moment, to smile down at Bill and give him another head-scritching and then stroking-petting, before moving on. Miz was distracted reading the menu to see what she wanted, but then pouted as she realized she'd been passed by. She pouted at Bill, because Susan couldn't reach her as easily now, with her brother in the way, but she quickly lost the pout when Susan came back the other way and took a moment to pet her then (leaning into the touch, rumbling softly), before giving Bill another quick top-of-the-head-stroke (after a wordless protest from him) and moving off again. (To which Miz pouted again, because her brother was getting more attention than _her_ , but _she_ was undeniably _cuter!_ )

Ford was staring at the demons suspiciously throughout all this. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Ford snapped at Bill, "What are you _doing?!_ " because Bill _had_ to be doing _something_ here, some… some kind of _spell_ that was making people see them as _normal_ , or…

\--Why was Bill allowing Susan to _touch_ him? He _hated_ being touched! ~~...Didn't he?~~ (Though he did seem to let Stan do it sometimes… at night… sitting in that chair with him… but, that was only when the demon was too tired to protest much, wasn’t it? Stan only seemed to truly get away with it when Bill was tired or distracted… ~~or upset…~~ ) But _now_ Bill was okay with it? Letting someone _lay hands on him_ like that? --And from _Susan_ , of all people? Some… some _random, normal person_ who had nothing at all to do with his Zodiac?! To Ford, the idea was beyond belief! And he’d seen it happen _twice!_

But Bill simply cracked open one slitted eye and stared neutrally up at Ford, from where he still had his head easily pillowed in his arms on the tabletop in front of him.

"What?" he told Ford. "You think I can’t _recognize_ **worship** when I see it?" the demon practically purred out at him. "Or _feel_ it?" Bill added, closing his one eye with a even-lazier smile, and Ford looked on at him, absolutely aghast.

Miz herself shrugged absently at this, kicking her legs as they dangled over the booth seat.

"Cats," Miz stated (in a somewhat-distracted tone), confusing Ford even more. (Oddly, this seemed to solve something for Stan sitting next to him, because that had his brother stop his frowning and getting a more eyebrows-raised 'Oh…' sort of look instead. Which, frankly, irritated Ford even further, because--)

"Of course!" Bill smiled out at his sister, looking so incredibly pleased with himself and his situation that Stan had to hold back an eye-roll. "Old Lazy-Eye there knows how to treat a cat _right_ ," the kid sighed out contentedly next. "Mmm. Reminds me of some of the humans I used to encounter, when I was possessing cats for fun and leisure, back in the day. --Those Egyptians sure knew how to treat their 'deities' with _respect_ ," Bill murmured out next, to Ford's absolute shock. (Ford had known that Bill had had a great impact on the ancient Egyptians long-since, but he hadn't realized that Bill had possessed anything or anyone other than higher-order sapient intelligent species before! But if Bill could really do _that_ , then _that_ meant that--)

"The worship feels nice, cool that I can still get that. But I guess it’s not the same as emotions. Feels really nice actually, should probably possess cats more often when I get home. But I like petting them too… oh wait, I can split myself, I can _be_ a cat and _pet_ the cat that I am at the same time..." Miz was swinging her legs as she turned the page of her menu. "It’s so nice to go out to a restaurant where people aren’t pointing guns at me," she commented absently as she traced a finger down the menu.

Stan sighed as he overheard this. (Luckily, Ford seemed to still be blown away about _somethin'_ that the kid had said. Enough that what Miz had said hadn't really registered with him, looked like.)

"Hey, maybe don’t go talkin’ about that here. Not really good lunch conversation," Stan told her. "Besides," he said next, "I've been tryin' to talk your brother up here to the locals. You go talkin' about guns and stuff like that, they're gonna want ta know what and why…" Stan told her, "And you'll be havin' folks askin' if he was there with you when it happened, and why not." And piss off her brother about the whole people-tryin'-to-kill-her thing all over again, which they _really_ didn't need happening around other people. "Small town."

"You've been doing _what?!?_ " Ford hissed out at him next, and Stan glanced over at him. ("Hey, I told you I was…" Stan began under his breath to Ford, both explaining and reminding him that-- which of course got him an _"I didn't think you meant that--"_ from Ford, and--)

Miz didn’t look like she heard him, squinting at the menu as she tried to read past the coffee stain. "They have Eggs in a Basket, dang, haven’t had that in a while. But it’d be kinda boring to get…"

Stan glanced over at the kid (after getting done handling Ford for the moment, kinda) and said, "Kid, get your sister's attention for me, will ya?" The kid grumbled (rumbled?) slightly, then pulled an arm out from under his pillowed head, to reach up and place that hand on top of his sister's head. Miz squeaked in startlement, and looked up.

"Miz. No talking about other dimensions or times when you were in bad situations an’ stuff in public. Yeah?" Stan told her more firmly. Miz actually lowered her menu at that.

"Shoot, was I speaking out loud?" she told them, then frowned and poked at her headband with an annoyed look. Stan frowned at that himself.

"Does sealing off your…" he trailed off, not sure what to ask. "Does doin' that make it… uh... harder for you to tell what you're keepin' in your _own_ head or not?" he asked, not so sure he was gettin' this right. (This, of course, got him another _"What?!"_ from Ford…)

"Ah… well…" Miz admitted. "I generally have a non-stop babbling stream of consciousness narrating my life and everything I do and think, happening inside my head at all times." She poked at her headband again before frowning and seeming to tweak something, as she wiggled her fingers around at it. "I guess I need to calibrate this better. Everything just seems so quiet right now. It’s a little hard to tell what’s in or outside of myself."

"Quiet is good," Bill told her, without opening his eyes or lifting up his head. "Most times. ...Especially now."

Right. "...you do that," Stan told her, then rubbed a hand across his face. (Great. So sealing off her ability to hear thoughts made her own _already terrible_ thought to mouth filter _even worse_. Wonderful.)

(" _What_ do you mean, _sealing off_ her _what!?_ " Ford demanded. "Did she stop keeping other people’s emotions out?" Ford stopped for a moment, and went a little pale. "--Has she been _projecting--?!_ " ...And this led to another rushed under-the-breath conversation with his brother, trying to reassure him about the emotional stuff being handled long-since, filling him in on what had happened earlier that afternoon, that everything with that was handled now too, and about how Miz was and had been used to hearing thoughts…)

(...which Ford looked more than a little freaked out about and was about to protest both rather loudly _and_ angrily as _'not being fine, Stan! that's--'_ until Stan told him that, one, Miz had been hearing, not projecting, and two, _Bill_ had been all for making Miz stop doing that _too_ , just like the emotion-feeling stuff, once he had _known_ about it...)

(...which really only led to Ford agreeing to table this one -- like the other _topic of discussion_ \-- but _only_ until they were all safely home again, and he had Stan alone in his room or the basement someplace to talk to him about…)

Miz raised her menu again, and continued to read through it, then stopped. She pointed at the menu. "So what’s this coffee pancake thing about? Is it bitter? Sweet?"

"Yick," was Bill's contribution to the discussion.

Stan shrugged. "Susan pours coffee into the batter. I haven’t tried it myself." ...Yeah, sure, guessing the 'secret ingredient' made the plate free, but even _he_ had never been _that_ desperate for somethin' to eat. (Hell, he’d resort to, and risk getting caught at, pickpocketing again before subjecting himself to _that_. There were worse ways to go out… and the food in jail was both better than that, and free, Stan figured. So, y'know, win-win.)

Miz tilted her head. "Maybe I should go with the corned beef hash instead, I don’t usually like coffee unless there’s like a whole cup of sugar in it."

Stan let out a laugh at that, he couldn't help it. "You don’t like bitter stuff?" he teased.

"I like dark chocolate! But coffee is so… bleh." Miz pouted. Stan let out another laugh.

"Just add sugar!" Stan teased her further (to a frowning look from his brother), as he took his time paging through his own menu (he already knew what he wanted, though, using it as a prop). "I’m sure you can ask Susan to add extra sugar to the pancakes-- and you can pour a whole BUNCH of syrup on it too!" (But Miz wasn't the only one he was teasing there, because…)

Ford practically gagged at the thought. "Stan, that’s _disgusting_ ," he objected. " _Don't_ tell her to eat that!" (By his own line of reasoning, giving the man-eater things to eat that she liked less than eating _people_ would end in a rather obvious conclusion only _that much sooner_. --Really, what was his brother _thinking?!_ )

"Maybe next time. I like corned beef better." Miz declared.

Bill smiled at her, eyes still closed. "If you don't know what you want, go with what you like," was his simple advice. "Or don't." (The latter got a stuck-out tongue and a giggle at him from his sister. Bill smiled, eyes still closed.)

Susan came back shortly thereafter, and she stroked Bill's hair as she took down everyone's orders. Bill got a simple fruit cup -- fresh fruit, freshly-made in-diner, no added sugar or syrup. Miz got the corned beef hash she wanted, along with a three cheese omelette with spinach and some toast with a side of homefries. Stan got a burger for himself, and Ford simply asked for a coffee.

Miz gasped aloud at this. "You can’t just have _coffee_ for lunch!" She seemed legitimately upset by this. "You’re a large man, you need food! Sustenance! At least get a sandwich or something!" she protested. (Were the Pines really _that_ badly off for funds?)

"I’m perfectly fine with just coffee," Ford informed her, narrowing his eyes at her.

Miz seemed about to argue with him about it, but then stopped herself with a visible effort, and backed down with an, "Alright, Stan makes sure you eat when you need to, so I guess you’re fine." _That_ , of course, made Ford look like he wanted to protest that he didn’t need anyone _babysitting_ him in order to--

\--but his brother was snickering already at this, so Ford crossed his arms and pulled in a deep breath instead, practicing patience in the face of demonic ‘prodding’.

"Don’t worry, kid. Ford doesn’t have to eat a full meal at every mealtime when everybody else is eating," he told her. Then he leaned in and said in a fake whisper, "He’s watching his figure." (Ford, of course, quickly protested this with a sputtered-out, "-- _Stanley!_ ")

Miz tilted her head and thought about it before turning to Ford and telling him seriously, "You’re beautiful just the way you are." (Ford covered his face at this, because _really_?! Was this _really_ happening to him right now?! ...And his brother wasn’t helping _either_ , letting out a snort before muffling his amusement behind a hand. Ford lifted his head and sent a glare his way.)

"Really, though," Stan said, leaning back, "Don’t worry about it. He ate breakfast a little later than everybody else today, in his room," Stan told her, a little more seriously. "I'll make sure he eats somethin' substantial when we all get back home," he added, eyeing his brother, who proceeded to roll his eyes at him and let out a huff at this news.

Miz nodded at that before she thought about it and turned to Stan so she could tell him as well. "You’re also beautiful the way you are."

Stan let out a laugh at this. "More like devilishly handsome!" he joked, taking the praise. "But thanks."

Miz turned to nuzzle against Bill’s side. "And you’re the prettiest, both triangle and human-ish."

Bill chittered at her a bit, with a very put-upon look. "I'm not pretty. I’m a snappy dresser. And handsome when I want to be," and Miz giggled at this.

"Okay, you’re handsome," she teased him. Bill huffed out a breath at this, looking away from her, and-- Ford stared. Was Bill _blushing?!_

"...you’re beautiful, too," Bill spoke up to say, though he told her this a bit quietly, both serious and small, looking down at the table a bit as he said it. This, and… "Perfectly-imperfect." he said next, in a slightly more normal tone of voice for him.

Miz made a happy sound and leaned over to nuzzle him again, almost leaning on him. "Thanks," she said sincerely, blushing a little herself. It meant a lot, to know her brother thought she was imperfect and perfect, that she was flawed and still beautiful and _right_ just the way she was.

Bill continued to look down at the table. And he smiled. (Not _grinned_. Smiled. He smiled, like he _meant_ \--)

Before things could get any weirder for Ford, the food came and interrupted everything (and Susan’s ‘petting’ of the demons interrupted things further). Ford was almost relieved to watch Miz begin stuffing her face, instead of talking and being rather weird with Bill. ~~(This play-acting of hers could not _possibly_ end well, for any of them.)~~ ...At least she wasn’t just shoving her entire plate down her throat now out in full view of the public, like she had swallowed entire fish whole at the boat.

Susan gave Bill and Miz a few more pats on the head after putting everyone's plates down. "A hungry little one, aren’t ya?" she coo’ed at Miz before heading back to work. Miz preened under the attention. Stan muffled his laughter behind his cup.

Miz cut up her omelette and ‘nom’ed it. "It always tastes different when someone else makes it, compared to when you cook it yourself," she mused. "Even when using the same recipe. Cooking is amazing," she practically sparkled with awe.

Stan let out a short laugh. "It's really that amazing to you?" He'd kind of gotten that feeling from her before, but...

"Cooking is the path to life. Without access to cooked or prepared food, no species would have evolved enough to become people." Miz said simply. "It's what separates humans from most other animals."

Bill snickered, and then said, "Most, but not _all_ ," which had Ford practically bristling in place, getting him all riled up for some reason.

Miz shrugged. "I introduced cooking to the creatures in my world. Though most of their methods involved super burning their food, various acids, mincing stuff into small pieces…" she paused. "Well, once they started experimenting, I got to try out a lot of very different types of cuisine. It was fun." Oh~ there was that one restaurant on planet Joo-Fan that she'd been meaning to go to...

Luckily for Ford’s (relative) peace of mind, the demons left it at that and didn’t say anything more as they ate their food. Miz seemed to be enjoying herself, looking around to watch the people around them.

But near the end of their meal, Miz glanced over, out the window before pausing and saying, "Is that Gideon?"

Bill stiffened immediately and raised his head abruptly to glare out the window. Hell, Stan turned in place, tossed an arm over the back of the booth seat, and did the same thing.

Ford glanced between both of them, slowly lowering his fork and wondering what was the cause of such alarm.

Miz squeaked when Bill placed a hand on her head and nudged her down and below the level of the table surface, hiding her from view. Stan would have found it funny, considering Bill had all but pushed Miz under the table, but this wasn’t the time for that. He didn’t want the kid around Gideon; having Miz around him would be even worse.

Stan thought hard and fast, turning away from the window and casually glancing around at all the exit paths out of the diner.

...and Ford still didn’t know why the tension had suddenly gone up. He didn’t really know much about young Gideon, only having met him a few times, but he remembered how Bill had stuck the boy in that cage, dancing for him. The demon wasn’t afraid of him, surely. Shouldn’t this youngest of their Zodiac members be the one looking out for _Bill…?_

They all remained quiet, watching the pale child approach the diner, surrounded as always by his various prison friends. It didn’t seem like he’d noticed them, as he approached the steps up to the door of the diner. ...Hell, Stan hoped it stayed that way. He leaned in across the table, a little closer to Bill, who was still hissing out at a struggling Miz to ‘stay still and out of sight!’, and…

Stan told the two of them under his breath, "There's a back door to this joint. ‘Kid, you know it, right? I’ll gonna get up and distract him; you get your sister out of here and back to the Shack, yeah?"

Bill nodded once, looking grim and just the slightest bit worried. He really didn't want his little sister anywhere near Gideon. Miz finally stopped her struggles, still half on the booth chair and half under the table. "Wha? I'm not helpless! I can walk past him no problem!"

"Look, Miz--" Stan started to say before the kid cut him off with a--

"This isn’t about being helpless! It’s--"

\--only for _the kid_ to get cut off himself, as the dragon-lady huffed out, "He doesn't know me. If he doesn't see me with you guys he wouldn't give me the time of day." And that…

...had Stan going expressionless on her (because did she really not realize…? Had the kid really not explained that--), while Bill told her, "Stanley _just got done_ introducing _both_ of us to nearly _everyone_ in town! The living ventriloquist dummy isn’t _Stanford_. --He _talks to people_ and listens to _rumors!_ He _will_ know who you are!!" Bill told her quite firmly.

"Fine, I can head out, wait for you guys outside," Miz told them. "I can even take the back door, so I wouldn't have to go near him."

Ford glanced back and forth between everyone. "Why is this such a problem?"

"--Yes, disassemble your vessel and go through the window-wall," Bill told Miz under his breath. "I'll meet you outside, out back, within three minutes."

" _Bill_ ," Ford said.

"--He's a _bad influence_ ," Bill hissed out at Ford finally, looking irate and glaring mental daggers at him. And Ford looked taken aback at this, though only for a moment. (Stan blinked as Ford almost immediately smoothed his face into a neutral expression and straightened in place, folding his hands in front of him on the table and giving Bill a _long_ look, because… _The heck?_ )

"He tried to kill Dipper with some shears when Dipper told him that Mabel didn't want to date him. And he refused to take 'no' for an answer when Mabel told him _herself_ that she didn't want to date him," Miz whispered out as a further explanation, peeking over at the pale boy chatting with a huge muscular man as they got even closer, almost to the stairs up to the door...

When Stan stared at her over that one (because the twins hadn't told him about any _shears_ junk) and glanced up at the kid (was she 'confused' again? Kid wasn't correcting her, but the kid was also pretty distracted right now, glaring daggers at the …), Miz shrugged and added, "He's a yandere." Yeah. Sure. As if that explained anything to him.

While Ford and Stan were still processing this, Miz's form seemed to shimmer and turn into vapor, flowing away out the window and then over and off to the side, vanishing out of sight.

Miz circled the building, and then came down near the back door, where she reformed herself out of sight of any passerby.

Bill relaxed almost immediately once she was outside and away from Gideon, who was walking up the steps of the diner, coming up the other side of the diner, to come in.

Stan blinked as Bill pushed himself to his feet and **vanished** _as he left the booth_ \-- one second there and then, just, _not_.

Stan glanced around, not sure how the kid thought he was gonna get out -- there were too many people in-between him and the door, and nobody was gonna move outta the kid's way _now_ \-- but it had looked like the kid _had_ been heading for the other door -- away from Gideon -- not looking like he was giving a care in the world, but Stan had seen the tense set of Bill’s shoulders.

Stan did a quick mental calculation of the price for their meal, plus tax and (reluctantly) a small tip, and slapped the money (in exact change) down on the table before getting up himself. They were pretty much finished eating anyway. He walked normally, with a bit of a slouch and waved at Susan as he passed.

He knew it would happen, but still had to hold back a cringe when he heard the other door go (...and saw it stay open a bit longer than usual even after one of Gideon's two goons had let go of it, finished with holding it open from where they came in from the other side…) and then heard Gideon’s shrill voice call out, "Stan Pines! How delightful to see you. I haven’t seen you in town for a while."

"Eh, been busy around the Shack." Stan grumbled, not stopping his walk as he continued on. He saw the way Gideon’s eyes were tracking him, and scanning the restaurant for, presumably, the kid himself.

"Busy keeping watch on your guest?" Gideon drawled out, and Stan had to cover a snort. Kid looked like he was desperately trying not to sweat. (...Yeah, Stan was fine with that. Stay scared, and stay away from the Shack, ya little pint-sized jerk.)

Stan shrugged. "Eh," he grunted out, letting nothing but complete unconcern show on his face. "You know the kid. He's… _around_ ," he told the Gleeful kid, not looking up as he saw, in the corner of his peripheral vision as he moved, _some_ body a bit taller with blue hair peek around the damn corner of the building, instead of staying out back with his sister like he should’ve. He was almost to the door, and here Bill was already outside; probably managed to get out past Gideon's goon somehow when the door paused in closing for that second or two there. (Hell, _he_ coulda held the door for him on the way out, if the kid had just given him any more of a heads-up on what he’d needed. Damn kid, pushing things like that…)

(Normally, the kid would wait for him for stuff, but Stan knew the kid must’ve been on pins and needles at the idea of leaving Miz outside on her own for too long, even if the kid would probably never admit it out loud. ...Maybe because the Gleeful kid might have more of those 'reformed' ex-cons of his around? Hell, the lot of _them_ weren't _that_ bad though, even for hardcore convicted killers. Though why they’d end up deciding to follow around _that_ little shit...)

Gideon's eyes narrowed at Stan's half-inflammatory evasiveness and it looked like he was gonna start something, but Ford strode over and stared down at him, before saying, "It was nice seeing you, Gideon. But we have to go. Our guest is waiting outside," dammit, Ford, "And we need to get said guest back to the Shack, now," he said in a firm tone, not exactly hostile. Gideon looked a little taken aback, and Stan blinked as Ford continued on with, "Stanley simply insists on our guest socializing with people, while under supervision, to see if they can learn to behave." And then Ford made a slight movement of his right hand at his side, to…

...brush along the side of his jacket, underneath which one of his two guns was holstered.

It was a deliberately 'not deliberate' motion that nearly had the hair on the back of Stan's neck standing up -- not because Ford was being threatening, but because he wasn't _trying_ to be. Because Ford had done it automatically, Stan could tell. Ford had learned to _unconsciously_ check his favorite firearm placement, and at the same time effectively tell anyone who might be thinking about starting a fight with him that they might want to think twice about it, because he was _armed and dangerous_ and ready to use it.

And because Gideon was Gideon, that 'deliberate' but unconscious motion drew Gideon's eyes towards it.

...And Gideon _relaxed_ when he saw it. The Gleeful kid drew _all the **wrong** conclusions_ from that damn scary-ass motion. Stan could see that, too.

Because seeing that firearm right there got a wicked grin out of the child for just a second there, before he smoothed it away again. ...Because the Gleeful kid thought the gun had been _for Bill_.

(Then Stan had to fight to keep his face straight, because it suddenly occurred to him that… Ford _wanted_ Bill dead, and he’d already tried to shoot Bill dead _more than once_ before now.)

(...What if _he_ was the one reading the situation wrong, instead…?)

\--Stan kept on walking. He didn't try to correct the little pint-sized ex-con jerk, right or wrong or not. Nope. He was gonna leave _that_ whole mess to his _brother_ this time, thanks...

"Behaving, eh?" Gideon chuckled out at the two of them, two rather large individuals (bodyguards?) at his side, who then all but jumped to laugh along with him. (Ford frowned a little at this.)

"We have things under control," Ford told him more calmly than he actually felt about the situation at-hand with Bill… (especially with his brother headed out the door to be left alone with said demons again. He needed to get out of here _now_.) "He's… learning to be better. Slowly." And Ford grimaced at his own half-lie (Bill would never really change, after all, not ever), but for some reason… the child seemed to trust him in this, at his word, and relaxed completely.

...said level of (unearned and undeserved) trust becoming even more apparent when the child let out another laugh and said, "Well, make sure you train 'im properly!" brightly next, with a grin.

Ford stared at this. ~~And he tried not to think too hard about the fact that the one thing, the _most worrisome thing_ , that he’d thought of, with Stan trying to ‘twist the demon up inside his own head so badly that he will never tell him no…’ was something that this child had so breezily and _cheerily_ brought up just now as a completely _desireable outcome_ \--~~

The boy then turned towards the counter -- all but ignoring them-- _him_ (...Stan was already out the door, damn him...) now, turning away from him to focus, rather, on complimenting the waitress, Susan, on her hair -- and pulled himself up to a seat at said counter, his bodyguards sitting down on either side of him, defensively eyeing him for some reason.

Ford watched the child take up and start looking through one of the diner's menus, and after Ford had finished eyeing and evaluating the situation _strike and trying not to think too hard about the fact that--, he turned away from them and made his own way to the door, as well._

__

__

Stan was already outside, standing across the street with Bill and Miz.

(...in full view of the diner’s large glass windows. Ford had no idea what Stan or either of the two demons were _thinking_ \-- ~~though perhaps the simple answer was _they weren’t_ \--~~)

Stan gave him a look; he'd finally caught on to what Ford had done. What he'd unintentionally (Stan hoped) and unconsciously implied. Stan wasn't all that happy about it, but if it kept Gideon from being suspicious, well, Stan would let it slide this time. (Kid wouldn't like it, but the kid could just deal with it, Stan figured.)

"Alright, looks like we're gonna have to cut the trip short here this time. Let's head back." Stan told them all. Miz was holding Bill's hand, sending worried glances back at the diner. Bill was already turning to walk off in the direction of the Shack, knowing all the shortcuts into and around and out-of the town that would allow them to run into (read: avoid encountering) the least amount of traffic or people.

As Stan and Ford followed them, Ford made a note to ask the twins about their interactions with Gideon, because… well, while he'd hardly trust the word of a demon as the whole truth of a situation… clearly they hadn't told him everything...

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My AN:**  
>  Ah, foreshadowing! My old friend! :D
> 
> Mizuuma and I do plan to have another IiR/-A 'verse crossover in the future, and a fun Gideon encounter between all of them _will_ be occurring. She laughed her ass off when I told her what I had planned as a _delightful_ misconception upcoming, so I hope that you all end up enjoying it too, once we finally finish getting it written and then post it. *eg*
> 
> [Chapter 109](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/48343774) is an interlude chapter ("Chapter 95.1") back in MizBill's home dimensional set. --I'd actually recommend reading this one for the Axolotl POV part at the end and Mizuuma's ending AN; it's interesting *g* ;)


	28. Chapter 95.5: Interlude, various conversations and then a continuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Ford learns stuff he isn't happy about (what else is new?)  
> Meanwhile, Miz is horny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original AN:  
> A/N: The first section is a conversation set right after the DDNMD game. We didn't get around to writing it until now. The rest of the chapter is after Bill, Miz and the Stans return back to the Shack after escaping from Gideon at the diner.
> 
> Escape the awkward confrontation that would have been, at least XD
> 
> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 110 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/48614789). It was first posted on Sep 2, 2019.

\---

(After the DDNMD game, in Ford's room)

\---

Dipper slowly pushed the door to Great-Uncle Ford’s bedroom open. And he had an odd mixed feeling of relief and uncomfortable exclusion as he saw Grunkle Stan and Mabel sitting next to Great-Uncle Ford (and what his great-uncle looked like just then). He paused, and began to quietly back out of the room, thinking that maybe he should leave and just let them…

...but then Mabel looked up and straightened, and he saw both Grunkle Stan and then Great-Uncle Ford lift their heads to look over, and…

"Get over here, silly!" Mabel enthused out, making a wavey sweater-hand motion at him from Great-Uncle Ford’s left side. She said it a little more quietly than usual, but it was clear from looking at them all that they all thought…

Dipper couldn’t help but blush a little and duck his head slightly, as he moved the rest of the way into Great-Uncle Ford’s bedroom and closed the door behind him with a soft click, as the door latched shut.

...He still felt both a little like he was intruding, and a little like he was not, as he walked over to where Mabel was sitting, smiling up at him, and Grunkle Stan was looking him over with a slight grunkly frown, and Great-Uncle Ford was looking up at him with a tired but welcoming smile, and...

"Sorry," Dipper said, feeling completely silly and maybe a little stupid about it, now, as Mabel crawled her way up into Great-Uncle Ford’s lap, and Dipper sat down at his great-uncle’s left side where Mabel had just made room for him. And Dipper couldn’t help but let out a breath as Great-Uncle Ford wrapped the arm he’d just had around Mabel around him, too, and…

\--Dipper let out a soft laugh as Mabel practically tackle-hugged him in place, still half in Great-Uncle Ford’s lap. Great-Uncle Ford let out a slightly startled laugh himself, and Grunkle Stan… Grunkle Stan just moved in a little closer, to wrap his other arm around Mabel in a hug, for ‘full hug coverage’, as Mabel liked to put it.

"Are you all right, my boy?" Great-Uncle Ford asked him quietly, and Dipper let out another breath and nodded a few times. Yeah, he’d been out there for awhile, and kind of almost gotten ‘cornered’ by the two demons again, but… yeah, he was fine.

He just hadn’t wanted to disrupt what was going on in here, is all. He… hadn’t really thought he’d be able to try and make anything _better_ , just by being there. But with the way Mabel was hugging him now and giving him that lopsided smile, he knew that she knew, and that she thought he was being a big dumb-dumb head about it.

Because yeah, Great-Uncle Ford had been looking a _lot_ better than he usually did when he and Mabel tried to bookend him with hugs and… just sitting next to him for awhile sometimes, when he couldn’t even do that. And yeah, it had left Dipper feeling grateful, and happy almost, that he _hadn’t_ gotten in there first, before Grunkle Stan had sat down where he usually sat -- and boy, had that been uncomfortable to feel when he’d realized what he was thinking...

...but it was really the truth. Dipper was terrible at making Great-Uncle Ford feel better, and when he’d walked in… It was weird, but Dipper _knew_ that this wasn’t something Mabel had done. And he probably wouldn’t have believed it, if he hadn’t saw it. But the way Great-Uncle Ford and Grunkle Stan had been sitting next to each other...

...yeah, Mabel totally had stars in her eyes of excitement over it for a reason (and yeah, she’d just been waiting for him to come in, to share). Because when Dipper had walked in, Mabel had been curled up right into Great-Uncle Ford’s left side, sure, but at Great-Uncle Ford’s right...

Grunkle Stan had been sitting there with his arm around Great-Uncle Ford’s shoulder, and Great-Uncle Ford had been just leaning up against him, his head knocked up against Grunkle Stan’s own, and… he’d looked so _relaxed_. They _both_ had. Great-Uncle Ford had had his arm around Grunkle Stan’s back, too, and they’d both had their eyes closed, and… Mabel had almost been superfluous, a superfluous hug, in addition to that. And _that_ was saying something.

And there wasn’t any awkwardness there, either. _Something_ had happened, that had had them finally… well...

"--You two _**finally**_ hugged it out!" Mabel almost squealed out at them, finally, his twin unable to keep it in anymore. And...

...oh. Oh, _man._ Dipper had maybe been expecting old-man blushes, or some looking away and scratching the back of their heads, all embarrassed, with some denials or something. Because with the way the two of them had been fighting before they’d gotten back, and the extra week that they hadn’t talked about yet, that had worried him and Mabel at first when they’d first heard about it -- because an extra _week_ of the two of them being ‘dumb’ and arguing without them around to try and stop them, when they’d been yelling at each other like _that_ , the last time they’d saw them? _That_ was kind of horrifying. But with the two of them acting like _this_ **now** , Dipper had thought...

And he hadn’t been the only one. Dipper winced, and he saw Mabel’s face fall, and her struggle not to frown, as the mood between their grunkle and great-uncle shifted to something that neither of them had been expecting. Something kind of heavy and… _hurt_ , almost.

And it was a _guilty_ kind of hurt, that Great-Uncle Ford was feeling. (Which meant…)

"...Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked, her voice wavering a little bit as she looked up at him, and their grunkle let out a sigh and gave her a little squeeze of a hug, before letting go to muss up her hair a bit. "Did you…?"

"Wasn’t exactly a hug," Grunkle Stan told them both in grunkly old-man tones, though he sounded almost muted as he said it. "Guess we worked through a couple things, though."

Dipper had to stifle a frown as he _felt_ Great-Uncle Ford wince at his side. ...But apparently, so did Grunkle Stan, because he just sighed and looked tired himself, as he lifted a hand and… ruffled Great-Uncle Ford’s hair, next? (Woah.) "Hey, knucklehead, I ain’t mad. You know that. Right?"

And somehow, this made things even worse, because Great-Uncle Ford curled in on himself a little more and looked even _more_ miserable, now.

"I’m _sorry_ , Stan," Great-Uncle Ford said quietly, looking away, not looking at any of them, and he looked slightly startled as Grunkle Stan ruffled his hair again at the back and then pulled him in closer, kind of cupping his head and neck.

"I ain’t," Grunkle Stan said roughly, and, okay, he and Mabel were totally lost now. "And you shouldn’t be either."

Whatever was going on, though, what Grunkle Stan had just said seemed to work, at least a little, because… It had Great-Uncle Ford looking terribly pained all over again, but kind of… more openly this time? And he just sort of… ducked his head up against the side of Grunkle Stan’s head next, and started to relax again. It looked… painful. But… kind of that good kind of painful? Like the pain was bleeding out slowly, instead of just staying stuck inside.

Dipper swallowed hard, as he watched this. Mabel had used to have an easier time at this stuff, before. Pain had used to drain away a lot more quickly, in elementary school. Just… shave both your heads, and she’d let go and it’d all drain out in almost an instant. But things had gotten harder and harder in middle school, and Dipper had started to see it last summer -- what it looked like when your twin held in pain, instead of letting you help them get it all out.

This looked like something Great-Uncle Ford had been holding in for a _really_ long time, and this wasn’t going to go away in just an hour, or even one night.

Dipper exchanged a look with his twin, but Mabel gave him something of a hopeful look, and Dipper couldn’t help but relax a little bit.

"Stan…" Great-Uncle Ford said quietly.

"Nope, none of that," Grunkle Stan said next. "Nobody’s being sorry. We’re all just fine. Everything worked out over there… uh, kinda. Yeah. --And we’re not needin’ to talk about any of this stuff again anymore," Grunkle Stan rumbled out, almost hurriedly at the end there.

"Grunkle Stan…" Mabel chided, and said grunkle pulled a grunkly-grimace on them.

"--Tonight," Grunkle Stan amended, after a Mabel-patented ‘I am going to prescribe you _so_ many hugs’ glare. "We ain’t gonna talk about any of this junk any more tonight. --We’ve got other stuff to talk about," Grunkle Stan brought up next. "Like ‘what did we learn from this one’. Yeah?"

Mabel pulled in a breath, and she and Dipper exchanged glances, (and Dipper tried to tell her to just let it go for awhile, he was pretty sure pushing was going to make it worse), and… "...Fiiiiine," Mabel said, not quite collapsing up against Grunkle Stan’s back, and staring up at him.. "But _you two_ are _going_ to tell us about that _whole_ summertime-without-us week, misters! And no leaving _any_ thing out this time, _either!_ " she declared, pointing up at them. "I want _all_ the details!"

At this, Dipper stared a bit, because he saw Great-Uncle Ford raise his head away from Stan’s shoulder slightly, and… turn to his own twin, to give him an _imploring_ look. A ‘do we _have_ to?’ look.

Stan huffed out a long-suffering sigh. "A _little_ bit. _Later_ ," Grunkle Stan said, while exchanging a twin look with Great-Uncle Ford, that had him grimacing and looking away, but _not arguing_ , and... (Oh, man. Wow. _Wow._ Dipper hadn’t actually thought that Grunkle Stan was really being serious, when he kept saying that he was the ‘alpha twin’. Oh _man_...)

Dipper sent a twin-look of his own to Mabel, a sort of ‘did you just _see_ that?’ look. And Mabel gave him the slightest nod, followed by what was the scariest sort of determined look he’d ever seen out of her, which read: 'if the grunkles don't tell us, we can ask Bill.'

Dipper really wasn’t sure about that one, but...

...after glancing up at his grunkle and great-uncle, he could understand the urge to know _exactly_ what had been going on over there in that other dimension with those other ‘them’s, that they just didn’t know about. Because if it had messed with their grunkle and great-uncle this much...

(Which was messed up. Their grunkle and great-uncle had already told them a lot, but Mabel was right -- they’d apparently _left out_ a lot of stuff, too. A _lot _of stuff. And...)__

____

____

~~Wait. Did this mean that _Bill_ had done something to try and get them to stop fighting, that had worked _better_ than anything Mabel had managed to come up with to-date, ever? ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

"So," Stan said. "What did we learn outta that crazy triangle demon _this_ time?" he prompted, and Dipper saw his twin try not to look disappointed as Great-Uncle Ford grimaced slightly and straightened in place, moving a bit away from Grunkle Stan’s side to sit up on his own. (Wow. Yeah, he really _had_ been leaning up against him a lot and everything. ...Well, at least they really were acting like twins again? Finally? ~~Huh. Was it gonna be weird seeing them like this, when they hadn’t been like this around them before?~~ )

"Ummmm," Mabel began, game for trying to help Grunkle Stan out. (She was trying to get Grunkle Ford to stop dwelling on whatever bad stuff was making him feel awful right now.) "Which one?" she asked first.

"Both of ‘em," Grunkle Stan said promptly. "Miz agreed to it, too." And he had a slight almost ‘gotcha’ smile going, that Dipper noticed.

Dipper frowned slightly. "She really likes stories," he put out there. "She was a lot heavier on the roleplaying and stuff than even… uh, even Great-Uncle Ford gets, sometimes?" Dipper tried not to wince at what he’d just implied. He’d only meant that _he_ usually used it as a means to an end, setting up the scene, and... "--It’s not that I don’t like that stuff!" DIpper said. "I mean, you always mix it up with lots of fighting--" It just… always felt like there was a lot of depth when Great-Uncle Ford did it, is all.

"It’s fine," Great-Uncle Ford told him, to Dipper’s relief. "I’ve had many more years to think of backstory and characters for the settings."

Dipper couldn’t help but blush at this. "I, uh," he said. "I think I understand what Bill and Miz were saying about murder-hobo campaigns, now, though," he told them all. But then he couldn’t help but frown. "I don’t think I want to play them that way, though," Dipper admitted, glancing over at Great-Uncle Ford. "Not if Bill’s going to talk his way out of everything. He’s got the build for it," Dipper noted, "Even with the super-low charisma score." With the way he’d dorked up all the numbers, and all the items he had that ( _mostly_ ) made up for it...

"Aw…" Mabel said, and Dipper couldn’t help but wince. "Dipper, I _liked_ getting to talk with the werewolves, though." She sounded a little resigned to not getting to do that again, though. Because if it was going to hurt Great-Uncle Ford seeing Bill doing stuff like that...

"--I’m fine," Great-Uncle Ford said. "I just…" He grimaced.

"Ford, don’t go pushing yourself," Grunkle Stan told him.

"It’s not _that_ ," Great-Uncle Ford told them. "I just... " He pulled in a breath. "If it was just Bill, I could tell him to stop. But…" He trailed off.

"But?" Grunkle Stan said, as Great-Uncle Ford got super quiet, looking down.

"...I don’t want to talk about it, Stan," Great-Uncle Ford said quietly.

"Doesn’t have to be specific," Grunkle Stan told him. "Just keep it general."

(Dipper glanced between them almost anxiously. The way Grunkle Stan had sounded so level there had seemed almost… dangerous. And he wasn’t completely sure why.)

Great-Uncle Ford grimaced at this, and pulled in a breath. He looked away, and let it out as a sigh.

And then he finally said, "Bill and another demon _working together_ is… too much."

There was a pause.

"That happen often?" Grunkle Stan said, and Great-Uncle Ford shook his head, still not looking at any of them.

"Not if you don't count the Henchmaniacs," Great-Uncle Ford said dourly. "But--" he seemed to almost twitch in place, "The two of them were-- were _playing together_ \-- and--" Great-Uncle Ford cut himself off abruptly, almost snapping his mouth shut.

Grunkle Stan was watching him the entire time, carefully.

"...Okay," Grunkle Stan said slowly, and Dipper saw him rub a hand across Great-Uncle Ford’s back. "I got it. Bouncing stuff off each other is a couple steps too far."

And weirdly in synch, Dipper noted. The two demons were eerie sometimes in how they would just mirror each other without what looked like any pre-planning. The way the two were able to just… do stuff around each other to reach the same goal, without trying to do it on purpose? Dipper had seen how the two moved around each other, or would be doing the same thing as each other, while not even looking at each other--

...Maybe Miz really _was_ a Bill Cipher, too. Maybe when Bill said that whole thing about ‘a me that is also me’, he was really _on_ to something about...

"I’ll tell ‘em to try and lay off of doin’ that around you too much," Grunkle Stan said next.

"...It would be best if they didn’t do it around anyone at all," Great-Uncle Ford muttered, which just had him grimacing as Grunkle Stan told him, "I ain’t gonna tell them not to do that stuff around me," next.

"Stan…" Great-Uncle Ford not-quite complained.

"Nuh-uh," Grunkle Stan told him. "Ford, I’m serious. I can handle it. Believe me, you don’t know _half_ the stuff the kid’s told me so far, and the more I see the two of ‘em together… --You have no _idea_ how much stuff I’m learning about the kid, looking at her," Grunkle Stan told them.

Great-Uncle Ford looked up at Grunkle Stan over that one, and Dipper felt a sudden sort of panicky shock. (So did Mabel.)

And their grunkle and great-uncle noticed, turning towards both of them.

"--Dipper, it’s fine," Grunkle Stan told him.

"--Mabel, _I know_ ," Great-Uncle Ford said shortly after.

Mabel let out kind of an odd laugh, and Dipper didn’t get what was going on here. At least, he kind of _hoped_ that he didn’t.

"...Know what," Dipper said slowly, and… then he felt like dirt at the sad, almost hurt look Great-Uncle Ford gave him, at how his face fell.

"I would _never_ hurt you and your sister, Dipper. Never. You-- you _have_ to know that," Great-Uncle Ford told them both quietly

And Dipper swallowed hard as Grunkle Stan told them, "Ford knows that Miz thinks she’s another Bill Cipher. He remembers when she told him the first time. And we were listening to you all from the close side of the boat."

Dipper’s stomach dropped.

"I…" Dipper swallowed hard, as he looked up into the faces of his two, suddenly very serious-looking great-uncles. "I didn’t actually _think_ that you would…"

"...You were both looking out for each other, I understand that, Dipper," Great-Uncle Ford told him quietly, and he felt his great-uncle give him slightly more of a hug with the arm at his side. "Some things are simply too great a risk--"

"--I should have known better than to listen to either of them at all!" Dipper verbally castigated himself, angry at himself. "I--"

"Dipper, _Mason_ , stop," Great-Uncle Ford told him, and _that_ finally gave him pause, halted the cycle of self-loathing that Dipper was feeling just then, as he pulled his knees up to his chest and curled in on himself, even as Mabel pressed up against him, surrounding him with her own hug. "I _know_ how hard it is to feel right about something, when Bill is so _very_ convinced of something else, otherwise. _I know_ what that is like. And he _does_ believe that, very strongly."

"I still shouldn’t have believed him," Dipper said, feeling frustrated at having listened to the dumb dorito over his family. ~~He was so stupid about it. He kept making the same mistakes, over and over again. Mabel had been right about Grunkle Stan and the portal, and _now_ \--~~

"Don’t worry about it," Grunkle Stan told him. "The kid and Miz know that Ford remembers the stuff about her saying she’s Bill Cipher just fine, now; it’s just that they don’t know that _we_ know that _you two_ know, now. Heh. --Or the _other_ way around. We’re gonna hit both of them with that one, now, _real_ soon," Grunkle Stan told them. "See how much of a loop _that_ throws the kid for, yeah?"

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look at the smile Grunkle Stan had on just then, and then Dipper… well, he couldn’t help but shrug it off. (Though that was really a load off of his shoulders, hearing the two of them talk about it. He’d hated having to walk on eggshells over everything about that, and Mabel...)

"So Miz and Bill really _are_ a lot alike?" Mabel asked, unprompted.

At this, Grunkle Stan made a face. "Well, kinda. Not exactly. It’s more like…" Grunkle Stan scratched his cheek. "Kinda looking in a funhouse mirror. How some stuff could’ve happened differently with the kid. --Some stuff’s the same, or kinda-almost-nearly. It’s really more like a siblings thing. Not a twins-thing, though. Even if they _are_ ‘supposed’ to be ‘the same’," Grunkle Stan put it, with a grimace.

Dipper frowned. Looking at Miz to learn more about Bill… if they really were dimensional counterparts, then it made sense that Grunkle Stan could do that. But it felt weird to think about it, let alone think about it _that_ way.

Then Dipper blinked as Grunkle Stan shrugged and said next, "Like all the stuffed animals. Miz likes ‘em, obviously. And Bill ain’t really into that _specifically_ , but I was able to get the crazy triangle to, y’know, bite _pillows_ and stuff when he gets too angry and all stressed out and junk, even before I knew about her and... -- _What?_ " he said, as Great-Uncle Ford turned his head to give him an incredulous look. "It’s one of those ‘constructive outlets’ things for getting mad, right? Punch a pillow? --Kid’s lousy at punching, so he sorta bites and claws at ‘em instead," Grunkle Stan told them matter-of-factly, to a slight giggle from Mabel. "Hey, he’s got a body now; getting him to tire himself out actually _works_ , so I’ll take what I can get," he told them all next. "Figure that’s better than sending him out to go explode a few trees, anyway," Grunkle Stan told them. "Not like we need any more firewood--"

"--Perhaps we should get back to the DDNMD discussion," Great-Uncle Ford interjected rather strongly, and… yeah, Dipper could get behind that one. Because from the look on his face, Dipper realized that Great-Uncle Ford was probably having the same mental image that he was trying to get rid of just then: Bill cuddling up with one of Miz’s huge stuffed animals...

"Sure!" Mabel said, happy to help. "Soooooo… Bill's super-paranoid about traps and stuff, still," Mabel pointed out. "This time, he even checked every single foot for traps. It made the dungeon take _forever!_ "

"Might’ve been trying to set a good example for his little sister," Grunkle Stan put out there. "Kid treats this stuff like real most times. I know he sees it as a good’ teaching tool’ with _us_ ," Grunkle Stan said almost sarcastically. "He might feel the same way about it with her. And from some of the stuff I’ve heard him tell his sister… pretty sure he’s trying to do the exact _opposite_ of showing her _any_ bad habits at all," he told them.

"...He didn’t nyarf the game," Dipper noted. He could’ve, to mess with ‘his sister’. "--I mean, okay, he kind of did with the fireball at the end, but he didn’t pull the whole ‘this game is broken and I’m gonna wreck everything you throw at me’ junk he pulled on _me_ , before we switched the ruleset." Really, before they’d made Bill give them a ruleset that wasn’t completely _broken_. Since Bill had apparently _come up with_ the game in the first place.

(Dipper _still_ felt weird about it. The way Bill had been looking at him, when that had first come up. And then Bill had asked him if he _liked it_. If _he_ liked _the game Bill had made_ , even if Bill hadn’t admitted it outright...)

~~(He’d seemed almost on pins-and-needles, almost _nervous_ in some way, when he’d asked. While he’d been waiting for Dipper to say…)~~

~~(--And the way Bill had _smiled_ afterwards had been...)~~

"Probably didn’t want to spoil stuff for his little sister," Grunkle Stan put out there. "She likes the game, he wanted her to have fun…"

"...But he still set off that fireball at the end," Mabel said, with a slight frown.

"Yeah," Grunkle Stan said, frowning himself. "He did…"

There was a pause.

"...Bill goes out of his way to avoid fighting in the games when he doesn't have to do it," Dipper added. "That hasn’t changed." Even if he had been more extreme about it this session -- but then, Miz had been setting up the game differently than Dipper did. Bill did a lot of flying up and out of the way in Dipper’s games; even if he tried to play it off as gathering intel for them pretty much every single time, it still stood out a lot. More often than not, he played the spy-and-support role, when it came to encounters. Not first-string, not tank; support. He almost always left most of the actual killing up to Mabel and Grunkle Stan, and only jumped in himself when it looked like they were starting to get overwhelmed.

"If there’s a choice… does he really pick not-killing someone?" Dipper asked Great-Uncle Ford, because that seemed a little unbelievable to him. "I mean, maybe he only did it because Miz doesn't seem to like the whole ‘murder-hobo’ thing..." or because he didn’t want to go off risking his own character dying -- but that was an argument they’d had a couple different times, after each session, now.

"Eh, the way I see it, the kid thinks killing someone when you don't have to is a waste of time and energy. It’s that whole ‘efficiency’ thing he’s got going." (Stan had pretty much figured that one out from just talking to Bill about killing versus not needing to a good several weeks ago, what with the agreement and in getting him to let him take point on fights, along with everything else.)

"’Not having to’ generally means not getting in the way of something Bill wants, Stan," Great-Uncle Ford said quietly, "And it doesn’t work. Bill doesn’t generally feel the need to inform anyone of what, exactly, he wants, until you’ve already crossed him." Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look at this, because _this_ wasn’t how this whole argument usually went, when the two of them got talking about it.

"We’re his Zodiac -- far as he sees it," Grunkle Stan said, then amended. "Pretty sure letting _us_ know is pretty high up on his list."

"He hasn’t told us what he really wants _yet_ , Stan," Great-Uncle Ford said next, almost quietly, and that had Dipper and Mabel exchanging yet another glance.

"He wants his brother back," Grunkle Stan said straight-out, and it left Dipper feeling wide-eyed and almost breathless. "And I’m workin’ on figuring out the rest of it, whatever else he wants outta everything. --Don’t know what stupid twisty thing he’s got going, that has him worrying about... aw, _hell_ ," Grunkle Stan said next, then rubbed a hand across his face. "Okay, yeah. Nevermind. Think I’ve actually got a handle on that one, now. _Hell_ ," Grunkle Stan said kind of darkly, like he was kicking himself over something.

"...Stan?" Great-Uncle Ford said slowly, straightening in place.

"--You, don’t _ever_ bring up his brother again. _Ever_ ," Grunkle Stan told Great-Uncle Ford outright. "Having one, not havin’ one -- none of it," Grunkle Stan told him. " _That’s_ what pissed him the hell off with you, that had him lettin’ you have nightmares to hell and back again, and almost... " Grunkle Stan shook his head, then grimaced again.

"He did _what_ to Great-Uncle Ford?" Dipper asked, on the heels of Mabel’s, "--Grunkle Ford, are you _okay??_ "

"--I’m fine," Great-Uncle Ford told them hurriedly, though he didn’t look too happy about something, and Grunkle Stan said, almost as quickly, "--Look, I talked the kid back out of it again, it’s handled. No more nightmares for Ford. Yeah?"

Dipper and Mabel felt truly uncomfortable at this, as they looked between their great-uncles.

"Look, just don’t-- either of you, _don’t_ go bringin’ it up, the whole thing’s a hot-button nuke-everything kinda thing for the kid, he’s--" Grunkle Stan stopped and let out another frustrated sigh. "-- _Look_ ," he said, sounding like he was levelling with them all. "I think the kid’s…" He glanced over at Great-Uncle Ford. "Hell, _you_ thought he didn’t even have one, and you’ve been, what, tryin’ to kill him for years? Find a weak spot? --He--"

"Family _isn’t_ a weak spot!" Mabel protested, strongly.

"--It is when somebody’s got ‘em held hostage and is usin’ them against you as leverage," Grunkle Stan told them all. "Ford nearly gave up that equation-thingy the triangle wanted so bad over you two, durin’ the whole Weirdmageddon thing." Grunkle Stan glanced over at Great-Uncle Ford. "He knew it, didn’t he? He figured it out _real_ quick."

"...Yes," Great-Uncle Ford was staring at him, now. "Frighteningly so."

"...Which you’d never expect outta somebody who never thought of family as anything other than junk, yeah?" Grunkle Stan said almost leadingly.

"Or, he could have seen someone else do it before, to see how effective it can be," Great-Uncle Ford said slowly, but he seemed almost tense now.

"Triangle wasn’t bein’ theatrical in the pyramid, Ford," Grunkle Stan said, like he was building up steam. Like he was almost… "He almost threw in a ‘two-and-a-half’ there and everything," which confused Dipper (and also his sister) -- but for whatever reason, Great-Uncle Ford seemed to get what he was saying, and he looked almost shocked, even as he shook his head vigorously at Grunkle Stan. "He was shakin’. Actually _shakin’._ That hand... --I couldn’t figure out why, barely thought about it at the time," Grunkle Stan told him, almost urgently. "Thought maybe he was just that angry, except that didn’t fit--"

"Stan--"

"--He didn’t actually want to do it." Grunkle Stan looked both angry and almost… _alarmed_ , now, and the way his grunkle had breathed those words out had the hairs on the back of Dipper’s neck standing on end. "He _really_ , actually… that _son of a--_ " Grunkle Stan grimaced, looking angry as anything. "That was mostly a bluff. --Maybe _half_ a bluff, the stupid--!!" He cut himself off, then looked up at Great-Uncle Ford. "...He would’ve still done it anyway, wouldn’t he," Grunkle Stan said next, still angry, and then some. "He really was still gonna kill Mabel."

"Yes," Great-Uncle Ford said, without any doubt in his expression, tone, body, or voice. "He would have killed her, if you hadn’t stopped him." (Dipper felt a chill go down his spine. Because they were talking about--)

" _We_ stopped him," Grunkle Stan said almost on reflex (which left Dipper blinking). " _Hell._ " Grunkle Stan shook his head. "‘Least _now_ I know why the kid gave me _that_ kinda look, when I told him I don’t want him doin’ anything he doesn’t want to do, ever. That _that’s_ half of what the agreement is for." There was almost a laugh under his tone now. "Still does."

"Stan…" Great-Uncle Ford said quietly.

"--He got all nuts about hearin’ about that other house burning down, y’know. That whole week there," Grunkle Stan said next, sitting back a bit, looking… Dipper wasn’t quite sure what. It was almost like… Grunkle Stan was talking to himself out loud? Trying to finish working something out? "That _home_. Like _his_ home, burnin’ down, too. Kid was goin’ halfway outta his mind, until he fireproofed the Shack, to try and…" Grunkle Stan let out a breath. "--Kid ain’t human, but he _can_ relate. He knows. He knows what that _feels like_ ," Grunkle Stan told them next. "And--"

"...you can’t actually _believe_ that he can--" Great-Uncle Ford began.

"He doesn’t care," Dipper interrupted, unable to keep it in anymore. Because-- "He was going to _kill Mabel_ \--"

"--He _**knows better**_ now," Grunkle Stan said, in tones that reminded Dipper of the zombie apocalypse, what Grunkle Stan had been like then. "He knows what’ll happen if he even _thinks_ of--"

And Dipper saw Grunkle Stan stop, and pull in a breath, as _Great-Uncle Ford_ put a hand on his shoulder.

And he felt Mabel hug him, reminding him that she was here, and okay...

He saw Grunkle Stan breathe for awhile, and then, finally, pick up again, kind of heavily, with, "Kid’s got an idea of what kinda _blackmail_ it’d be, having a _sibling_ as a _hostage_ like that. He’d do damn near _anything_ to get him back, I’d bet." Grunkle Stan sent Great-Uncle Ford a look. " _Except_ tell other people about him. In case they might try and stop him." And Grunkle Stan looked grim as anything as he said next, "Or try and kill that brother of his again, once the kid finally manages to bring him-- back."

And Grunkle Stan wasn’t the only one left blinking at the look of sudden (extremely, _completely horrified_ ) realization that spread across Great-Uncle Ford’s face.

There was a long pause.

"I…" Great-Uncle Ford began slowly, and almost carefully, still looking a little shocked.

Then all three of them jolted in place as Mabel loudly clapped her hands together once.

"So!" Mabel said brightly, with a smile on her face. "No talking about Bill’s brother, because he gets crazy-stupid-protective about him, even when he’s dead! Got it!"

It left Dipper and their great-uncles feeling a little embarrassed, and a little on-edge. They’d almost been talking about Mabel like she hadn’t even been there. And she’d _let_ them do it.

"Sorry," Dipper muttered out at her, pulling down on his cap, and he was.

"It’s fine," Mabel told him, whapping him in the arm with a sweater-covered fist. "Brothers get stupid sometimes about things!" Dipper winced again. (So did Grunkle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford.)

"Uh…" Dipper said, searching for something. It was kinda his turn to try and pick up something else, next. "There’s…" Oh, right. "Bill had that whole thing planned out right from the start, with that fireball spell of his," Dipper noted. "He knew what the campaign was, and he planned stuff out towards that." Dipper had suspected that Bill had done that before, but he really hadn’t ever been that _blatant_ about it, before. Then again… "If he hadn’t ended up using it, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it, though." A lot of things with his campaigns had been like that so far, with Bill. Stuff would happen, and eventually Dipper would trip over something Bill had done, or planned for, and...

"The kid making plans for everything without talkin’ about it is nothin’ new," Grunkle Stan noted, though he sent a look to Great-Uncle Ford, who gave him a nod. "What else."

"He had a whole thing planned out for how a vampire could get food while also not killing anyone," Mabel noted next.

"Well, if the villagers agreed to his plan, at least," Dipper added, not really sure if that actually would’ve worked out so easily, with the way Miz had been playing out the players. They certainly hadn’t seemed like they’d be so open to the idea. ...Unless the ‘not dying after being eaten’ or ‘bitten’ thing might’ve somehow played into it.

"That sound like anything we can use?" Grunkle Stan said next.

Dipper frowned, because was it, really? "I mean, the dumb dorito’s really talky," Dipper noted. "He’s still really easy to distract with talking, to make him stop fighting." But they all already knew that. Just because it worked with _them_ , though, didn’t mean it’d work with the rest of the town. Heck, during Weirdmageddon, it hadn’t actually stopped Bill from…

"Wait." Dipper paused as something else occurred to him. "Is that why Bill didn’t kill anyone in town during Weirdmageddon?" He looked up at Great-Uncle Ford. "He turned everybody into stone, and they all just… it wasn’t anything close to permanent." The whole stone chair had just fallen apart, so easily, and... Dipper’s eyes widened as something else occurred to him. "He actually _stopped_ when he thought you gave up," Dipper said to Great-Uncle Ford, as he realized... "Except you didn’t just give up, you made a deal with him, right?" he asked Grunkle Stan next. "The equation, for us safe."

"He likely wouldn’t have kept that deal, Dipper," Great-Uncle Ford told him.

Dipper almost protested, because _what if--_

\--but then Grunkle Stan told them, " _I_ didn’t think he was gonna hold up his end of any deal." And that made Dipper feel pretty uncomfortable (because Grunkle Stan knew a liar when he saw one), but...

"Okay, but, he didn’t kill anybody in town. He _could’ve_. Would making the eyebats have killer laser beam eyes be _harder_ , just zapping everybody dead, than zapping them all stonified and flying them all back to the Fearamid?" Dipper asked kind of rhetorically. Because if he was some evil triangle demon who was at least as bad as… heck, as Gideon if _he’d_ had Bill’s powers, instead of Bill himself? "Why would he even need people, to make a chair out of them? He made a whole floating pyramid thing out of nothing!" It made absolutely, literally zero sense. And as much as Dipper would like to just write the dumb dorito off as having zero sense… "Did he just forget to furnish the stupid thing?"

"...No," Great-Uncle Ford said slowly. "I was… upstairs in the Fearamid at one point. Unfrozen. When Bill first asked... well, _demanded_ for the equation out of my mind, I woke up in the ‘penthouse suite’, as it were. It was fully-furnished," Great-Uncle Ford told them with a frown.

"Okay, so… he was just keeping them around… why?" Dipper asked. "I mean, this is evil overlord 101, right? Why would he do that? --I _know_ he doesn’t make sense practically any of the time, but..." It was just so frustrating!

"...Maybe," Great-Uncle Ford said slowly, but he looked almost pained as he said it. "He…" He pulled in a slow breath, then looked to... "Dipper, do you remember… did you hear anything he told the town, while I was setting up the quantum destabilizer?" Great-Uncle Ford asked him. "Or did any of your friends tell you what he said, afterwards? Their actual interactions with him would be very important--" Great-Uncle Ford stopped, seeming to realize something that made him almost cringe.

Dipper frowned. Bill _had_ been talking to them all. "No. Uh… I could ask Pacifica?" He knew she had been right there.

"Yeah, okay. Gonna table that one for now, then. --Anything else?" Grunkle Stan said.

"No, wait," Dipper said. "I just--" He glanced over at Great-Uncle Ford. "Do you really think that he might’ve, uh, _maybe_ wanted to make a deal with the people in town, too? Like… like maybe trying to make a compromise with that vampire and the villagers?"

Great-Uncle Ford and Grunkle Stan exchanged a look.

"...That’s ...possible," Great-Uncle Ford said, with great reserve, and Stan rubbed his face. "But… it would _not_ have gone well, for _any_ of them. I…" he looked away.

"Other dimensional stuff?" Mabel said.

"Yes," Great-Uncle Ford said tersely. "I’d rather _not_ … talk about it."

...Well, _that_ wasn’t completely worrying at all. With, y’know, Bill apparently _owning_ other dimensions -- like the one his hat apparently connected to -- and doing who-knew- _what_ with them. Dipper and Mabel exchanged another look.

Dipper frowned. Because, the more he thought about it… the whole thing with the chair was just… poor planning. It was almost as if Bill had purposely set things up so that all those townsfolk could be freed quickly and all at once. And Bill had let Gideon know how to free the townsfolk. he had to have done that; how else could Gideon have known about that? But why would Bill do that? Had he been gloating, or something? Letting him know how easy it would be for somebody to let him out of that dancing cage, if only he could just reach…? --Okay, nevermind, that kind of gloating _did_ sound like something Bill would do. Ugh. Stupid dorito.

...There was so much they still didn't understand about Bill. Like why he’d attacked them all to begin with; why had he invaded earth? Because from what Dipper had learned in all this time around him, Bill always had a reason for doing what he did. Maybe it was something that they would never think, and usually it still didn’t make any sense -- because the dumb dorito _was_ insane -- but... A crazy party and taking over the Earth? That wasn't a reason, that was an action. "How is throwing a Weirdmageddon party supposed to help bring back Bill’s brother?" Dipper groaned out.

Grunkle Stan sighed. "Pretty sure that was just the ‘hey, I’ve escaped’ celebration. Ain’t like I got a lot of pushback from the kid on not trying to pull one of those again. --More like, _none_ ," he said, sending a look to Great-Uncle Ford. "Kid made it sound more like it was for the demons than for him."

"That’s…" Great-Uncle Ford blinked, then got a thinking frown. And he got quiet.

"Well, Miz said that Bill plans to overthrow the Axolotl," Mabel put out there. "Maybe he needs to do that, before he can get his brother back?" she spitballed. "And he needs help from his friends to do that? Do _they_ want to take over the world before helping him with that?"

Stan scratched his chin. "Kid’s okay with not talking with his demon ‘friends’, for at least a while. But the whole apocalypse thing is off the plate now; he needed his friends to take over the place. The way the kid’s talked about it, he thought he needed them to do that to make this dimension ‘his’, and to make people _agree_ with that. --I told him he don’t need to do that. Not sure I’ve completely convinced him yet, though," Grunkle Stan noted, crossing his arms. "Kid’s definitely changing tactics now, like I want him to. He's got _some_ new plan in mind. Hasn’t gone over it with me, yet." ...Yeah, a plan that probably involved Grunkle Stan, somehow. Dipper remembered seeing how Bill had reacted when Grunkle Stan had said… and the way Great-Uncle Ford had panicked _hadn’t_ made anything better. Bill thought Grunkle Stan would, and _could_ help him out with something, somehow, as crazy and off-the-wall as that was.

"Whatever. I’ll get it outta him eventually. Maybe after his sister’s left again, and he don’t have to worry about her maybe being disapproving of people getting killed, ‘accidentally’ or otherwise," Grunkle Stan mused out loud. "--Murder ain't the kid's first option, though. Not unless he thinks that’s what he’s gotta do to get what he wants. --It’s why I want him talking to me so much," Grunkle Stan said at Great-Uncle Ford, "Coming to me, first. --I’ve been giving him options. He comes to me, I tell him what I don’t like, what crosses my line, and I give him more choices. Anytime I can give him something better, he takes it and runs with it, every time."

"Bill doesn’t _do_ ‘better’, he does _worse_ ," Great-Uncle Ford said disparagingly.

"I don’t care _how_ he defines it, as long as he sticks to only doin’ stuff that I’m okay with!" Grunkle Stan ground out at him, and they both started looking combative.

"Is that part of the rules?" Mabel asked next, and it left the three of them blinking again. "I mean, in Dipper’s games, you almost _have_ to kill bad guys to get experience to level up, right? If Bill wasn’t in our party, he wouldn’t get any experience at all, almost. But Miz’s game wasn’t like that," Mabel told them. "She said we’d all get the same amount of experience, just for playing, right?"

"That isn’t how real life works, though," Dipper noted.

"But it kinda is! Well, at least sort of," Mabel said next, walking it back a little, almost embarrassed. "I mean, everybody has different experiences, and… um… it’s okay for me to be really good at knitting, and you’re good at DDNMD, and Grunkle Ford is really good at baking--"

"It’s simply an application of organic chemistry," Great-Uncle Ford said, with a slight blush.

"Which you almost never do," Grunkle Stan said, eyeing him. "When’s the last time I saw _you_ cook, huh?"

"We don’t have an oven on the Stan ‘o War II, Stan," Great-Uncle Ford pointed out, to a "Whose fault is that, huh? With all your geeky gadgets and--" he was cut off by _Great-Uncle Ford_ messing up _his_ hair, with a veritable _smile_ on his face.

Mabel couldn’t help but giggle. "I bet Miz would be so jealous to see Ford bake! She can’t bake at all. She told me that. Was feeling pretty down at herself about it, actually." That was an interesting piece of trivia, but Stan steered the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"Right. Dragon-lady’s got negative-1 points in cooking that involves pastries." That got another giggle out of Mabel. "So, what. You think the kid’s maybe blowing smoke on that one, with the game? He’s convinced that's the system he has to work with, killing people the second it looks like they won’t leave him alone?" Stan put out there, then frowned. "Like... maybe not an experience thing. Maybe it’s…. more of a progress thing?" Grunkle Stan noted, though he didn’t sound very sure of it. "Kid tried to keep us pretty on-track in your games, Dipper. We don’t hit too many ‘encounters’ just for killing; he helps the most when we’re powering through stuff to get to the… it’s the whole plot thing. To get to the end of the thing. To get where we’re going." Grunkle Stan frowned even further. "In your games, we can only progress if we kill the stuff that’s in our way, so he... does that." And now Grunkle Stan looked like he wanted to curse for some reason.

"But he finds it boring," Mabel noted, which left Dipper feeling… weird about the whole thing.

"Does he really just want to… _talk_ his way around stuff, the whole time?" Dipper asked, because… Did he? Bill… _did_ practically interrupt his own fights with them, when they started talking to him. He stopped fighting, and started… well, _taunting_ , most times, but--

"--Yes," Great-Uncle Ford said, "But that is _only_ because he tends to get more out of it. Having people working _for_ him increases his reach, and exponentially increases what he can do, if he can convince someone strongly enough that they will then _go out_ recruiting _others_ to his cause." And he sent some kind of a look Grunkle Stan’s way that Dipper didn’t quite catch.

"Wait. Bill has a cause?" Dipper said, confused.

"Getting his brother back?" Mabel asked, then frowned. "But Grunkle Ford, you said he doesn’t talk about that with anybody else."

"That _isn’t_ …" Great-Uncle Ford began, then grimaced and stopped. "I’d rather _not_."

And for some reason, that had Grunkle Stan giving Great-Uncle Ford a _very_ long look.

"...What does Bill _usually_ tell everybody and their dog that he wants?" Grunkle Stan asked, and Great-Uncle Ford grimaced, looked down at his hands, and admitted:

"I don’t know," Great-Uncle Ford said quietly. "I’ve refused to listen to him, any time the subject has ever come up." And from looking at him, it was pretty clear that Great-Uncle Ford didn’t want to know. ~~Though for some reason that Dipper didn’t understand, he also looked a little _afraid_ for whatever reason he had right then, too.~~

Well, Dipper didn’t blame him. It was probably some stupid, insane thing that didn’t have anything to do with anything. Because if it wasn’t about Bill’s brother, and that was what he really wanted…

...then whatever the dumb dorito was telling people instead wasn’t _really_ important, then, was it? It couldn’t be.

Grunkle Stan let out a sigh, Great-Uncle Ford grimaced a bit, and after a little more talking (this time about Miz, instead of Bill, and how she had played -- and whether she’d had any ulterior motives with what she’d been doing or not, because apparently Grunkle Stan thought she was a little more twisty and less direct than Bill Cipher himself?), they concluded their discussion, with Dipper and Mabel going back to their room for a bit, while Stan went to the kitchen to start working on dinner.

And once Dipper was back in their room, he grabbed his old journal -- the one Mabel had given him at the end of last summer -- and sat down on his bed. He pulled out a pen (not paying much attention to his twin as she tossed herself into her own bed across the room from him, and grabbed up one of her stuffed animals to hug), and started scribbling down all the new things he had just learned. There was so much they still didn’t know about Bill! --Even worse, every new thing they learned only brought up even more questions for him. (Admittedly, the problem was driving him a little nuts, because the more questions he asked, the more questions he _had_ , and it was starting to get to the point that a _lot_ of those questions could only be answered by Bill--)

Dipper bit his pen as he frowned. Still, he was getting closer to something. And the more they knew, the closer they’d get to figuring out how to get rid of Bill once and for all.

The only problem _now_ was, did they talk about the whole ‘brother’ thing with Old Man McGucket, or not?

And to figure out the answer to that question, Dipper glanced up at Mabel.

"Hey, sis?" Dipper began.

\---

(Back to the present. After Miz and Bill and "the Grunkles" return from the diner)

\---

"Welcome back~!" Mabel greeted them when they got home. Miz waved, but Bill simply nodded at her before he not-quite pulled Miz with him up the stairs and out of sight. Mabel blinked at seeing this, before turning to them both to ask, "What's wrong with Bill?"

"Ran into Gideon at the diner." Stan made his way past her to the living room.

Mabel winced at this. _That_ couldn’t have gone well. She remembered the tap-dancing cage. "Did he--"

"Bill and Miz got out before he could see 'em," Stan told her, not quite collapsing into seat in his sofa chair with a grunt.

"Bill didn't do something really bad to him, did he?" Mabel asked, though she clearly had _some_ mixed feelings on the subject. (Mostly because she thought that nobody deserved to have Bill torturing them with sailor dance moves forever, not even Gideon, 'reformed' or not.)

"Nah," Stan waved off. "Kid got himself and his sister outta there without the little jerk even realizing they were there." Gideon had been on a fishing expedition there with his questions. He hadn't wanted to run into the kid; he'd only stopped sweating once he'd thought Bill wasn't nearby, and that Ford had things under control.

"More importantly," Ford knelt down in front of Mabel. "What happened between you and Gideon? The man-eater claims he tried to kill your brother--"

And from the way Mabel stiffened and looked away, Ford began to frown. (And Stan's frown deepened.)

" _How many_ times has that little jerk tried to kill you two?" was Stan's question next, not like he didn't know about the explosives in the mountain rock heads -- he'd been there; he remembered it -- and Ford whipped his head around to look over at him in shock.

"Um…" Mabel dissembled, and that sent a chill down Ford's spine. "I mean, he didn't really try to kill _me_ until the thing with the mayoral election?" she said with a sigh, not looking too happy just then. Then she looked up with a _frown_.

"Gideon didn't say anything about _Dipper_ , did he?" Mabel said next, with something of a steely glint in her eye, and a set to her jaw, and...

"No," Ford said, not quite rushing to reassure(?) her. "Gideon said nothing about you or your brother. Just Bill."

" **Good** ," Mabel said with a nod, still looking quite uncharacteristically serious to Ford.

Ford paused for a moment, taking this in before adding, "...Bill seemed rather adamant about Miz not meeting, seeing, or talking to Gideon, for some reason."

"Really?" And then, rather suddenly, Mabel went back to being her usual smiling and cheerful self. "Well, I guess Bill maybe has another reason not to go into town and make a big scene now, right? That's good," she said next, rather brightly, before going back to her coloring book.

Ford started at her where he was kneeling down in front of her, rather at a loss for words.

He looked up at Stan, and his brother exchanged a look with him that Ford didn't quite understand, before turning away from him and picking up the remote to the TV.

Ford slowly stood up again as Stan clicked the TV on. He rather wanted to ask after the mayoral election (-- had he missed something important? He’d given the mid-control tie to the niblings to help them help him win the thing, and he remembered hearing that Stan had in fact won the election... but had also then lost it because he hadn't filled out the proper paperwork, apparently, among other things like his long history of _known_ criminal enterprises and crimes…). But with the way Stan was acting, turning on the TV so dismissively like that, his brother clearly didn't want to talk about it just then.

Ford frowned as he turned away, walking across Stan's view as he headed for the gift shop and basement (to no response from Stan, not even a complaint at said view-blocking).

But when he got to the door to the basement in the gift shop, and saw Dipper at the Mystery Shack’s register counter with Melody, he thought the better of letting the question go so completely, and stopped at the vending machine opening to ask, "...Dipper, could I talk with you downstairs for a moment?"

Dipper looked up, and then nodded and got up, closing his book and putting it under one arm, but stopped (and almost winced), when Melody said, "I can take a break in 5 minutes."

"Ah," said Ford, "That's… good to know?"

Melody gave him something of a significant look. (And Dipper was staying right where he was… _why?_ )

"Dr. Pines," Melody said to him, "With all due respect, Dipper and Mabel aren't supposed to be out of sight of myself, Soos, or Mr. Pines for the rest of the week.

Ford blinked. Then he remembered. "Ah, yes." The punishment Stan had given them. He paused for a moment, as he realized that Dipper was still standing over by the counter, and Ford began to frown, not understanding the problem. "But surely, it would be alright if Dipper remains with _me_ \--"

"--Mr. Pines didn't say you were on the list," Melody told him, and that stopped Ford right in his tracks, a bit stunned. "But you can ask Mr. Pines if you like," Melody said simply, and Ford stared at her.

"Surely, that was an oversight--!" Ford began to protest, but at Melody's lack of change in expression, and Dipper's slight wince in place where he stood...

"You can ask him," Melody repeated. "He just went in with you, didn't he?"

"...Yes, he did," Ford frowned.

And then Ford's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Mabel was in the living room _alone_ just now," Ford began, at the realization that the niblings were apparently being given unequal treatment in this regard, and he saw Dipper grimace slightly and look away from him, rubbing at the side of his arm, as Melody said:

"The door was open; I could see her from here. Mr. Pines closed it after you, Bill, and Miz walked in."

Ford stared at her. And then Ford looked down at Dipper.

Dipper looked up at him, with a half-strained smile.

"...We could talk up here?" Dipper tried, then looked away almost embarrassed and ashamed as Ford felt his own face fall.

Ford stared down at Dipper for a moment, and then he knew what he must do. His course was clear.

Ford straightened up to his full height in place.

"I'm going to go talk to Stan about this," Ford declared, turning on his heel and striding back through the door to the living room.

"Good luck!" he heard Melody call out good-naturedly behind him, as if she truly meant it (she probably did, given what he knew of her), and Ford barely stifled the wince.

He strode into the living room of the Shack, and was greeted with the sight of Stan watching some odd show about babies slapping each other.

Ford stared at this scene for a moment.

And then he shook his head slightly, firmed his resolve with a steely glare at his brother, and opened his mouth to--

\---

Ford sighed as he stepped out of the elevator with Dipper, down at the basement level.

\--It had been a win that still felt like a loss. He and Stan had talked, and Stan had _gotten up_ and _followed him back into the gift shop_ , to explicitly tell Melody _himself_ that Ford was now 'cleared' to watch _one_ of the niblings at a time, anywhere _inside_ the house, on his own.

\--But not both of the niblings together, not either of them alone after 10pm, and not with any of them one single step outside of the house. Not the parking lot, not the yard, not even a single one of the porches, even though the niblings were not constrained to the house proper and could go out onto the porches and out into the yard with _proper, **'adult'**_ supervision.

And Ford had had to swear up and down to his brother that he _wouldn't_ try to help the niblings get around their grounding, to get even _that_ much.

It grated on Ford that he was given so little trust by _his own brother_ in this respect. ...Not least of which because _Stan himself_ was, of the two of them, the more childish and less-responsible one by far...

\--It wasn't as though Ford had _approved_ of what the niblings had done, risking themselves life and limb, let alone to that extent! If Bill had realized what they had done before he and Ford had realized something was wrong, or simply been more _resistant_ to Stan's demands at first, and gone after them both _alone_ \--

(Hearing Mabel try to protest on his behalf that Stan was planning on giving _Bill_ 'full' watching privileges in less than a week, more than he was giving Ford himself now, ‘so why didn’t Grunkle Ford even get that much?’, didn't exactly improve Ford's mood any, either.)

(To this, Stan had said that Bill getting _that_ was going to be contingent on 'the kid' actually _understanding_ what 'babysitting them' meant, and... _proving_ it. Somehow. --A point upon which Stan was not at all clear with them on, as to what the _specifics_ of what that might actually entail, to a degree that it left Ford suspicious of what-all his brother was leaving out of this ‘magical’ solution and training course he was apparently, supposedly going to be putting Bill Cipher of all people, though, in order to get him to such a point.)

(But still, there **was** the existence of a 'somehow' that Stan seemed completely adamant about and upon prior to this allowance for Bill -- a fact which only marginally made things better, in Ford's own opinion…)

But what was done was done. Stan was being critically stubborn about this, and -- more importantly and rather _worse_ in For’s own opinion -- the kids were listening more to Stan than to _him_ on this, so Ford would have to go along with it for the interim.

...Well, at least he could have Dipper down in his lab with him, now ~~without having to drag his grandnephew down there 'against his will' and Stan's own expressed 'orders', risking his twin brother's own ire and who-knew- _what_ else, with Bill Cipher currently at his brother's back...~~.

Once they were downstairs with the elevator door shut, and Ford had finished checking the space for eavesdroppers both inert and active, electronic and biological (cryptids included), once again... the scientist let out a soft sigh and sat down in a chair, motioning for Dipper to take his own seat in a nearby one as well.

And once his grand-nephew was seated, Ford asked him what he'd wanted to ask him upstairs. "Dipper, how many times has Gideon tried to kill you."

"Three," Dipper told him promptly.

Ford blinked at him, taken aback.

"Gideon Gleeful has tried to kill you three times?" Ford repeated. He felt… almost odd about it. How very matter-of-fact his nephew was being about--

Dipper nodded, then grimaced. "Well, okay," Dipper told him next. "Maybe he wasn't _actually_ trying to kill me the second time… Oh, wait," Dipper said, straightening in place, and Ford was about to breathe a sigh of relief at Dipper's rethinking of whatever situation, up until Dipper said next, "Are we counting Weirdmageddon stuff, too? Because then it's _definitely_ three, maybe four."

Ford managed to keep his composure, as he tried to tamp down the rising rage he was feeling internally.

"...Perhaps you could start from the beginning?" Ford said. "Just so that I understand the situation more clearly, and fully. What did he try to do the first time?"

Dipper nodded. "The first time, he tried to cut me in half with some shears, though Mabel stopped him. And then we both almost died falling out a window and off the side of a cliff after that, except Mabel caught us both then, too. --But the falling thing was an accident; neither of us were trying to do that, it's not like Gideon was trying to take me with him."

Ford blinked. Shears? How did one… "And the second time?" Ford prompted.

"The second time, Gideon tossed me onto the top of a cliff face after grabbing Mabel," Dipper told him next. "I… kinda cratered a… kinda-long furrow into the ground, and almost hit my head on a big rock behind me pretty hard. But I think that was maybe an accident, therock thing." And Ford stared as Dipper told him, "It's not like he tried to toss me off into the trees of the woods way farther down or something; he was just trying to get me out of the way, not actually try and kill me, right then." Then Dipper let out a sigh and told him, "...And we both fell down when his robot tumbled over a cliff in the middle of our fight, but that was an accident, too. And, uh, when I fell out of the robot, Mabel caught me before we hit the ground. That would have been an accident, too." Dipper gave him a rueful, almost embarrassed smile, as Ford looked on at him in confusion. There had been some sort of robot involved in this?

"--That was from the time when Gideon got that giant robot to chase the bus down after Stan tried to send us home, since we became homeless because Gideon stole the deed to the shack," Dipper told him, at Ford's look of confusion. (...And now Ford knew what his nibling was referring to, somewhat -- when 'the Shack being taken over' had come up, Stan had grimaced, grumbled, and said he remembered that, and they'd skipped over that page of the scrapbook almost entirely.)

"What robot did you fall out of?" Ford asked him.

"Oh, uh, Gideon had Old Man McGucket make this huge robot that kind of looked like himself," Dipper told him. "They set it up right by the Shack. We didn’t know it’d actually work, until Gideon was actually piloting it around. We thought Gideon had just had that made up as some kind of big metal statue or something, for the amusement park he’d been talking about in those TV ads he’d been showing. Like some kind of mascot at the front gates?"

Ford stared at him, feeling a little faint. Fiddleford had created a robot that… had been used to almost _kill_ his grand-niece and -nephew??

"So, yeah. --Oh, the third time he tried to kill us was with a bunch of fireworks during the town election… uh, except I guess he thought it would only trap us inside the head of that memorial statue of the mayor. --But we were practically sitting right on top of all of it, and Gideon only said he was going to leave Mabel in there after she said she’d rather die than marry him!" Dipper let out a huff, _now_ starting to look more than a little angry, before he calmed down again.

"...The fourth time?" Ford prompted, slowly, not wanting to derail his grand-nephew. ...But, _marriage?_ What did that have to do with any of this?! (Ford refused to think about how the man-eater had said something about romance, when she had been telling him about the reasons why she had thought Gideon had done the things that he did.)

"And the fourth was when Gideon was working for Bill during the beginning of Weirdmageddon--" Dipper stopped. "Uh, but I guess that kinda doesn't count," Dipper said " _Everybody_ was acting pretty crazy back then, and Gideon probably would've ended up in that cage a lot sooner if he hadn't tried to get back on Bill's good side again…"

Ford forced himself to pull in a breath, and let it out just as slowly.

~~(He also held back the instinctive "Bill has no good side!" rebuttal.)~~

"Are there any other times that you've fought with Gideon that seem particularly notable?" Ford asked him, attempting to stay (at least outwardly) calm.

"Well…" Dipper paused. "Uh, I guess... --Well, there was this one time, when Gideon shrunk me and Mabel down to, uh, about an inch tall, and kept us in a jar? But he wasn't actually trying to kill us that time, just get us out of the way." Dipper grimaced. "We wouldn't have gotten caught like that if we hadn't been fighting over the shrinking-growing crystal flashlight right out in the open in front of him, though," Dipper admitted. "So I guess we were kind of asking for it. Gideon couldn't have done that if we hadn't been fighting over it, or if we’d seen him there; we would’ve stopped sooner. He just took advantage of the situation." Dipper shrugged. "Oh, and Mabel and Soos saw Gideon summon Bill and make a deal with him, to have Bill go into Grunkle Stan's mind looking for the code to his safe, so Gideon could sneak in and steal the deed to the Shack. --That was when we first met him. Bill, I mean," Dipper noted.

"I see," said Ford, and he believed that he was, in fact, starting to see. When Dipper and Mabel had first brought up 'fighting Bill', post-Bill's return when he'd asked for more information, they'd talked about following Bill into Stan's mind and how they’d fought him there (in far more detail than listing off his weaknesses to him in abbreviated form the summer prior) -- but they hadn't said _why_ they'd done it, and Ford hadn't asked at the time. They'd all been far too focused on identifying Bill's weaknesses, and...

...Ford was starting to see how very much of a mistake that had been.

"And… Gideon hasn't faced any punishment at all, for any of this?" Ford asked very carefully. ( _That_ was something that was going to have to be rectified quickly, post-haste.)

"Well, we got him put in real adult prison for spying on the town," Dipper noted. "--That had to do with the whole robot thing. We couldn't really get him jailed for just kidnapping Mabel, or trying to kill me, since we didn't really have any proof." Dipper shrugged at this, though he did look at least a little frustrated at such an egregious lack of justice and fairness. "And he was already in prison when he tried to blow us up. --We’re not really sure how he did it, but he was controlling Bud Gleeful to move him around and talk for him, somehow. ...Maybe it was part of that video belt he was wearing?" Dipper shrugged. "He _did_ try to help us out during Weirdmageddon, though," Dipper noted, looking more than a little conflicted about it. " _Twice._ Once with Mabel's bubble, and once with the circle? So… we decided to give him kind of a second chance, I guess," Dipper told him. "Gideon leaves us alone, and we leave him alone. No more bothering me or Mabel."

"I see," said Ford. And he was exercising all his self control now, to not let any of the rage show on his face. (He didn’t have to _like_ the fact that apparently his grand-nephew and -niece had, in at least _some_ respect, apparently _forgiven_ this little troglodyte for his transgressions.) He had to force himself to take in another deep breath before he said, rather neutrally: "And, for what reason did Gideon believe he thought he had reason to kill you?" Because the man-eater had been right about the shears, but surely she had been lying or misunderstanding about that child making these murder attempts simply from being slighted from Mabel's affections--

Dipper snorted. "It’s not like he had a good reason," Dipper told him. "He was just obsessed with Mabel. He pressured her into dating him, and got upset when she broke up with him. I mean, he actually wanted her to _marry_ him, which was pretty crazy. I think maybe he still does." Dipper shuddered. "Mabel just doesn't like him back. He refused to accept that. And it’s not like attacking any of us is gonna do anything but make things worse with his chances with her, not that he really got that."

Ford twitched, because... How, exactly, was this a thing? --And _why_ wasn't Dipper more upset about it? That Gleeful boy had tried to kill him multiple times, and had gone after Mabel in a terrible fashion, but his great-nephew was largely acting like it wasn't a _horrendous_ problem of the highest order--

"He tried to kill you, because Mabel broke up with him?" Ford just couldn’t understand. Being turned down by someone was _not_ enough to have any sane individual resorting to… to _murder_ atttempts on the sibling of the object of their affection in… in some plot for _revenge!_ That was insane! And the Gleeful boy was only 10 years old! He would have merely been 9 years old last summer, when the niblings were 12, and… that was a three year age difference, and at that age-- That wasn’t--

Dipper shrugged. "Like Mabel says: he’s a creepy little dork," was all Dipper had to say about it, apparently in his sister’s own words.

This was insane. Completely and utterly-- " _Why_ haven't his parents _disciplined_ him for--"

"For what? We didn’t have proof for most of this stuff, and Bud was okay with setting up that arranged marriage thing with Grunkle Stan in the first place, when Gideon first started dating her. And Grunkle Stan was pushing for it, too, until Mabel told him she didn’t want to. Then he was all kind of, ‘whatever’ about it, like it wasn’t a big deal that she didn’t want to." (Good. Because Ford would have to murder his own brother, if he hadn’t.) "I dunno. Gideon had this bolo tie thing he was using for his shows and stuff. I didn’t even realize that was how he was doing half his act, until he used it on me to try and kill me with those shears. There was this blue gem, that I think was actually the important part. I don't know where he got it? But Mabel destroyed it," Dipper muttered. "And, well, between that and whatever he did to control Bud, I don’t think Gideon’s parents could exactly stop him from doing whatever he wanted. I mean, he summoned Bill just to get the code to Grunkle Stan’s safe, and then blew it up because he got _impatient_ waiting for Bill to get it for him. I mean, who _summons a demon_ just to--"

Thinking over things, something suddenly connected for Ford that made him go cold. "Wait! Gideon had-- he had an… you said it was a large blue gemstone? Was he able to use it to levitate objects?" Ford asked, as he pulled out a piece of paper, and started sketching.

"Ah, yeah. He was able to levitate a lot of stuff with it." Dipper frowned slightly, then sat up a bit straighter. "Wait, you know about it?" Dipper asked next, just before Ford showed him the image.

"Is this--" Ford began to ask, but Dipper was already nodding. He lowered the sketch. "That mystic amulet is something I found. The use of it bleaches the user’s hair white, and corrupts their soul."

"Yeah, that’s a pretty good description of Gideon Gleeful," Dipper noted. "Are you sure it was just the amulet, though? He hasn’t had it for awhile…"

"Soul corruption is not easily purged," Ford noted, though he couldn’t help but frown. "I thought I had hidden it well." He’d written down the location in Journal 2, but… no. Surely not. No elementary school child could possibly be so conniving or clever as to manage to find it, or dig it up, with how he hid it on those school grounds. That was the entire reason he’d hidden it there -- with that much foot traffic and children nearby, no-one so shady that Bill would be able to make use of them would be able to approach the building without being stopped, let alone begin the difficult process of retrieval.

...And yet Stan had had that journal in his possession, upon his return. (And no offense to his brother, but Stan would never have been allowed near a school building as an adult, even if he _had_ been inclined to approach a school again.) Stan would not want to enter any school grounds without a very strong reason to do so -- which was, in retrospect, an even less likely occurrence. And Gideon had been the one who had had the amulet on him, not Stan, and Stan would not be one to throw something so potentially useful out; he would hardly care about the potential corruption of his soul either, Ford had no doubt. Which meant...

"Dipper, _how long_ did Gideon have access to Journal 2?" Ford asked him rather urgently, to a rather blank look from his grand-nephew.

"Gideon didn’t have Journal 2," Dipper told him with a frown. "Grunkle Stan did. He was just missing Journal 3, until I told him about it."

Ford frowned. "You are absolutely certain that Gideon never saw or knew of any of the Journals?" he queried him.

Dipper frowned at this. "Uh. Actually, Gideon _did_ know about the journals." Dipper looked almost shocked. "--I nearly forgot! That's why he was chasing me and Mabel down with the robot. He took my Journal 3 when we tried to get the Shack back the first time, and he was yelling at me about the _other_ journal. He thought I had another one! So, he must have had either Journal 1 or Journal 2, right? Oh, man..." Dipper buried his face in his hands. "I didn’t even think about that. I was so distracted with everything else that…" Dipper muttered out.

"It’s all right, my boy," Ford comforted him, resting a hand on his shoulder, which had Dipper slowly lowering his hands to look up at him again. "I myself have not always been able to keep track of everything, in the heat of the moment. That you remember him saying such at all is a testament to your memory and recollection ability." Ford smiled at him. He truly was proud of his grand-nephew. He hadn’t realized what sorts of things he and Mabel had been facing all throughout the past summer.

(...Not that much of it wasn’t, apparently, entirely stoppable, if not avoidable. Ford would just have to see to it that his niblings wouldn’t have to face any of _that_ sort of thing from _this_ particular miscreant, ever again.)

Dipper flushed a bit. "I should have thought of it, though."

"Well, we are getting to the truth of the matter together, now," Ford told him, before frowning further. "It is not as though I did not note Gideon’s hair color, myself. Given the general appearance of his parents, I should have suspected such far earlier myself." He himself had not asked Stan. _how_ he had managed to find the journals, either -- and, apparently, he really should have. "I’ll have to conduct research into the purification of souls, again." He’d tossed away some of it when he’d discarded his journals in the Pit; the rest of those Bill-tainted papers, he and his family had burned along with every other Bill-tainted thing that had remained anywhere in the house.

"I really don’t think it’s gonna make much difference with Gideon Gleeful," Dipper told him almost warningly. "It’s not like Bud’s really any better."

"We shall see," Ford said neutrally. Then he paused for a moment. "It certainly does not excuse his behavior towards either you, _or_ your sister."

"Well, yeah," Dipper said, like he thought that such a conclusion was obvious, and Ford couldn’t quite hold back the laugh.

"You know," Ford told him, "While I may have written a substantial amount of those spells, rituals, and curses that I researched down in Journal 2…" He paused for dramatic effect -- well, only _slightly_ \-- but could one blame him? Because... "...I did _not_ write down absolutely _everything_ in there that I found," Ford confided in his young (unofficial) protege, with a small (and not quite evil) smile. "So if you would like to know a few things that even Gideon could not possibly have ever known about real, true magic…"

And with that, Ford was rewarded with a very excited, happy smile from his young grand-nephew, who certainly deserved far better when it came to the knowledge of magic, than an accidental localized zombie apocalypse, a desperate and hurried attempt to forestall Bill’s invasion of Stan’s mind, and whatever terrible things that this Gideon child had tried to inflict upon him. Dipper deserved _far_ better than that.

(And yes, Ford was going to still talk about this with Stan, to confirm what he already knew now must be true. Gideon had had what sounded like the mystic amulet, along with the ritual to summon Bill. Both had been things that he had written down in Journal 2, and neither of which would have otherwise been accessible in any way to an elementary school child by any means. The amulet had been secured by one of Fiddleford’s own locking -- and passcoded -- inventions, and the caves were a several day hike out into the woods from the town. The chances of a nine year old somehow stumbling across that old native cave that had Bill's drawings and warnings in it were absolutely, and perfectly, zero. It would be, unbelievable as it was, far more likely for an elementary school aged child to have somehow retrieval Journal 2 from its hiding location. This all led Ford to his final conclusion: Gideon, at some point, for an unknown amount of time, had read at _least_ part of Journal 2.)

And Ford felt like a bit of an idiot. The niblings had _told_ him that Gideon had summoned Bill to make a Deal with him; he should have put it together sooner, the fact that Gideon knew how to summon Bill must have meant that-- But he had become so used to the idea of Bill being ever-present and so well-known throughout the multiverse that the thought simply hadn’t crossed his mind that, no, Bill’s summoning circle _shouldn’t_ have been so freely-known here. Thirty years had passed, yes, and it could have been possible that Bill had made a larger foothold in this, his home dimension, but _he should have checked_. And he hadn’t. The first two people he’d talked to in this dimension had known of Bill Cipher, and...

...yes, he supposed he’d had other, more pressing things on his mind, such as properly securing his mind during sleep, and the Rift, but...

Ford sighed as he slowly got up, and moved off to the larger lab space, with Dipper all but bouncing in excitement at his heels. Of course Gideon had learned all of this from his Journal. Of course he had.

(Had he copied down the instructions for any of those spells and curses from his journal at some point? How dangerous was the child, still? Were those spells part of what allowed him to keep those rather dangerous-looking bodyguards of his in line?)

None of this was making Ford feel any better. Because even disregarding everything-- the fact remained that Gideon Gleeful had tried to kill another child, multiple times. Two, in fact: both Dipper and Mabel. His grand-nephew and grand-niece.

...and apparently no-one in town really cared, or even knew anything at all about it?

~~How much did Stan know, that he hadn’t told him? _Why_ hadn’t he told him?~~

"Great-Uncle Ford? Are you okay?" Dipper asked in worry, apparently at the expression on Ford's face.

Ford rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. This wasn't normal. It couldn't be. It shouldn’t be. (Was he really so out of touch with what was or wasn’t normal anymore? Forgiving and giving a second chance to someone who had tried on multiple occasions to kill you, who you still didn’t really like, was one thing. It was barely conceivable, but perhaps somewhere within the realm of possibility. _Maybe._ But the fact that Gideon was free to just… waltz around town with those bodyguards of his, even after multiple attempted murders -- convicted or not -- and no-one was doing anything about that? Should Stanley be up in arms over all of this madness? And how exactly had Gideon been able to be convicted for spying on the town, but _not_ any of these multitudinous attempted murders?)

"Dipper, I know this may be something of an odd and pointed question, but _why_ isn’t Gideon still in prison?" Ford finally asked, as they strode into his lab space together.

Dipper shrugged. "Well, the convicted criminals that broke out during Weirdmageddon aren’t in prison anymore, either." ...And that was considered acceptable as well? This town… (He hadn’t any idea at all, about any of this. It just made Ford feel even worse about all of this, that he hadn’t even _known_...) "I mean, we told everybody about what had happened, so they all know that Gideon helped us when we were trying to get rid of Bill. So I guess the townsfolk just kinda… forgave him? And Gideon says he's working to be a normal kid so…" Dipper shrugged again, though he also grimaced at this.

...This wasn’t something that his great nephew should worry about, so Ford simply nodded at this and moved on to what he _could_ do for him, instead.

...Which was to gift him with (and then drill him in) as many defensive spells and counter-spells as he possibly could.

After awhile, they had to stop. (Dipper seemed rather overwhelmed, and Ford was beginning to think that perhaps he’d been going a bit fast with him. ...Ah, well. Better to give him more to work with, to be able to refine later, than not enough of anything at all.) And as Dipper left him to his own devices, on his way back upstairs, Ford slumped in his chair, ran a hand across his face, and sighed. He had a lot to think about.

...Namely, what he was going to do about the _other_ , potentially-subverted member of Bill’s Zodiac Ten, who they would have to rely upon to perform the circle in the most dire of circumstances, whenever they came to be.

\---

Dinner was blessedly uneventful that night and passed without incident. Miz seemed distracted by something and didn’t attempt to speak to him or anyone else really, just eating her meal quietly and causing no further trouble. Bill didn’t seem particularly restive that night, either, for whatever reason. (Frankly, Ford was happy to be able to count his blessings on that front, for once.)

Ford ate quickly, sent Stan a glance to let him know that he wanted to speak with him later, and after Stan sent him a silent response in the affirmative, he got up and left the room, trusting Stan to keep the niblings safe for the rest of dinner. They were pretty much done anyway, and Bill had finished eating long since, sitting back and staring at the kettle for boiling water as he usually did these days.

Ford still lingered in the hallway outside his bedroom, where he could hear the noise from the kitchen, until the niblings had finished eating and put their plates away. He watched them pass by, heading for the staircase upstairs to their room, while he listened to Bill (and perhaps Miz) wash the dishes from that night. Bill wasn’t yet done, when he heard Stan’s footsteps approaching, and Stan finally shuffled his way into the hallway.

"Alright, what’s this about?" Stan asked as he headed for Ford's room, Ford falling into step with him.

Ford waited until they were safely behind closed doors before beginning to unload his latest questions and worries on him -- this time, about another member of their very self-same Zodiac, one who he had previously (and apparently _wrongly_ ) assumed had only been _tricked_ into helping Bill, while actually and truly being on their own side.

\---

Miz was dealing with a very odd problem that night. It was a problem that cropped up whenever she was in a physical form for too long.

She was feeling horny.

Miz sighed as she rolled around onto her stomach on some pillows up in the attic after dinner. Ah… she really wanted to masturbate… but Bill was right there. She felt uncomfortable at the idea of doing _that_ in front of _him_ (at least while he was watching).

Well, perhaps she'd wait until he fell asleep… or maybe for sometime when he'd left the room so his suit’s sensors wouldn’t record such a lewd act for him to see… damn physical urges. Miz supposed she should just make a vessel that wasn't capable of having a libido, but that wasn’t good either… it almost felt like the itching from when there was too much power surging through her (which was different from the itch of a karma imbalance) but… less painful and more annoying. She kinda preferred feeling horny over feeling itchy (since at least _this_ she could satisfy without hurting herself) so she left her vessels capable of having a libido. But part of her still got embarrassed about it. Even when she knew that she shouldn’t be. While she couldn’t say it was as natural as the bodily urges she’d had as a human, it wasn’t really all that different. Just a different body.

Thing was, she could go years without feeling any need for sexual stimulation, so there was a reason why this was coming up now. If she had to be honest with herself, this had been building for a while. Ever since she’d asked Bill to modify and make an ‘older’ and ‘voluptuous’ looking version of her vessel. Miz flushed and buried her face in the pillow. Watching her ‘child’ form grow and swell in _all~_ the right places stirred her up in ways she couldn’t fully articulate. At the time, she’d been in the Mindscape, without a body to express the feelings, and afterward, she’d been too busy with things to really address it.

But things had calmed down, the days passed peacefully and Miz still had some pent up _desires_ that hadn’t been addressed.

...and damn if she didn’t feel a little ashamed to feel like this. She knew she shouldn't, there was nothing wrong with wanting or enjoying sexual relief. Even if one was asexual. But in this house with young children, who were so sweet and innocent, she felt dirty for having such desires, fearful they would find out and be disgusted with her. Stan or Ford? They were adults, she didn’t give a shit if they knew. Bill? Well… maybe she felt a little afraid he’d be grossed out by her physical needs. By her _wanting_ to _have_ physical needs.

So Miz rocked around on the pillow and decided she would wait for everyone in the Shack to go to bed and then lock herself in the bathroom to… take care of her needs.

Wouldn’t take too long, everyone had gone to their rooms after dinner. It was only a matter of time until they all fell asleep. She had her cuffs off, she always took them off when up in Bill’s room, and she considered how she wanted to do this. Well, it was that older form Bill created for her that had set her off this time, and she _had_ wanted to thoroughly explore that lovely body. Those large, round breasts~ so heavy and soft~

Miz buried her flushing face deeper into the pillow. There was something seriously wrong with her. Lusting after her own bodies. And other people’s bodies, though she had no interest in other people for sexual relief. Ugh… it sucked sometimes, being an asexual with a libido… this was probably why she'd thought she was bisexual for the longest time, because of her horniness...

"...Problem?" Bill asked her, from where he was seated. Miz looked up to see that he'd cracked open an eye (and looked to be done with his meditation properly, this time). He seemed a bit… not _calmer_ , exactly, but his energy hum seemed to be... that much more smooth? (The flow of it seemed to be a little more…)

Miz sighed and rocked on her pillow again. "Just… some physical stuff." she was too embarrassed to outright say what it was she wanted here.

"Hungry, thirsty, itchy, tired, need-to-move, need-to-stretch, need-to-spin, touch-craving, sex-cravings, adrenaline-reflex, squirmy feelings, itchy feelings, other-thoughts, other-emotions, or just-other?" Bill asked her simply, resituating himself in place.

Miz couldn’t help but twitch when Bill listed ‘sex-cravings’ and she saw Bill raise an eyebrow at this.

"...Hmm?" Bill said, and then Bill blinked, then sighed. "Miz." He shifted in place a little. "You make your vessel bodies with this problem, why?" he asked her. She hadn't twitched at the 'squirmy feelings', only the 'sex-cravings', so he assumed it had nothing to do with that Stanford this time. ( _Which was good._ \--Progress!)

"...I sometimes enjoy the feeling…" Miz mumbled into her pillow. "And this feeling is better than feeling itchy. Since I can satisfy it. And it doesn’t happen very often. Just when something that..." she wiggled again. "...that arouses me comes up…"

Bill blinked at her. She hadn't twitched at the 'squirmy feelings' mention though, which meant that...

"...This was a 'better' feeling for you before you started blocking out other-beings' emotions and thoughts, though," he reminded her. "Do you _know_ whether _you_ still like it or not, yet?" he asked her next, rather clinically.

"Well," Miz rocked slowly on her pillow as she thought about it. "I enjoy the feeling. But I don’t want to have s-sex with anyone else. Just… myself and my own touching…" she whined a little. "It’s a little embarrassing."

"Masturbation, yes," Bill nodded. He'd seen that a lot, in a lot of species! Including... "That's normal for most humans," he noted, propping his chin up in his palm. It wasn't quite a question.

"I used to do that a lot, back when I was human. I think part of me still registers that." Miz pulled at the hem of her pajama t-shirt. "I still have most of the same fetishes. Though I think I’ve developed new ones over the years, in this life."

Bill let out a sigh. If it went that far back… well, she also had that 'melon allergy' that she hadn’t gotten rid of yet, either.

"Do you want to keep it, or learn to get rid of it?" he asked her rather practically next. It hadn't been on her list, but… That sort of thing could be incredibly annoying and ill-timed, after all, and distracting. It made one much more likely to be attacked, and harder to defend oneself properly, in that timeframe. Made it harder to concentrate when it happened. (Notably, his current stupid human-ish body was not quite _that_ stupid, and did **not** have that problem. ...Not least of which because what little it _might_ seem inclined to do, were it left completely without management and fully to its own devices and balances and original baselines and setpoints, Bill had rebalanced and tweaked and otherwise handled himself quite thoroughly, to make it far more properly useful, in completely his own regard.)

(Bill was fairly sure that if he himself ever had some sort of sex cravings -- not that he did, ever had, or ever expected to; he was a _triangle_ , that _wasn't_ something Shapes felt, or how they did things -- then if he ever tried the physical _human_ way of performing their physical act in his current stupid physically-human-ish body, it would likely leave him as seemingly-vulnerable and open to attack as he was when he was trying to feed. Not that he did any feeding when anyone else was around, being or demon -- blasted Glasses jumping in on him like that - it was a _very_ delicate procedure!)

Miz paused and thought about it. "I… don’t dislike the feeling. As long as I can take the time to satisfy my needs. And I can ignore it to take care of it later once things settle. And…" she wiggled. "I got aroused back when we were in that other dimension, and I’ve been able to ignore it until now, since things are more settled down and I have the free time to allow the feeling to really surface…"

Bill thought about it. So she could 'ignore' and suppress this feeling well-below her surface until she was in a place where she felt ‘safe’ enough to pursue it. And this had been something she’d been holding back since they were in the other dimension? Hm. ...Well, he was pretty sure she didn't have all the correct blocks and shunts in place to prevent resonances from being created in response to external pressures, and then surfacing and becoming a problem whether she wanted them to or not… _BUT_... the fact that she was talking about this _NOW_ and didn't seem _worried_ about this sort of issue, meant that Miz felt safe enough _here_ that she believed it was fine to start feeling it here (...allowing herself to feel it?).

"Well then." Bill told her, "If you want to keep it, and you’re sure you want to keep it, then you should. And if you want to not-feel-it anymore, later, you can do that too?" He'd save the resonances talk for later. Bringing up the PTSD now when she was feeling safe now was not something that he wanted to do. He liked her feeling safe, upstairs, with him, and he wanted to keep that one going. Because he was starting to think that Stanley might actually be right about that whole 'humans needing a safe space they can retreat to' thing. ...at least a little bit. _Maybe._ For some humans.)

"...If I wanted to, I _could_ just… not." Miz thought about it. She didn’t get horny when in a fully energy form, so far as she could tell. She could still look at things that aroused her, but she didn’t feel any of the ‘hot and bothered’ feelings until she went back into a physical body. "So long as I’m not feeding off Lust energy, I’m fine with experiencing sexual arousal and satisfying it."

Bill nodded at her. He'd never really seen the appeal (for a multitude of reasons…), but… if he'd had some kind of… squirmy-feelings back when he'd been a triangle… like she had back when she'd been a human… maybe he would have felt differently about it, too? And… it _was_ proof, in a sense, that she was, in some ways, clearly still who she'd always-been _before_...

"Do it when you want to, don't do it when you don't want to, and if you want to take your surroundings into account when determining the 'want', well," Bill let out a laugh and grinned at her, "I won't argue with that! That is much safer! Less risky to you," the rather-untrusting triangle demon noted, in the lightest way he could touch upon the subject at-present. "As long as it's not a problem, it's not a problem," he shrugged off (as he set the groundwork for a later PTSD discussion at the same time), lowering his hand to his knee. "Yes?"

Mis nodded slowly. "Ah, yes." She paused. "You're not… grossed out by me? She asked quietly. "For being a weird pervert?"

Bill blinked at her, then looked a little taken aback. "No, of course not!" He sighed, then told her, "You were a human. You are still sort-of a human. You do human things still. This is a human thing!" he told her. He shifted over a little, closer to her, and placed a hand on her head. "You like what you like. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks." As long as she was safe and having fun, he'd be happy about it, whatever she did. He just didn't want her getting hurt or _DYING ~~ **AGAIN**~~_.

Miz leaned into the touch, feeling a bit better about not being judged for this one bit.

"Don't know why humans keep getting all up in arms about this stuff all the time, the prudes," Bill told her next, as he patted-petted her on the head. "Like they think they're the only species that does this stuff? And _MOST_ of the time, they're so BORING about it! It's just _the same thing_ to See, over and over again. --You know, I actually helped that one guy write the Kama Sutra, just to spice things up a bit?" Because if he had to See that stuff from time to time, the _least_ they could do was make it a little more _interesting_ to watch! "Though a few of those poses REALLY should've kept the warning labels," he told her, making a face, and removing the hand from her head, to gesture to the side. "Flexibility and joint-limits are a thing! If you **don't** _warm up_ the RIGHT parts of those human bodies _first_ \--"

...Aaaaaaand now Miz was getting super-embarrassed all over again. "--Uh, brother?" she asked him, tugging at his sleeve, and he stopped.

Miz wiggled, pressing her legs together.

Bill blinked at her. "Oh Right. -- _Right_ ," he told her, as he thought through his catalogued tally of 'things that embarrass humans a lot' (along with several of his theories behind their _sources_ ) and 'got it' as he got a one-to-one match to them, with her, on-- "Sexual displays in front of 'family members' are biologically hardwired to suppress and misfire in humans. Avoidance of incest is an evolutionary thing for most species! --I can go downstairs for awhile?" he told her. "And direct my suit-sensors not to sense or record anything this far upwards?"

Miz nodded, a bright blush on her face.

But as he was about to get up, Miz reached out and tugged at his sleeve again. _Yes_ , she felt a little horny (okay, _a lot_ horny, and being reminded of _that_ particular book hadn't exactly helped calm her down any!!), but right now, she was feeling embarrassed enough about it that she wasn't sure she could _do_ it, even if she knew he wasn't watching, she felt so very self-conscious about it now. She needed to calm down a bit (--not _that_ way!!) and think about something else for awhile.

"...Another problem?" Bill asked her again, settling down to sit down again, and looking at her curiously. He didn't know why she had stopped him.

Miz nodded at him almost desperately. It took Miz a moment to think about what she wanted to say, and exactly _why_ she wanted to say it, why she was feeling so embarrassed about everything right now...

And then it hit her: Bill knew all this stuff about her now, but she didn't know anything equally potentially embarrassing about _him_. --That was so _unfair!!_

"--I can wait a bit!" she told her big brother. I want to know something else about _you_ , first!"

"Something about _me?_ " Bill asked her, a little confused. (Had he been wrong about the wanting him to leave and not watch thing? Most humans were like that, and she'd seemed to react that way to what he'd said just now, too? ...Then again, some humans were _very much_ the opposite, almost exhibitionist--)

"How did mating happen in your dimension? As a triangle?" Miz asked, honestly curious, and she tried to suppress her own current still-embarrassed blush. Her own dimension had incubation of piece/eggs, but Bill (from what she's been able to See or learn from listening to him talk) didn't have such things. The way he'd talked about stuff on her blog... Well, he'd said that the sex-related stuff had been really different than what she'd described, and with the way he'd asked about stuff in hers, it had sounded like the shapes and lines in his dimension hadn't had parts or slots or anything like that at all.

"Hmm?" Bill blinked at this rather odd question. "Well," he began, trying to think through things (given his limited knowledge on the subject, though he hadn't really realized it at the time -- and _still_ didn't, somewhat). "If you were my younger triangle… line? Sister/brother?" Bill frowned for a moment, then shrugged it off. "Either way, I would have to teach you the Equations, as a start," he told her.

It was Miz's turn to blink at him. "Equations?" she asked him. "Equations for what?"

"For making more Shapes and more Lines," he told her, settling into place, and making a triangle shape out of his hands at her for a moment, before dropping them, too.

Miz blinked at him. ...Right, he'd been a _triangle_ , and… in the other dimension that they'd just visited with the younkle twins in it, Bill had said he'd been geometry in a really two-dimensional dimension -- breadth, depth, and time, with no height at all? (She was still kind of trying to wrap her head around that one…)

"Um," said Miz. "What would be the stuff past the start?" She was a little curious now, and if that was 'the start', then there should be something else too _other_ than just the start. Right?

"The circle-Rules for the pro-cess of pro-creation," Bill told her. "When you're supposed to use the Equations and not, and who-with. Not that there's anybody around to enforce them anymore," Bill told her with an odd chittery-chuckle, propping his chin up on his fist again.

Miz thought over this. "You know both sets of equations?" she asked him.

"Both sets?" Bill repeated, confused for a moment. "--No, no, no," he told her, "There's only _one_ set of Equations! One!"

...Okay, that made his first comment about it not mattering if she was a shape or a line for what he'd have to tell her make a little more sense, but now she was even more confused about… "If there's only one set of equations," she asked, "Couldn't somebody have a little shape or line all on their own?"

"...Theoretically, _yes_ ," Bill told her. "But they'd have to be _very_ smart, and maybe think up a 'suitable partner' who they'd be solving them with, who was 'there' in their mind and thoughts -- but not really _there_ bodily in-body -- as they solved these equations along with 'them', but not _with them_ ," he told her. "And they'd have to know themselves _very_ well, as well," Bill told her next.

"...Okay?" Miz said. "But why would they need… an imaginary second person?" she asked next.

"Because of the way that the circle-Rules for solving those Equations are laid out," Bill told her. "They include starting-instructions, for how to work out the solution. You don't have to be very smart to do it," he told her, "You just need to be willing to put the time and energy and intense concentration into doing it -- a very-intended and intentional _intent_ ," he told her. "'One shape and one line measure each other'…" Bill began almost sing-song, "'They take their partner's measure', and 'they take what they know', and _then_ 'they work on those Equations together', and _then_..." Bill ended his explanation there with a little shrug. "It's… a little like the making of 'hat-idea's?" Bill told her next. "Custom-made, tailored to fit… Everything has its place, and every _one_ has their own place, too. --There is a place in the family-unit that needs to be filled, and it needs to be filled _relative-to_ that shape and that line that make up that family-unit; _circle_ -Rule." And then Bill shrugged again.

"What if the shape and line already have a child?" Miz asked next. "Do they have to measure the child as part of the family, to figure out the next 'hole' in the family to fill?" That sounded… more than a little off to her. And potentially super-creepy and wrong.

"Measuring is only ever done relative-to the parents," Bill told her. "Children just have to deal with it and make more room for the new child, if it's needed, whatever the outcome finally and with-finality is. The parents decide if there's another section of space that needs filling with yet another child or not, and then they go off and they fill it. And if there's some overlap there…?" Bill shrugged. (Oof. That sounded more than a little bit brutal.)

"But somebody _could_ potentially do it differently, right?" Miz asked next, getting back to her original question, now a bit intrigued. (She was certainly feeling a lot less embarrassed, and more than a little distracted from certain other things too, by the new concepts she was hearing here and now from her brother.) "Like a shape and another shape, or a line and a line?"

"Maybe." But Bill seemed to mostly shrug that off, too. "I haven't solved the Equations myself, so I don't know what the outcome would look like for that, though," Bill told her, "Or if it would even work," he told her next. (He'd need to solve them using the original instructions first, in order to analyze them fully, to know that one. And he'd never had the urge, or felt the need to do that, to run _that_ sort of 'Being-creating' _experiment_ , for a _**MULTITUDE**_ of reasons.) "I never heard of anyone defying the circle-Rules like _that_ ," he let her know. "And I haven't tried to think of any shortcuts for getting the same result, obviously," not having solved that particular set of equations before even once to begin with, not on his own all by his own self _or_ with anyone else.

Bill wasn't capable of forgetting anything, but he honestly hadn't even thought about the _existence_ of those Equations since _forever_ , almost -- not for a very long time. (Honestly, even if he _had_ been inclined to want his own child-spawn for some odd un-weird reason at some point, though -- and he wasn't, hadn't, and never-had to-date -- _why_ in the name of all that was terrible and chaotic would he even _consider_ bringing another being into being-existent to begin with, before he'd ended up ending all of the horrible Rules that made everything _SO VERY WRONG_ , long before he'd finished _FIXING_ EVERYTHING that he needed to fix?!?)

(--That would just be _rude_ , and **wrong** , and a terribly- _ **horrible**_ idea!)

"So…" Miz thought this over. "You solve some equations, and then you have another person? What if you solve them accidentally?" she asked next.

"That's not how it works," Bill told her, blinking. "You have to have the _intent_ to do it."

"Huh?" Miz was thoroughly confused at this point.

Bill looked a little frustrated, and clicked and clacked under his breath a bit to himself, thinking. (Apparently, this was something that seemed obvious to him?) After awhile, he nodded to himself and finally said, "Everything in my old home dimension was math and ideas. Yes? Ideas, and math. Everything, and everyone," Bill told her. "When I made hat-ideas out of ideas and described them with math, I made a thing. I had to try and make it, to make it," he told her. "If I wanted to time-lock the store-space, I had to think it, _and_ want to do it, to concentrate and do it -- intent," he told her next. "If someone can think ideas-of-things into being a thing, if they know how to do it and try hard enough, intending to think _ideas_ into being as-intended, why wouldn't they be able to think _beings_ into being, the same way?" he posed to her, as if it was obvious. Then Bill sighed and said, "The _problem_ is… when somebody gets the math wrong."

Miz blinked. "Gets the math wrong?" she asked. That… didn't sound good, the way Bill had put it...

Bill nodded, looking dour. "You solve for X -- plug in your parameters and go -- and you think the answer is going to be 3? But it's actually -27 instead, _oops!_ \--Better _get rid of_ the mess, start over and try again!" Bill let out a huff. "Solve for a shape, a line -- maybe you aren't sure, you just know you _really_ want one, and you want them to be the best, the greatest something-and-everything- _ever_ , one that will be _just perfect_ \-- those are _your_ parameters, the things that you think are important, defined by you, relative to you and your own thought-processes and those of the other about-to-be-a-parent, and… -- uh oh, you got an **equilateral** Triangle, not the isosceles that you'd really _wanted_ to keep, instead. Oops! Well, _that's_ taken care of easily enough, though. You'll never have to see _them_ again," Bill told her. "Probably. **\--OH!** " Bill clapped his hands together suddenly, startling Miz. "But maybe you _want _an equilateral Triangle, and try to set up the Equations just-so, so you'll be _sure_ to solve your way to a solution for getting yourselves a _really_ smart one of those, _right?_ Thinking that's what you'll get?" Bill told her next. "But, oh _left_ , you got an **irregular** Triangle instead! ...Guess you must have 'screwed up' your math. _**Oops**_..." And Bill trailed off almost darkly.__

____

____

Miz pulled in a soft breath at this.

But then Bill raised his head, smiled at her, and seemed to shake it off.

"I used to solve hat-ideas all wrong on purpose, you know," he said to her next, apropos for nothing. "Just for fun." (Really, he was just trying to shift the subject to the next-closest thing, by backing up to what he'd said before, right at the start -- when he'd brought up the hat-ideas he'd created -- to then turn away from what he'd just said, just a little -- and move forward in a different direction instead, to talk about the creation of things instead of beings, again. Because the creation of things was _much_ more fun to talk about!)

"--I never sold any of them, the ones I did wrong," Bill told her ( _confided_ in her, really), "I never even tried; I knew no-one else would want them. Because of the Rules. --But _I_ liked them, though; I did." He let out a sigh. "It's why I like silly straws," he told her, "They're just _so silly!_ " He grinned. But then the grin dimmed down to an older and smaller, old and small smile. "They remind me of some of my first hat-ideas and ideas-for-hats, all backwards and squiggly and crazy and wrong. Folding in on themselves, and all the rest. But they were still hats, though," he told her. "They were still hats." (And it was fine, right? That he'd liked them? That he liked them still? --He'd _decided_ so, long ago, and _he hadn't changed his mind yet_ …)

(He would never change his mind. He _was_ Mind. And he would never change. NEVER. --He'd decided that long ago, too. ~~_In order to save his brother, he **needed** to not change, to still and always remain himself, so that he'd never forget, never stop, he'd **never stop** \--_~~)

"Nothing is perfect. It becomes perfect when you love it for what it is." Miz quoted with a small smile. "I'm sure your hats were amazing."

"I--" Bill blinked at her, staring. Then he took in a slow breath. "...I could show you," he said next. "...If you want." He bobbed his torso side-to-side in place slightly, as his arms lay a bit slack at his sides, hands in his lap.

"I would love to see your hats!" Miz told him eagerly.

Bill blinked, and blinked again. "Well. ...Well"

And then Bill slowly raised a hand.

And he drew a righteous tangle of lines a bit in front of him. He started with an equilateral triangle in front of him in another trailing color of light...

...and when he was done, that triangle had a larger crazy-looking squiggle of light all _over_ the place around it (...but never actually intersecting the triangle anywhere; the squiggle always and only intersected _itself_ …) and...

...when Bill got done, he dropped his hand. And the entire mess of color and light hung there in the air, in the space in the middle of the attic, and Bill sat there and stared at Miz in place, staying quite still as he did so; his torso was no longer bobbing-swaying from side to side at all now, not rven the least little bit (though it had as he'd worked). His eyes were slightly wide as he looked through the mess at, and to her, his sister, here. Watching. And _waiting._

And...

"It’s beautiful…" Miz breathed, staring at it. She reached out tentatively at it, tracing one of the glowing lines with a finger.

And Bill slowly started to smile.

"It's okay," he told her, "You can touch it." It wasn't a Shape or a Line, after all, and he completely understood the urge. (Besides, even if it had been a Being, she was gentle-enough anyway to do that safely, still. He knew that from her hugs…)

Miz placed her hand on the lines, careful and soft. She trailed her finger along it, following the lines as they curved around and into each other.

"It's smooth," she noted. And just a bit warm. Not slippery-smooth, though. Just smooth. And the edges weren't rounded, exactly, but they also were not sharp...

"That was my first one," Bill told her, as he went from staring at her, to staring at the thing that he'd drawn and made and thought-up himself. "I liked it almost the best."

"Because it was your first." Miz told him, smiling softly. Gosh, she didn’t even remember what her own first art had been...

*Yes," Bill told her. "But also because I went all-out with it," he told her as he continued to stare at it, as he told her... "I didn't know any better back then, that I shouldn't do it this way; that no-one else would want it."

"I would want it." Miz told him seriously. It was so pretty. The lines going in and around and out of each other. It reminded her of the scribbles she and her sister used to draw on the walls when they were children, reminded her of one particular scribble that she used to trace with her eyes every night as she fell asleep.

Bill blinked at her again, then… blushed a bit, and brightened up (and straightened up a bit in place) even more.

"--You can have it, if you want," Bill told her. "You saw it, and you like it; I don't mind if you have it, too. --You watched the order I drew it in, too, right? Where, and how quickly? --The order is important, too," he told her, "I meant it to be. I didn't know the rules for that yet, either," he told her, his light blush deepening slightly without him realizing it, just a little bit more.

Miz giggled. "You’re really proud of it, aren’t you?"

"Yes!" Bill told her. "It was my very first hat, you know!" he told her quite proudly, puffing out his chest a little bit.

Then Bill looked at her, and he looked at the hat-idea (that wasn't-quite one of those _exactly_ , since it was all three-dimensional and upright-currently and made out of magic instead of _'weirdness'_ after all, but... it was still…).

And then Bill reached out, and fiddled with it slightly, and then...

...he seemed to undraw and then redraw it, by sliding his finger back and forth in the air just below it. Did that a few times, and then seemed to adjust the speed of it a bit. 'Re-ran' it for a moment, watching it unfold and then fold itself, back to the start.

And then Bill took the little dot of light that seemed to be hanging in the air there, plucked it away from where it was with thumb and finger, and held it, and held it out, as he reached out and gently took Miz's hand with his other hand so lightly...

...and then placed it all down and onto her palm, ever so gently.

"This one is yours now," he told her, as he pulled his hands away from her again. "You can rerun it, fold and unfold it, and, if you want to…" He looked up at her slightly, almost peeking up at her, "You could take it off the triangle base, expand it and wear it a bit. If you wanted to, sometime."

Miz looked down at the hat and then did just that. She let it unfold before her, and tried plucking the 'squiggle' hat away from the triangle it had drawn itself around (it came away easily). She raised it up to place on her head. It somehow fit in place, like a very odd sort of flower crown, woven out of light. She smiled up at Bill and he made a slight chittering noise in surprise but also glee, as he looked up at where she had placed it.

Then he looked back down at her.

"Snappy dresser," he told her with a nod, eyes bright. "You make that look good."

"Thank you." Miz told him before reaching for a hug.

Bill smiled, and hugged her back.

And then, after he had pulled away from her, he grinned down at her and told her enthusiastically (while still blushing a little bit pink), "Let me show you the _rest_ of my collection!"

Miz nodded eagerly, thrilled to be able to see Bill’s art. She was so proud of him, his work, his art. Her sisters had been artists too, they’d all been. And she had loved everything that they'd made, kept all their old drawings, even when Zeon said to just throw it away because she’d been embarrassed at her old work, but she’d kept them anyway, in a little folder hidden away...

Bill grinned, and he turned to sit a little more next to her, his side next to her side, a little closer, as he raised his hand up again. And there was a bright and happy smile on his face, as he began to draw--

\---

...and when Bill was done showing off all of his saved up, and never-before-seen by anyone else wonders of work…

Bill made like a good big brother, and went downstairs to the living room post-haste to give his little sister some 'alone time' for her masturbating routine. (He also promised to wait for her downstairs, and _not_ go back upstairs again until she came downstairs _first_ , to tell him when she was done.)

(He _also_ temporarily locked everyone else out of the attic's access rights for the duration just in case -- up to and including Stanley -- and made sure the full two-way soundproofing was in place for her, without her even needing to ask. Because he was a good brother!)

Miz laid back down on the pillow and carefully took the hat off so it wouldn't get crushed, back on its 'holding triangle' once again. ...Well, that was enlightening. Pun not intended. She wasn't feeling embarrassed anymore, and it made her feel better to know that her brother wouldn't judge her for having physical needs, for _wanting_ to have physical needs. She looked up at the ceiling and projected a mirror so she could see herself. She stared at herself and then aged up her form into the older looking one, watching herself swell and grow and shit, she really _was_ horny...

Well… she had the room all to herself… and Bill had soundproofed it...

Heavy blush in place, she made her clothes vanish and got right into it.

\---

Miz refused to take the hat off for the next few days. (It fit juuuuust inside her bracelet's anti-magic field, so she could even wear the original one downstairs and around the Shack! But she had the whole thing stored in the holographic matrix of her bodysuit, too. --All of the ones that Bill had shown her, really.) Mabel had complimented it. Heck, she sort of wanted one too ("It’s so pretty!") and Bill had looked so proud and so bashful at the same time.

...But Bill hadn't said anything to his Shooting Star about how _he_ had been the one to make it. He didn't tell her that he'd made it; he didn't offer to make one for her, too...

Bill had smiled, but he'd stayed silent, and said not one single word to Mabel about it -- or to any of the others, whether any of them said anything encouraging and nice about it or not.

Bill didn't say anything at all about it.

Bill didn't say anything about it at all.

And Miz noticed this, too.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N from Jo: By the by, in case anybody was wondering? The being who Bill showed that very first hat of his to? First? Before he showed it to anyone else? ...and who'd told him that he'd done it all _wrong?_ And to ' _never_ ' try and show anything like that to anyone ' _ever again!_ '...? --Had been Bill's mother. He'd started to show/explain it to her, using himself as his very own guide-base, and… he got stopped before he even got very far in, not more than past the first few idea-lines of it. (And boy did he get told off for that pretty hard.)
> 
> And then, Bill ran off and showed it off to his big brother Liam next, of course! Because Bill didn't know what he'd done wrong ~~and Liam was always super-supportive, and was always always able to explain _everything_ to him that just didn't make sense at all, not one bit~~. And Bill had been feeling confused and a little bit hurt, too, at this first and rather not-so-great reception to what he'd _thought_ was a really really great thing! And of course Liam listened to the whole thing for him, just like a big brother should!
> 
> And then proceeded to tell Bill every last thing that he'd done wrong in making that hat.
> 
> And why it wasn't okay and just wouldn't work.
> 
> And why nobody would want it.
> 
> And…
> 
> It was Bill's first introduction to the concept of 'irregular' being _wrong_...
> 
> ~~...and it came from his very own looked-up-to and loving big brother.~~
> 
> ~~It was also, notably, the first time that Liam had explained something to Bill, that had… well, it had left Bill _sort-of_ agreeing to 'just go along with it, Billy, okay?' because Liam had told him so (that was usual), but it had _also_ left Bill feeling that something wasn't quite right about all of it. That something felt… _off_...~~
> 
> ~~_(...that something was wrong, really really wrong, and Bill didn't understand it, couldn't understand it…)_ ~~
> 
> ~~...and it left Bill with the realization that his brother must be _so_ much smarter than him -- and a start of a sense of the gap between them -- because Liam had explained something to him, but for the very first time, Bill realized that he _still didn't understand_ what he'd done wrong…~~
> 
> ~~...why was it so wrong to make something that, when he thought of it, he thought of his brother? And why would it be so wrong to want to make something that his big brother Liam could wear himself next, as his next great hat masterpiece that he had been going to make after this one (not just something that had reminded him of the _idea_ of Liam this time), too…?~~


	29. Chapter 96: Isn’t Bill dead?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> ANIME MARATHON!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 111 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/48846446). It was first posted on Sep 9, 2019.

\----

Miz laid on the roof of the Mystery Shack beside her brother. The two had come up to sunbathe and while Miz hadn't liked being in the sun as a human (heck, she'd barely left her house back then), she found herself rumbling in content now, as her tail curled lazily around in the warm weather. It was bright that day, but it wasn't quite hot -- not for her. Miz was using an ‘air conditioning’ type of spell, carved into a small stone she kept in her pocket. It made it so that she didn’t overheat and would just feel a very pleasant warmth, as she relaxed on the roof with her big brother, lying there next to her.

It was a quiet day and anyone looking from outside probably wouldn't think anything of note was happening at the moment. They would be wrong.

Despite her peaceful expression, Miz was not as relaxed as she appeared. Through much trial and error, she had realized that while the unicorn barrier blocked out Weirdness and the bracelets blocked Magic, neither did anything to block out her Psychic powers. That was the reason why Miz's Empathy and Telepathy had still worked, even inside and under the mystic barrier spell.

So now that Miz had realized that her psychic powers apparently didn’t count as Weirdness or as Magic, she wanted to explore just what she could do with her psychic powers alone. They were similar to her Eye, but different enough that she wanted to know how much she could See using them _without_ her Eye. --Specifically, she was planning to try and find Blue’s Ax. She had thought that ALL the AXOLOTL were related, connected, up until recently. But the way her brother described his Ax just seemed so… different. She had met with an Ax the last time she was here, when she was drunk and Blue had invoked his name. So, she had thought the one she'd met was HIS AXOLOTL. But now she wasn’t so sure.

Miz felt around the weave of this reality. It would be easier if she was outside of this unicorn barrier, but pushing her powers to do stuff while under limitations was a good way to really explore and experiment.

She stretched her senses out and Felt for the edges of the world. She knew how to get into the Space between Spaces easily. But was it the same in this world? She couldn’t feel it the same way, it wasn’t in the same place… and yet… it _was_ there. It was everywhere around them, literally between all the spaces, woven into the reality around them.

Miz yawned and shuffled over to press herself up against Bill’s side. ...She might have to get into the Mindscape for this. She could Feel where the AXOLOTL could be using just her psychic powers, but if she wanted to actually See the AXOLOTL she would need to use all her powers to do so.

Bill glanced over lazily. "What are you looking for?" he asked her. (He'd caught on that she'd been trying to look at _some_ thing, some way.)

Miz stretched lazily. "I’m testing out something. The things you’ve said about your Ax sound really different from mine, I want to know what’s causing that difference." She knew the laws of reality were different in different dimensions, but how different were things _here_ that the native version of Ax would be so… weird? And not the good kind of weird?

Bill raised an eyebrow. "The stupid lizard is stupid. It doesn’t talk to anyone hardly ever. Even demons who break the Rules." He didn’t want to get into what _he’d_ had to do to get it to pay attention to him and then to respond beyond that, though; he didn’t want to give Miz any _very bad_ ideas that might get Stanley angry with him (and that Stanford almost definitely) ~~and he himself a bit worried at what she might _do_ with that information upon learning it, accidentally or otherwise~~. (And it had BARELY worked anyway.)

Miz sighed. "Mine is nice. I want to know why. From what you say, Ax isn't supposed to be nice. So what is it that makes mine so different? Maybe if I can meet yours, I'll be able to know."

Bill closed his eyes and shrugged. He had thought about that as well. His current theory was that her ‘dad’ thought that pretending to be her dad would make her easier to manipulate for whatever plans that that stupid lizard had in mind for her… which was a terrifyingly possible theory.

"Alright. Be careful," Bill finally said.

Miz nodded before she laid down and closed her eyes. Bill watched as all tension left the vessel and Miz floated up and--

\--away like a shot, _immediately_ punted out of the barrier, and not just her constructed-body! ...Right. She wasn’t within that bubble of anti-magic the bracelets made around her vessel for her anymore.

Miz shook herself off and waved at Bill, who was making himself busy with lifting her body over a shoulder and making his way towards the edge of the roof, before she focused her thoughts on finding the Space between Spaces and allowed her energy form to spread out, sinking between the gaps of reality.

She Looked UP.

\-----

The concept of numbers. Enabled and disabled. The strings which bind together walls upon walls of concepts forming ideas. True and false (...and a spin of probabilistic uncertainty that leaves enough space for chaotic chance to be inserted into an otherwise-unforgiving system, for some small mean concept incorrectly termed by lesser beings as ‘free will’ to exist…). A webmatrix spread across all of reality, built upon the core system which governed all reality (--all realit _ies_ that ever was or ever were or ever are or ever would be--). Spiralling further and further into everything. Rules. Fundamental laws of the universe. (These were written, these could be _RE_ written.) Order. Stability. (An injection of pure chaos, from the outside; from the inside--) A system of balances. Inputs and outputs. (The processes were--) A core system in charge of maintaining those laws. ( _'Oh AXOLOTL, hear my prayer--’_ ) Those rules.

Miz opened her Eye and Saw. ...And then she did more than just See.

She stared. Unable to comprehend for a while. She understood all the parts. (She did, she did! They were understandable! They were!) The lines and numbers. The codes and string. ( _So familiar_ ; when _she_ did things _she_ liked to--) The embedded sections that would recall previous sections. Individually, she understood what it all meant. (All of it! Everything!) But here, spread out before her, was infinity. (It was so beautiful, SO _BEAUTIFUL_ , and-AND- **AND--** )

Miz felt her mind crack again as she tried to comprehend the vastness of it all. Here was _everything_. The truth of the world and all within it. _**SHE WENT MAD**_ …

... for a few seconds at least. Then, her automatic functions took over and this Truth, like all others she had Seen, was Sorted, Analyzed and Saved away in another section of her core, to be pursued later for a deeper understanding.

And in the midst of all of this that she was trying to not just See, but also Comprehend, Miz Saw… the AXOLOTL.

Miz stared at the AXOLOTL. It stared back.

"Um… hi!" Miz greeted cheerfully. The AXOLOTL said nothing. It didn't even blink. (It had no eyelids to blink. It SAW ALL, always and forever, it couldn't _not_.) It gave no indication that it had heard her. (It had.) No acknowledgment of her presence. (It would not. Its interactions were bound and regulated by--) Not even the barest flicker of recognition or care.

('Care’ was not the most accurate word-concept-allowance-descriptor for what it did and did not do.)

It was cold. (And burned with a power that rivalled every star in every dimension it had ever spun up and ignited with--) Unfeeling. (It had no body to feel--) Distant. (And right next to and running alongside everything at once, as--) It continued to run its functions. (Of course it would. It had its own mandates. The mandates of others were--) Never stopping, never stalling to continue to perform its duty. (And it _WOULD_ perform it WELL. Because--)

And Miz realized in the space of a broken moment: this was NOT the AXOLOTL that she knew.

And then Miz was smacked on top of her-- _head?_

She tumbled, fell and fell and fell, and then...

...she looked up into BlueBill's face.

He did _not_ look happy with her.

" _DON'T DO THAT._ " Bill told her, as she blinked up at him, trying to regain her bearings. "YOU'LL GO INSANE AND _UNSTABLE_ AND EVERYTHING WILL BURN."

Miz blinked slowly. "Oh. Sorry. I… wasn't expecting what I found." Miz said sheepishly. She ignored the pounding headache. Well, less of a headache and more of a mindache but...

"I _told_ you to be _CAREFUL_!" Bill complained at her, slowly lowering himself down to the ground from the hover he’d been doing. " _I_ am not ready to do that. YET. And _I_ did that once before, and have SLOWLY been working my way back up all of the pathways and levels, since," he told her as he settled into a kneeling posture and the crudely and quickly-modified ‘floating’ spell, which he’d used to get up that ‘high’ to metaphysically ‘smack’ her on the head, was cancelled out by him with a gesture. " _You_ shouldn't do that, that way. I barely _caught_ you." He was frowning at her. "And I _KNOW_ you fractured." He was giving her an angry (...but also worried?...) look.

"I'm sorry… didn't think it would be… so much." Miz winced. "But I’m… otherwise undamaged. I managed to shunt it off before I got overwhelmed."

"'Overwhelmed'," Bill echoed at almost a mutter. He (gently) poked her in the forehead. " _WHAT_ did I _TELL_ you about _MENTAL STRENGTH?!_ " Because he's Seen her Mind being 'overwhelmed' and… did she _still_ think that her Mind was unable to be influenced by other beings' Minds?

"Well, that Ax didn’t..."

"--But it _COULD HAVE_ ," Bill pointed out, with another soft forehead-poke. He hadn't thought that it would do that (that would have been a form of communication), or he would have told her not to try. To Bill, though, the more important point of what he was trying to tell her was that her assumption that she could _not_ be directly influenced by any other Mind in all of existence was _WRONG!_ (Which meant that she was leaving herself WIDE OPEN to all sorts of possible avenues of potentially-SUCCESSFUL attack, because she wasn't even _considering_ \--)

Miz frowned at this, mistaking his insistence for a different sort of concern. But instead of trying to protest that she was alright (what she thought he was worried about), she changed the subject to something that _she_ thought was more important, instead. "That thing was NOT my dad," she declared. Because that unfeeling _thing_ was not the AXOLOTL she knew. It was nothing like the other AXOLOTL she'd met either. The one who had shown up the last time she was here when Bill had invoked it. (So, if it wasn't Blue's Ax, which AXOLOTL was it?!)

" _Back in your vessel, first,_ " Bill told her, pointing down at it, where it was laying on the ground outside the barrier, where he’d moved it to. "Then we’ll talk." He acknowledged that this was a worthy and high-priority topic of discussion, yes -- but if she’d done what he’d thought she’d done, the way he’d thought she’d done it, then she needed grounding. _RIGHT NOW._

Miz floated down and settled, gasping air into the lungs of her vessel as she connected herself back into a more concrete physicality than her existence in the general Mindscape. "That thing… it… it's not even…" --alive. Not exactly. The word 'alive’ didn't even apply to something like that. It was…

"Oh dear lord, you're in the Matrix…" Miz mumbled out. That Axolotl was… some kind of PROGRAM. --Oh, it figured that the alternative dimension she was looking at (with that Will who was not Bill but still denied being Will and who was playing a game, some VRMMORPG that took place in this reality, AS this reality--) turned out to be _directly_ connected to this one.

(And more than that, the Will she'd Seen there was a demon from the Outside--)

Bill tilted his head at her. "There are many matrices, yes? Which type are you talking about?" He settled from a kneeling posture to a cross-legged one. "There are no pillars," he told her next, guessing at what she might have meant because of what she had been trying to look at, and thus had likely Seen at the same time with the _way_ she had been trying to Look and See everything. "It is more of a… net?" He spread his hands out in front of him, trying to give a bit more description to the words, despite the limited three-dimensional-plus-time nature of the motion. (Stupid human language didn't have the best words to describe the concept.)

"I was actually making a movie reference." Miz admitted. ...One that, in retrospect, didn't actually exist here in this dimension, now that she caught her breath and took a moment to look back through her own previous Flickers in this dimension. Oops?

(Note to self, make everyone watch the Matrix… unless it counted as a mental attack? But it would be very helpful towards getting the Pines to understand…)

Bill blinked and thought about that for a moment. then he smiled and reached forward to pat her on the head.

"’Welcome to The Game’," Bill said, with a sideways smirk going. Miz let out a semi-hysterical giggle at the thought. Bill's smile grew wider. "We hope you enjoy your stay!" he chirped out at her almost sarcastically as he spread out his hands in something like a gesture of welcome, except his eyes were gleaming with amusement as he did it.

"Huh… well I can now honestly say that my Doors apparently reach even farther than I thought." Miz turned to Bill. "Your AXOLOTL is, in NO way, connected to mine. At all. My dimensional set runs nothing like it is here." Hers didn’t have an ‘outside’ in the sense of another reality connecting in from ‘reality’ and even IF reality was an illusion, her world was ‘real’. ...Well, as ‘real’ as it could be considering part of her still thought it was based on a children’s cartoon show...

Bill nodded at her, frowning. "There is a net to catch everything, not pillars, the Rules _can_ be rewritten, and there is an outside that connects in," he told her, relaxing as he began reiterating these simple truths and differences that he'd been cataloguing here for some time now. (It was nice to have someone to talk to about this.) "It's very different wherever the outside is," he told her, propping his arms up on his knees and his chin up on his fists. "The outside can't just turn us off like a computer game, though," Bill said to reassure her, having a feeling that that may be part of what had worried her? (The idea of having NO CONTROL over the continuation of his own existence AT ALL sure would have worried HIM! HA!) He raised an arm to look at his hand and wiggled his fingers as he turned it, while showing it off to her, keeping his chin propped up on his other fist. "Biological simulacrum, quantum string substructure, etheric stream overlay, knotted parallel spin mechanics supporting the underpinnings…" Bill trailed off with a shrug.

Miz nodded. She bet it was more complex than she already thought it was. This dimension… it was all… some kind of simulation? --No, that wasn't quite the right word here. Not just a game, something more, bigger, grander.

Then a thought hit her as Bill lowered his arm, as he looked over at her again. Bill wasn't from the Outside ~~(Not a Player so that must mean he was an--)~~ , unlike that Will she had seen who WAS from the outside.

She brushed that thought aside for a second to focus on the other issues. No need to follow that thought to its logical conclusion right now. (And it wasn't like it would matter either way, she didn't think of any of these people as JUST NPCs.)

"I'm not certain what your stupid lizard is, but from what you've told me, it handles things VERY differently from… ‘ _mine_ ’," Bill said, making a face of near-disgust as he said it. Then Bill shook himself and moved on. "I don't know _how_ different it actually is, or if it is just _masking_ you from Seeing it _PROPERLY_ in your dimensional set, instead," Bill added, "But…" He grimaced, because, "...that is unlikely, though, with how well you can See things." He found the latter idea suspect because of that little fact, when coupled with what Miz knew about the underpinnings of her own.

Really, Bill had been starting to suspect that something was off for awhile, with the way Miz had talked about her setup back in her home ‘set, but… the thought that the Axolotl wasn't or might be completely different where she was, that it might not be a simple connected instance of the same stupid lizard he knew, was… disquieting and disturbing to Bill. (He knew how the Rules worked HERE, but _there_ …? How was he supposed to HELP her _effectively_ if he didn't **KNOW?** Because without _knowing_ even something so _simple_ as **that** \--)

Miz sighed. "My dimension doesn't run on a matrix. It has rules and stuff too, but nothing like it is here. My Ax is a PERSON. A living, feeling, sentience with his own wants and desires. He creates new dimensions by forming a new Space but there would be no progressive Time within it without Time Baby's help, and there would be no life in it without the Energy to start things off. So in my world, the multiverse was formed from the three of us working together." Accidentally in her case. What with her explosion creating not just the 3rd dimension but tearing holes through all the other Spaces, to form the greater multiverse...

"The AXOLOTL here is stupid, but it’s SUPPOSED to be intelligent," Bill told her. "It's not a demon-from-the-outside. So it is ALSO a 'person’. But it is very-different living at that level so high up and out, yes," he told her, agreeably. "That's what _happens_ to most beings that manage to ascend -- they CHANGE," Bill groused. (It was why he was so very careful to never-change -- he REFUSED to lose track of what -- of _who_ \-- was important to him. Otherwise, what was the point of doing that, and taking over, if in the process he lost track of himself, what-and-who was important, and what he wanted to change?!) Then Bill narrowed his eyes slightly at her. "... _YOU_ are a part of the decisions-made for every new dimension your stupid lizard spins up?"

"I'm just there to lend the energy to kick start it. Sometimes dad lets me decide what I want in it. But he doesn't let me decide very often. Apparently, making a world where every carbon atom is replaced with an entire fish was too headache-inducing for Ax to work with. Though now that you’ve told me about a way to make it work, perhaps I could bring that up to him next time." Not to mention all the other ‘fun’ ideas she’d had which Ax had said were all too annoying to work with. Although she HAD managed to convince him to make more dimensions with an Earth (and, eventually, humanity), just so she could have more places to play around in. Speaking of which, she hadn't visited the Marvel-verse in a while...

[[A/N: This is actually something that popped up in a Broken Timelines chapter I wrote but never finished or published, but it still exists within my Lore and I’m sorry I never really spoke about this before >.> Eh… it was essentially, MizBill got permission from Ax to decide a new dimension and they chose to recreate the Marvel Cinematic universe because they're a goddamn nerd.]]

Upon hearing this new information from Miz, Bill's smile got just a touch wider (and rather more... _evil_ , in some respects).

"You have _leverage_ ," Bill told her, as he began to understand the situation she was in a bit better. "The universe won’t _start_ without the energy. You can hold things up _forever_ if you don't like the way it's set up." Bill's smile got a touch wider. Because as long as Miz wasn't there… "Maybe that stupid lizard will appreciate you more, once you're back… if it's got a backlog to handle _now_ that it _**NEEDS**_ you for," Bill grinned.

Miz blinked. "I never thought of that. I was always worried that I was holding them up. Time Baby gets impatient."

"Time Baby is dumb, and the stupid lizard doesn’t need Time Baby," Bill pointed out. "It can take over that stupid Baby's pillar, you said! But if it needs Energy… where is it going to get it without _you?_ " Bill queried her. "You seem to self-generate very large amounts from very small bits of starting material, for redistribution."

"Well, Ax can generate his own through worship but he's not as efficient as I am. He gets tired. Most of his power goes to running the Souls system."

"Yes," Bill nodded. Efficiency was _VERY_ important. "Which means that at some point, if it tried to handle it all itself, that stupid lizard would RUN OUT of power to use as energy!" Bill's look became truly maniacally-’evil’. "Once you're ready, you could just wait elsewhere -- like _here_ \-- and jump back in after the stupid thing has almost guttered itself out… and overpower it easily," Bill told her, with a vvery wide grin.

Miz looked a little worried. "I don't want to hurt dad." She loved him. "Or betray him." She would feel _really_ bad about that. It would be so ungrateful of her to do that after everything Ax had done for her...

Bill shrugged at this, dropping his arm to leave both hands in his lap, sitting upright instead. "Then just overpower it and put it in a position where it can't threaten you again," he told her easily. "Disconnect it from everything. The process doesn't HAVE to hurt," he told her. It would likely take more energy to hurt it at the same time, anyway. It would be more efficient to hurt it later, if she was keeping it alive and changed her mind; it would be rather more _dangerous_ to attempt hurting it at the same time as she was trying to take over everything.

Miz realized what Bill was referring to, but... Well, Miz had meant the _emotional_ pain of a betrayal instead, but she wasn't sure how to explain that to him. But she did try, by saying: "I meant hurting his feelings. If I just overthrew him and stuff."

Bill blinked at her. "Does it like spinning up universes where beings with free will have to suffer and die, and then watching that happen?" he asked of her.

"...no." Miz admitted.

"Then why would it be _hurt_ ," Bill asked her, "If you're making things better, so that it _DOESN’T HAVE TO DO THAT ANYMORE IF IT DOESN'T WANT TO?_ " He was staring at her intently as he asked her this.

Miz wasn't sure how to explain it any other way to her brother. She still continued to try, though. "But the worlds don't quite work that way where I am. We decide the physical makeup of the worlds, what people decide to do once they exist there is up to them. So it’s not like Ax makes them have to be sad..."

"Yes, it does." Bill snorted. " _It_ decides how the worlds work," Bill told her. "And sometimes, so do you. --I _told_ you, you could set things up so that people don't need to eat, sleep, breathe, or die-and-stay-dead," he reminded her. "If there are no resource or time-constraints," Bill said to her, spreading his arms out from his sides, "What do people do?"

Miz thought about it. "True. But I’d probably have to restrict birth rates or make it so that no new people can be born if I do that. There are only so many Souls to go around." She had no idea how to create Souls. It was Ax's thing, not hers. She could make soulless creatures with a fully formed mind and personality but that still wouldn't give them Souls.

Bill just shrugged at this. "Make it more difficult to have new beings be born -- actual conscious and meaningful effort -- and that will drop the rate to start with." Because for all its many, many, _many_ , many, many, MANY, many, many, _**MANY**_ flaws… his home dimension had at least gotten _that_ one right. Almost. ~~The _parents_ , on the other hand--~~ "If overpopulation looks like an issue because of space constraints, just create another empty dimension or twelve," Bill told her with a shrug. None of this seemed particularly hard, difficult, or otherwise show-stopping to him. "So what if you have a limited number of Souls?" he asked. "You can't make more?"

"Ax makes them. I've tried but I can't seem to do it." Her Nightmares were proof of that.

"Then it's even easier," Bill told her. "Either the stupid lizard plays nice when or if you want more Souls because it NEEDS you for more dimensional spin-ups, it teaches you how to do the soul-making itself, _or_ … you have a closed system with a stable population," he told her, "Which is easier to manage. --Or you go steal some base Souls from other places through your Doors," Bill waved off. None of these felt like an unsolvable problem to him.

"That feels kinda… mean." Miz pouted. Even disregarding how much of an ass she'd feel like for betraying her dad to capture, contain and restrain him to usurp his authority, stealing Souls was one of those things she didn't want to do.

"’Mean’?" Bill echoed. Miz nodded at him. "The stealing of Souls from other ‘sets?" Another nod from Miz. ...And she didn’t like being mean. "Hm." He thought about that. (Admittedly, he generally didn't do that outright himself, the whole Soul-stealing thing.) "--Just claim whatever you want first, and kill any who oppose you?" Bill told her, then stopped for a moment and blinked as he remembered: she was supposed to be in-or-past Endgame in this scenario! "--Defeat-without-murdering those who oppose you in places you haven’t fixed yet," he self-corrected himself. "Then it _belongs_ to you, because ownership claim rights have now been transferred, and nobody will say ‘no, you can't!’ anymore!" He grinned at her.

Miz wasn't sure how to feel at that idea. It _might_ work, but if she did that, she would have to fight a lot of people to take over those places. A lot of people would hate her. More than they already did at least. Plus, ownership rights didn’t work in her world the same way it did here. Especially since there were no ‘Players’ in her dimensional set. No ‘Demons from the Outside’ or anything like it, which had likely led to the structures that were here being so different -- or vice-versa.

"I will think about it," she said to Bill at last.

Bill blinked at her again. She didn't like his solution? Was it because... "You don't like conquering and owning dimensions, so you can take what you want from them when you want it?" he asked of her, curious. Because in _his_ experience, most demons did.

Miz sighed. "I don't mind stealing from bad people, but there are plenty of good people that I don't want to upset." And the Federation owned most of the multiverse, and taking down a far reaching government would cause utter chaos and instability… which, well, chaos might be her forte but she didn’t want to make the innocent bystanders suffer from the collapse of their governmental foundation. She’d maaaaybe be able to do it if she introduced a new form of governing to everyone across the multiverse and got them to self-govern or something, but people wouldn’t listen to her. It’s why she was more for the idea of putting good, fair people in power instead, let them work to change the government into something better. A single person wouldn’t be able to do it, no matter how powerful, to get a government to change required the government itself and the people working together to enact the changes needed. But it was something that required time and work and… well… Miz sighed, she’d had this conversation with Pynelope before, it just… there wasn’t an easy solution one way or another between quick activism versus the slow and steady approach.

Bill still wasn’t sure about… "Define 'bad people’ and 'good people’," he said almost flippantly. Human morality wasn't something he usually bothered with -- that Stanford's so-called 'morality’ was so two-dimensionally _flat_. Not to mention that stupid Karma system…

This was a hard one. Miz personally wasn't sure what made someone good or bad. It was more of her personal gut feelings...

"--You could borrow-or-buy-or-barter those Souls you want, instead," Bill said next. "...Or ask," he added, straightening in place as a new thought occurred to him. "There could be a dimensional set with _too many_ Souls?"

...Luckily, Bill didn't seem to be too invested in an answer from her on it, right then. So she addressed the other thing instead. "Well, there ARE random chairs around the multiverse that accidentally got Souls because Ax wasn't paying attention…" It was funny but also kinda sad. Poor things weren't in a dimension where living chairs were a thing (probably the reason Ax messed up to begin with, what with some dimensions having living chairs and others not) so they couldn't move or scream and simply existed in a perpetual state of horror at their own existence.

But she didn't want to think about taking over her multiverse. She wanted to change the subject. "Well, either way, now that I know that there are AXOLOTL that are entirely unconnected to each other, I'm curious about what sorts of ways other places behind my Doors could be run." A whole different system. A whole different series of things to learn. "It would be cool to check them out.

She turned towards her brother. "Do you think you'd be able to come with me?"

Bill's eyes widened. "I…"

And Bill paused for a moment, feeling almost… _conflicted_. Because he had his anchor, and he had Stanley, and he wasn't… didn't want to lose his Stanley.

And without really thinking of it, he raised a hand to the back and base of his neck…

Miz frowned. "Right. Your anchor. We'll need to find a way around that? You don't want to break it, right?" Bill slowly nodded his head. Miz thought about it. "We’ll need to experiment."

Bill let out a short laugh at that, then grinned. "Yes!" he said, dropping his hand just as unthinkingly. Then he got a bit of a cagey (not really all that innocent look). "I _might_ have a few ideas to start with…"

\---

"....This is a terrible idea." Stan deadpanned.

"We’ll take every precaution!" Miz insisted. "I don’t want to hurt brother, he doesn’t want to lose the anchor, and, well…" She shrugged. "Brother’s gonna have to figure this out eventually anyway."

"This is still a terrible idea." Stan rubbed a hand across his face. These two were just...

"I'm not saying I want much," Bill said almost innocently (about as 'innocently' as the demon ever got, yeah, sure).

"You're askin' for me to give you full rein over your powers again," Stan deadpanned. "I'm pretty sure you're _saying_ you want _everything_ ," because that **was** what the kid was really asking for, here.

"--Only for a little while!" Miz said, while trying to give him puppy eyes. (The look, not handing him actual eyes.)

Stan gave her a long look. ...And even the kid looked down at her, and put a hand on her head and mussed up her hair just a little bit.

"Stan does _reasons_ and _wants_ , not asks," the kid told her, dropping his hand, then looked back up at Stan.

"Make your case," Stan said grumpily, crossing his arms. (Because he already knew that he wasn't gonna like this…)

"Miz wanted to check out more other dimensions and see what they’re like, what their stupid lizard’s are like. And so do I," the kid told him.

"Why," said Stan.

"Miz just found out that the lizard HERE isn’t actually connected at ALL, that she can see, to her OWN lizard. And that…" Here, Bill actually looked uncomfortable. "...That’s DANGEROUS."

Stan frowned at this. "What do ya mean, kid?"

The kid did that uncomfortable-looking, squirming under his own skin thing. And then…

"It _means_ ," the kid told him, "That from what she’s Seen here, and Seen in her own dimensional set, that it’s not only the STRUCTURE of our ‘sets that are very different from each other." The kid looked up at him, looking grim. "If _these_ things are different, and the lizards _AREN’T_ connected, _aren’t_ all the same one-is-many-is-one, and the differences where Miz is from really ARE what she is telling me," and from the look the kid had on his face, he believed her, "...Then the _RULES_ governing everything are different there, too."

Stan frowned at him.

"Still not seein’ why that means you think you’ve gotta go running off other places here, kid," Stan told him.

"--BECAUSE THE RULES ARE DIFFERENT!" the kid told him. "Because if the Rules are different, and the _lizard_ isn’t one-and-many, but _two_ OR MORE--" the kid grimaced, and then looked Stan straight in the eye. "I am SUPPOSED to be helping keep Pine Tree and Shooting Star safe, as part of our **agreement**. -- _I can’t do that if I don’t KNOW **how** different the rest of those lizards are._" Then the kid grimaced as he said, "I’d be _breaking_ the agreement if I _didn’t_ go out there, and take a Look around. --I _NEED_ to know how different things might be, out there," the kid told him, "If I’m going to set up any PROPER defenses against ANYONE and any THING that’s out there _at all!_ "

"Well, I’m sure the other Axs are too busy with their own sets to _really_ bother with others, but, it would still help to learn about them," Miz piped up.

The kid shot her a look. "-- _You don’t **know** that_," the kid said, before looking back to Stan. "That’s the **POINT**. _AND_ the problem," he told Stan. " _Her_ stupid lizard doesn’t do much, either; same as this one," the kid said. But he also gave Stan a long look as he said it.

\--And Stan suddenly got it. The demon-kid was worried about an _active_ lizard-god that was enough like theirs that it was powerful enough the kid wasn’t ready to take it on yet, but that might be roaming around doing who _knew_ what around the local neighborhood.

Stan hadn’t paid much attention in English class in school, but he did remember some of that stuff about the Greeks and Romans and junk. Petty gods, doing really petty things. ...The kid didn’t put on airs, calling himself some kinda _god_ \-- ‘just’ a demon -- but the kid called this ‘lizard’ of his one. And Stan had seen some of what the kid could do. Most people would call a lot of what the kid could do unanchored-down ‘godlike’, but the kid didn’t. Which meant that--

"Alright, so you’re worried," Stan told him. "I get that. But--" Stan held up a hand. "We’re gonna have to talk this out some more. --First thing is, you don’t want to be picking fights, accidentally or otherwise, or having one of these ‘not so good’ lizards maybe noticing you poking your heads around out there, and getting their attention _doing_ this." Stan frowned at them both. "I want you _both_ to be absolutely sure what you’re gonna do -- and _not_ do," Stan added, with a bit of a glare at the demon who’d caused his family a _lot_ of grief in the past, "-- before you two even _think_ of going out there ‘exploring’. _And_ I need to understand what all it is you’re gonna do, and all the rest of it, first. ...Can’t help you all with it, if I don’t," Stan groused, because boy was he gonna workshop the _hell_ outta this all with the kid first. Like hell he was gonna have these two running around stirring up trouble out there for no reason, let alone letting them bring it all back home to roost _here_ again.

Yeah, he’d known something like this was gonna happen, sooner or later. And he knew that if he said ‘no’ to either of them, now, they’d just go off and do it without talking to him about any of it, instead. --That the kid had a reason at all for doing it that he thought was in _their_ best interests, for keeping _them_ safe? Wasn’t something Stan was about to stop. _That_ was what he wanted the kid to be doing for them all in the first place.

...He’d just need to be clear about what parts of what they thought they wanted to do were incredibly stupid, and redirect the kid to other less-world-conquer-y things like he always did. The fact that they’d come to him first, _at all_ , was a pretty big first step, here. (Because yeah, he’d sort of laid the groundwork for this with the ‘anti-Bill’ and ‘anti-Ford’ trip-visit thing -- and hell, even with some of what had happened with the niblings and that time tape stuff, too -- but this was a whole different level of crazy.)

"So," Stan said, "Let’s talk about goals. --What do you need to get out of this overall, and what do you think you absolutely need to do, and not do, on this first trip out?"

\---

It took a few hours of discussion to get everything settled. Stan didn’t tell the kids or Ford about it. Not yet, anyway. Ford would just raise a huge stink about it and stress out unnecessarily. Stan would tell him afterward, once the demons got back, make it one of them ‘fate accomply’ things, or whatever. Besides, it really wasn’t any different from when the kid had brought them all to that other dimension that the twins bounced into after the time tape incident.

And it really wasn’t like Stan cared all that much about ‘other dimensions’ or ‘sets’ or whatever. Thing was, if the kid needed to get something out of his system someplace _else_ , instead of doing it here? Stan could live with that. (Maybe Ford couldn’t, but he sure could. Because if that was really what it took to keep the kids safe…)

~~(Didn’t mean he liked it, but…)~~

\--Look, it wasn’t like he _wasn’t_ trying to give the kid other stuff to do that he’d like better than destroying things, all right? He was. And it was even starting to work out already, so far. Kid was coming to him for his opinion on more stuff, and all the rest of it. And this thing that the kid had said about these lizards maybe being a problem, kid definitely wasn’t lying about it. Kid thought it was serious; this was a _recon_ mission. Looking around, _maybe_ talking to people, and getting info. Stan couldn’t go out there with him, tagging along to watch his back ~~(and watch _him_ )~~, since how the whole ‘set travel’ thing worked? That was half of what the kid was gonna be trying to figure out, here -- if there was another way to do that, to go out there safely. _More_ safely. And Stan sure didn’t want to be bait for any lizards that might want to snap any of them up, because he was pretty sure that that was what he was gonna end up being, if he tried muscling in on things that he really shouldn’t be doin’ and tried to go on out there with them; he could run fast, but _float_ fast? This was the kid’s specialty -- all of it: floating around, looking around, and grabbing up info -- and once the kid was back, Stan could help him figure out what was _really_ going on out there, since the kid was more paranoid on a _good_ day than Ford was at his worst. Kid jumped to the worst conclusions like lightning to a metal rod, every damn time.

Stan had wanted the kid to not call up his demon-friends, because he hadn’t wanted the kid dragging that noise straight down into their backyard -- _literally_. But with _this_ … they _already had_ noise coming after them, because Miz had already had some ‘broken Bill’ after her _right now_ , that was keepin’ her here.

And Stan figured that one of the only things that could do _that_ kind of junk to a Bill Cipher would be another him and a memory gun blast followed by a good and heavy right hook, or one of those ‘god’-lizards the kid was starting to worry about now. ~~Yeah. It was about time.~~

And considering that _the kid_ **wasn’t** _still_ ‘glitching out’ after _he’d_ come back (and had mostly pulled himself back together right before the punch Stan had given him anyway, _which is why Stan had punched him when he had_ ), Stan was thinking it a whole lot less likely that it had been the ‘one good punch and a memory gun’ one. In either order.

~~Better to send the _kid_ out to maybe get eaten, than have whatever-it-was coming _here_ , Stan figured. ...But that was kind of a lie, the kind he’d tell Ford if he asked -- because Stan knew that bad things like that never just stopped at just one thing. At just one person. So whatever was out there doin’ this stuff? Pulling it off on other triangle demons? Stan doubted it would stop at _just_ the kid, if it did manage to catch him. ...So the kid had better _not_ get himself caught.~~

~~Hell, like he’d really needed another reason to want to keep the kid around, besides the whole--~~

Stan had known that, sooner or later, the kid was gonna want to help Miz out with this ‘broken Bill’ thing. And you had to give trust to get trust. Stan knew that one, too.

Stan couldn’t lock down the kid -- _nobody_ could, not _really_ \-- and the whole _point_ of the agreement was to make that problem a _solution_ instead. To make the kid work _for_ them, instead of _against_ them. ~~_To turn him around, and point him right back at--_~~

And Stan knew he didn’t really have much of a choice here, anyway. Kid had just got done talking about ‘fallback measures’, and losing the anchor had been one of them. Stan had listened carefully, and it was pretty damn clear at this point the kid knew enough about the thing to get rid of it if he really wanted to, with or without that being what Stan himself wanted. ...It was also clear that the kid didn’t _want_ to break the anchor yet, for whatever reason. So instead of pushing for something stupid, Stan did the opposite. He wanted the kid’s weirdness to stay locked down as much -- and as much of the time -- as possible; he wasn’t going to give the kid a reason to _want_ to try and break it, now.

The kid hadn’t put it this way, hadn’t even tried to threaten him with it, but from what Stan had understood from the kid explaining things to him, and to Miz… either Stan could give him enough slack on the weirdness-powers stuff that he could do this the ‘better, easier’ way, or... the kid could break or get rid of the anchor or whatever himself, go off and do this thing with Miz anyway, and when he came back, there would be no anchor restricting the demon in any way from there on out anymore.

It was a choice between handing the kid a loaded sniper rifle (that belonged to the kid and) that the kid damn well knew how to use, and then having the kid go off and do his thing, and then come back to him and hand it back over for Stan to go off and lock up again for him… or refusing to, and the kid sneaking over to that chest and stealing it back away from him in the dead of night anyway, and who the hell knew _what_ the demon would do with it, then.

Thing was, Stan knew how this shit went down. He knew what ‘I’m going to kill you now’ was like. He knew that nothing was or had been actually physically stopping the kid from trying to kill them all since he’d entered their dimension in the first place, weirdness or not. And he knew that what the kid wanted to do wasn’t ‘killing them’, not now.

The only thing that had ever stopped the kid from killing them had been the demon-kid himself.

Maybe Ford just hadn’t been able to ever take advantage of that, but Stan? Stan sure could. And he knew it.

And he would. He was. --He already had been, with the other-dimensional ‘set’ stuff that had come up already. Kid had set up a bunch of alarm and traps, and Stan had _already_ given him ‘full permission’ to use those powers in defense of their dimension from outsiders, more than a few weeks ago.

\--And when Miz had first shown up, the kid had practically leapt out of the window, gotten down onto the lawn and outside the barrier in a rush _with hands blazing_. Stan had seen the flames the kid had been waving away afterwards; he'd come out fast, packing heat and ready to punch.

The kid had been standing there, looking up, resolute and ready to face up just about anything.

Kid had acted just as well as Stan could’ve ever asked out of him or anyone else, and then some.

...But it wasn’t like Stan had told his brother about that one, either. Not like he needed ‘permission’ from _Ford_ to work out something on his own with the kid. Let alone something that was related to the _agreement_ he had with him.

So the thing with this ‘broken Bill’, now? This time wasn’t actually all that different from any of the other stuff before it, from where Stan stood. Kid was worried about _incursions_ by other Bills from other dimensional sets that might even be stronger, more powerful, or smarter than him; so they were adding stuff that was the same kinda problem to the list, just with a different name attached to it -- so what. The only difference _here_ was the kid going out and playing a little more offense than defense, maybe. Not that Stan had let the kid even _think_ ‘offense’ this time out -- recon was supposed to be _neutral_ , just going out and saying hello to the neighbors, really. Not even looking to case the joint.

He’d talked it out with the kid, and the kid… would be going off with Miz once the coast was clear. They weren’t gonna be heading out there when they thought the ‘broken Bill’ was around; they were being cautious. Kid wasn’t rushing things; that was good.

They were going to let Miz check if that ‘broken Bill’ was around first; if he was, they would wait. If he wasn’t, then they’d take that chance and head out right then. So there was no idea of ‘when’ and no hurry to get out there, only that they eventually ‘would’, and the kid was asking for Stan to give ‘in advance’ permission for this thing now. So, yeah. He’d be ‘easing up’ on the anchor _now_ , sure. But that didn’t mean the kid could do anything in the meantime; the kid would only actually get more to work with once that happened, and they were just about ready to leave -- just like the dimensional alarm thing. Because Stan was only gonna be easing up on it for just _this one thing_.

The kid had even helped him make the ‘easing up’ a bit more specific than Stan had been originally thinking, staging it so that he’d be able to grab _some_ weirdness powers stuff while in this dimension, but could only grab the rest of his power for things once he was elsewhere. And the fact that the kid had said it, and given reasons that had included Ford and the kids and ‘mental attacks’, had been… yeah. None of it had been anything _like_ open-ended, and _some_ of it had even been a one-time-only thing. --Stan wasn’t _about_ to say ‘no’ to that.

So Stan went inside the house. He went into the kitchen, and grabbed himself a soda from the fridge. He popped it open, sat down at the kitchen table, and he thought everything pretty carefully through.

And then he, very quietly, gave the kid permission out loud, ‘to the anchor’, to do what they had both talked about him needing to do for this.

\---

Bill pulled in a breath outside, where he sat. WELL, WELL, WELL. _That_ had been quick! He’d certainly felt THAT one. --Really, he’d thought that Stanley would at least want to talk about it with _some_ of the others in his Zodiac first -- like Shooting Star and Pine Tree, or at the very _least_ his brother.

GUESS NOT! Bill let out a slight laugh and shook his head.

"We’re all yellow on my end, sis," Bill told her. "Whenever you’re ready, I can back you up, _and then some_ ," he indicated, letting her know that it wasn’t just the ‘dimensional defense’ stuff he had in his arsenal again, anymore. (Which meant that if she ‘appeared’ the Door and something tried to stupidly latch on to her and pull her through-- Well, that wasn’t a PROBLEM though. Bill would see to it that nothing would EVER get THAT FAR in the _first_ place!)

Miz concentrated again, pulling at the edges of her Door, and pulled it back into Existence.

She crept closer to the Door she’d made, carefully listening, making sure she didn’t accidentally hit the Door open and get sucked in -- like what had happened most other times she’d messed with them. She’d checked a while back and it had still been there _then_ , but maybe...

The Door rattled.

"He’s still there." Miz sighed, as Bill shot to his feet up in an ‘attack posture’. "You’d think he’d have gotten bored by now." She waved a hand and the Door faded again.

Bill was still tense, and he only relaxed slowly as he began checking over the area (both physical and metaphysical) carefully, waiting -- _JUST IN CASE_. "Might not have anything ELSE to do, over there," not if it really couldn’t get through any other Doors. "Can’t say you aren’t worth WAITING FOR though, little sis! HA!" He smiled at her as long seconds passed, and nothing seemed to try and make the Door reappear from the other end of the connection.

And, once a few minutes had passed, and Bill was done completing his checks...

"Well, what’re we doing today, since we can’t go out?" Miz asked him, sitting back on the edge of the porch (after making sure to put her cuffs back on, before attempting to re-enter the barrier, this time). "Do you wanna watch some anime with the kids?" She looked up at the sky. "Or maybe I could meet the rest of your Zodiac?" She’d wanted to do that for a while.

"Well, there’s ‘out’, and there’s _out!_ " Bill told her, "And there’s OUT. --But I’m thinking that staying local is probably a good idea, after I had to smack you back down into your body." Bill hadn’t liked doing that -- it had been more of a forceful and very quick _shove_ , but it had been metaphysically a bit too close to an actual _hit_ for him to be happy about it. ...If he HADN’T done it when he had, though, _and_ that quickly, she would have been FAR worse off than that ‘smack’ he’d had to give her on the top of her ‘head’, he was _very_ sure.

Bill thought for a bit. "We _could_ go into town and meet more of my Zodiac," Bill said slowly. "But Stanley just gave me a lot of permission for things just now," and he didn’t particularly want to push things further. Also, _Gideon_ was in town to run into. Better to let things settle a bit on both those fronts, really. "We could… ask some of them to come here to the Shack, instead?" Bill tried, with a slight thinking frown going on as he thought of Shooting Star’s ‘sleepovers’ and such. "Or I could take you to see the spaceship; haven’t done that, yet. An anime marathon with Shooting Star and Pine Tree would work, though," Bill said, turning towards the house. "Maybe…" Bill blinked. "...we could… tell Question Mark that we want to have a movie marathon? For anime movies? And that he should invite all my other Zodiac? --Except Glasses and Gideon," Bill elaborated with an annoyed look. "I don’t want them here," he added almost huffily, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. (And frankly, it didn’t take a genius to understand why.)

"I’d like that. We’d be able to have tons of snacks!" Miz grinned. "And I can show everyone Mob Psycho 100! It’s a good story, and it wouldn’t cause problems for the kids, since it’s a story that children around their age are supposed to be able to watch." Not to mention it was just a good show all around. And had many messages that Miz wanted to put out there for her brother and everyone else to learn. Especially Stan. And she probably shouldn’t make them watch the Matrix until she got the all-clear from Stan on that one, anyway.

"Alright, then. We’ll do that!" Bill grinned, seeing Miz so fired up for the idea made him feel a bit warm all throughout his insides. (He liked being warm.) He turned to walk back into the Shack. "Hey, Question Mark!" Bill called out to his Zodiac. "You’re gonna make a few calls for me! Chop-chop!"

\---

"An… anime marathon?" Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "And… they’re inviting all of us who are a part of the Zodiac?" She glanced over at Dipper with a suspicious look. "This isn’t some kind of trap, where the demon’s trying to get us all together so he can turn us all into tapestries again, is it?"

"It’s not all of us, and no. I don’t think so?" Dipper sighed. "Miz really likes anime, and I think she assumes that we’re friends for some reason. ...Or at least, she _wants_ to be friends with us?" He looked over at Mabel, who was making faces at the one pony Pacifica had been able to keep. "Mabel--"

"Awwwww~" Mabel said as she looked at Pacifica’s pony (so cute!!), then heard her brother and shook herself. "No. The pony is a distraction. A cute and cuddly distraction. --Focus, Mabel. You can do this!" She slapped her hands quickly to her cheeks after her quick ‘self improvement’ rallying speech, and turned back to Pacifica. "Um… what were we talking about?" she asked Pacifica almost sheepishly.

Pacifica gave her a long look. "...How the crazy triangle demon is probably just trying to get us all in the same place to turn us into tapestries again, or kill us this time?" Pacifica drawled out, looking at her fingertips as if playing with her nails. (...while she still had her gloves on.)

Mabel let out a laugh and waved a sweater-adorned arm at her friend. "Oh, Pacifica, don’t be silly! Bill doesn’t need us all in the same place to kill us!" she told her friend and her brother both.

Dipper winced. " _Really_ not helping there, Mabel." He turned back to Pacifica. "Besides, McGucket and Gideon were _specifically_ not invited. Like, _un_ -invited not invited. --Bill was pretty clear about not wanting them there." Dipper shrugged. "I don’t get it though. I mean, not wanting _Gideon_ around, I can understand. He’s…" Dipper made a face. "Well, no one really likes him, least of all Bill. But I don’t know what he’s got against McGucket."

Pacifica gave Dipper a long look. From what she understood, ‘not liking Gideon’ hadn’t exactly stopped Bill from making deals with the underaged ex-con before. And...

"Maybe he knows that McGucket’s out to kill him?" Pacifica said dryly. "Given that you _did_ have him repair that time tape for you, _and_ you let the demon know that little fact."

Dipper flushed sheepishly. "Ah… well…" (Mabel snorted and gave Dipper a small smack to the shoulder. At least _she’d_ managed to grab those magic-suppressing cuffs Bill had made for her, when she’d found them on the ground after they’d gotten back, to get them back to Old Man McGucket. Good thing Miz didn’t notice… or didn’t care that they’d gone missing. That hadn’t kept her out of the Shack, though. Grunkle Ford still had to see her a bunch, and sleep under the same roof as her, feeling all not so great about it... Actually, Mabel was pretty sure Miz had made a new pair of those cuffs for herself _by_ herself, not gotten another set of them from Bill; those new cuffs she was wearing nowadays certainly looked different, but they were still pretty easy to see, almost as if Miz made them purposely noticeable -- unlike what Bill had done, which had seemed almost the opposite. It was a little weird, too. Anything she’d seen that Bill had made had almost kind of a certain look to it...)

"Maybe Bill just doesn’t want weird older men around his sister?" Dipper tried next.

" _Or_ , maybe the crazy demon’s on to all of us," Pacifica said. "Either way, I’m going to have to attend." She pulled a face. "I’ll need to see what he knows. I can’t trust _you_ two to do it right. This sort of thing actually requires _skill_ , and finesse." And Pacifica sighed deeply as she watched Mabel get herself all distracted by the mere existence of her pony again.

Then the other thing Mabel had said finally registered. "--Wait, the demon has a _sister?_ " Pacifica said, staring at her. She’d been wondering who this ‘Miz’ they were talking about was; at first, she’d thought it was some random nerd friend of Soos’, what with them apparently having this ‘anime’ thing in common. "The crazy demon _actually has_ a _sister?_ " She’d thought that was just a rumor going around town, that the Pines were hosting _two_ girls at the Shack that summer, instead of just one!

"Yeah, it’s super weird." Dipper winced. "The crazy thing is, he kind of acts like… he actually _cares_ about her. Like… he’s really all protective, and everything!"

Pacifica would have facepalmed at this, if it wouldn’t ruin her makeup. "Dipper, you have to tell me these things!" she berated him. "I can’t plan effectively with Old Man McGucket if you _don’t_ keep me completely informed!" Having the one world-ending demon around was bad enough, but he had a _family?_ Who liked him enough to come visiting? And who he _liked_ having around and in their dimension with him, himself?

"Sorry, we’ve been kinda… busy." Dipper pulled on his hat, not wanting to tell Pacifica that he and Mabel had been essentially grounded for the past week (and counting). "But aside from some problems with Great-Uncle Ford, Miz is _almost_ …" Dipper paused. "I mean, she’s pretty horrible sometimes, but most of the time she’s actually trying to be... nice? --And not the fake _Gideon_ kind of nice, either." Miz wasn’t overly sweet and charming, she was awkward and unsure and it wasn’t exactly _right_ , but it _was_ sincere.

"Yeah..." Mabel said. She had her own mixed feelings on Miz. "If she’d just leave Grunkle Ford _alone_ , then…" The teenager twirled her hand around to try and think of a good way to put this. "Wellllll, things wouldn’t exactly be _great_ , but they’d definitely be _okay_ , at least!" Some of the things she talked about sometimes were worse than Grunkle Stan with the Truth Teeth in. "She doesn’t _mean_ to say horrible things most of the time. It’s like… she hasn’t been taught how to behave right around people?" Even though she’d been human once, way back when. "--But she’s learning! Grunkle Stan’s been talking to her and she’s been trying _really_ hard--" Mabel added, trying to be fair about it.

"--You two just don’t get it, do you," Pacifica told them both, cutting her off. "Fine. Let me put this in terms you two _commoners_ will understand," she said, glaring at them both. "Would _your_ parents have a problem with someone if somebody killed _you?_ \--Because _mine_ sure would if anyone killed _me_ ," she told them, "It’s just a matter of principle! ...And _now_ you’re telling me that this demon’s maybe got a whole _family_ out there, behind him, _backing him up_ ," Pacifica swept her arm out at the sky, "Who might not be all that happy with us all, if we kill that demon while he’s here! --That makes this situation that much more dangerous!" she told them both. "Having _one_ crazy world-ending demon here is bad enough; what if the _rest_ of his family is actually _competent_ at it?!" she demanded out of them both, hands on her hips. It had been a good thing to hear that Stan Pines had managed to somehow convince the demon _not_ to call up all his friends, and invite them back to a new party. But that meant absolutely **nothing** if the demon’s _family_ was going to come to _him_ anyway, invited or not!

Dipper and Mabel winced. "Ah, well, if it’s any consolation, they’re both orphans?" Dipper told her weakly.

Pacifica let out a tired sigh, and slumped about as much as she could in-place (as much as she ever let herself get away with, rather). "And that makes things _so_ much better," she muttered. ...Admittedly, it did, actually. That meant the demon-count was sitting at ‘two’ and not going to get any higher, so long as Mr. Pines kept doing his own job -- at trying to keep the demon isolated from his ‘Henchmaniac’ friends, and whoever else -- along with whatever else that conman was probably trying to do that was probably three different types of illegal. "--But he really has a little sister, and she’s here?" Pacifica tried to confirm. "Who, I’m guessing, maybe has the exact same reality-screwing-over powers as _he_ does, cares about him, and _wouldn’t_ like it very much if we killed him?"

"...yeah. Probably. The last time she was here, Miz made that bouncy house for me out of pretty much thin air, when I asked her to." Mabel rubbed her arm. She didn’t want to make Miz out to be a complete monster. She didn’t like Bill’s sister because of how she’d hurt her grunkle -- she’d made him think that reality wasn’t… _real_ \-- but... she wasn’t a _complete_ -complete monster, in Mabel’s book, because... "They really seem to love each other, though." She winced. "Probably because they lost the rest of their family…" she explained, rubbing at the side of her arm, and not feeling so great about that.

"Okay. Okay." Pacifica rubbed her fingers against her temples and resisted the urge to pace back and forth too much. "I’m going to have to think about this, and maybe talk with her, too." Ugh. Great. The demon who’d rearranged her father’s _face_ and turned _her_ into a textile pattern hanging from his _ceiling_ really had a sister. _Wonderful._ "I’ll figure out how to work this. Somehow," she muttered at the end.

"Well, Miz is pretty nice, for a demon. She almost seems like a regular kid as long as no-one makes her mad… like what keeps happening between her and Grunkle Ford. But it’s not his fault and he doesn’t mean to," Mabel said. "-- _And_ she’s getting better!" Mabel added quickly. "She hasn’t snapped at Grunkle Ford in _days!_ "

"And what does this ‘pretty nice’ demon do, when she gets mad?" Pacifica asked the Pines twins both.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance, and Dipper sighed. "Talks," he said simply.

Pacifica looked at them suspiciously. "Talks. That’s it. She just talks."

They exchanged another glance. "Yeah... only, she…" Dipper couldn’t really figure out how to explain it. "The things she says, they…"

"She hurts our Grunkle Ford by saying too much stuff," Mabel said. "She says things that sort of… break his brain." And she looked really unhappy about this. Pacifica was pretty sure that Mabel’s fists were clenched inside those sweater arms of hers.

"Right; got it." Pacifica could extrapolate from there. There were ways to hurt people like that. Ways to scare them too, that went far beyond blackmail. She didn’t like using them, but some of the family stories about her grandparents, or her great-grandparents… She wasn’t about to say this to either of the Pines twins, but her parents were practically saints by comparison to _some_ of her ancestors...

"And sometimes she says other stuff that’s pretty awful, but it’s like she doesn’t realize that it’s awful," Dipper added, exchanging a look with his sister, and looking uncomfortable himself. "Which is _kind of_ like Bill, except…" Dipper pulled a face. "At least _she_ seems sorry sometimes when she realizes she’s saying horrible stuff. And she _does_ listen to ‘stop’ and ‘no’ _most_ of the time," Dipper added, which was kind of both in the plus and minus column for her, as far as he was concerned.

"So, what’s the deal with this ‘party’ they’re trying to throw, then? If it’s not supposed to be all world-ending like the last one," about which Pacifica had her doubts... "Is Bill trying to introduce us to his family?" Pacifica asked next, because it was about the only other reason she could think of for somebody powerful enough to _want_ to draw up a social function: to introduce someone to the rest of society. (Well, the rest of society that one _cared_ about impressing, that is.)

Mabel blinked. "Actually, I think Miz is just bored," and Dipper hissed out, "--And we _don’t_ want her getting bored."

Pacifica looked between them. "Why?" She frowned at them slightly. "...What happens if she gets bored?" she asked them both slowly.

The twins both exchanged another look. "She can manipulate reality, just like Bill can," Dipper said simply. "What do _you_ think?"

"She hasn’t really been bored yet," Mabel added, hugging herself and twisting back and forth, and back and forth, in place a little bit. "And we _kind of_ **don’t** want to find out."

Pacifica let out a breath slowly.

"I need to leave and get ready," she told them. "You two can show yourselves out; I’m going to be attending that party." She was going to have to call Old Man McGucket, to let him know the situation; from the sound of things, he was going to be the only _real_ backup that she’d have for this thing, whatever it was really supposed to be. Gideon was no help these days; he couldn’t seem to make up his mind between marching straight up to the Shack with those ex-cons of his and calling Bill out, or wanting to hide at home under his bed until the next Weirdmageddon was over and dealt with forever.

\--Not to mention, she needed to figure out what would be appropriate to _wear_ to this… anime showing at this commoner’s house.

"--Butler!" Pacifica called out, as she turned on her heel in her riding gear and headed back for the main house, leaving the Pines twins behind to see themselves out. She wasn’t going to be doing any more riding today.

\---

Miz hummed cheerfully as she set up pillows and beanbags around the storage room. It was the place where the wax figures had used to be kept, but since they’d all gotten killed by Dipper and Mabel (and really, why wasn’t anyone more upset about that? When _she_ killed people unwillingly, it was still a problem, but the twins could do it on purpose and no one cared? ...Well, it was self-defense though, so maybe that alleviated the blame…), she was going to use this space as a makeshift theater room. There was plenty of space, a large expanse of wall that she could use the technology in her suit to project the Screen onto so that everyone could watch the show...

And there were going to be snacks! All sorts of chips, sandwiches, fruits, and drinks! She and Soos had been in the kitchen getting things ready, and now she was putting the finishing touches on all of the seating. --Stan would even get a nice armchair, one that was super-comfortable and everything!

Miz gave the room one last look. Perfect! And as she did so, she reminisced for a bit about the anime marathon parties she’d used to have with her human friends, and the ones she’d started having with her Maniac friends. The human ones had involved crowding around her computer in her basement, since they didn’t have much space, but it was the company and commentary that made it so much fun! With the Maniacs she could give them a lovely huge screen to watch on, with all the comfortable seats and snacks they could ever want...

She looked up, shaking herself out of her reminiscing, when Soos came in with an armful of snacks. "Hey dood, whoa. This place looks nice," Soos complimented her, as he put the food down carefully on a low table.

"Thanks. Do you know when the guests are arriving?" Miz asked, making her way over to move the food around so it wasn’t all bunched up together. Soos shrugged and told her, "Like, they should be arriving soon, dood."

As if on cue, she heard some footsteps before Dipper and Mabel showed up with Pacifica. The blonde did a double take when she saw Miz. "Is that her?" she asked Dipper from the corner of her mouth. He nodded. "Ah, Pacifica, meet Miz Cipher. Miz, this is Pacifica."

Pacifica wasn’t really sure what she’d been expecting, but a little girl who looked around their age, maybe a bit older, dressed in a simple dress with a picture of cthulhu on it _wasn’t_ it. Before the Northwest heir could say anything though, Miz grinned widely at her, and practically bounced on over. "Hello! It’s really nice to meet you! You’re a lot prettier in person," the younger demon said as she held out her hand. "Hi, I’m Miz."

"Ah," Pacifica said, as she looked down at Miz’s hand. She knew about shaking hands for deal-making from the twins, and while she might be wearing her gloves... "Pacifica Northwest," she said, stepping forward to clasp _arms_ with her instead. "You’re Bill’s sister?"

"Yeah." Miz didn’t seem at all offended that Pacifica didn’t take her hand. She shook and let go, stepping back. "Find a spot to sit, I’m gonna go and grab some more snacks and then we’ll wait for everyone else to show up." She gestured at the many pillows and beanbags.

Pacifica had been about to open her mouth to ask rather haughtily which one was the best seat there, since she could hardly tell, when she felt a slight chill come over her.

"WELL, WELL, WELL," she heard from right behind her back, and she forced herself (with years of training in etiquette, and other things) to remain still (rather than shiver or jump in shock), as she heard Bill Cipher’s voice ring out above her. "Look who’s here! --HELLO, little Llama," Bill enthused down at her with a grin, as Pacifica primly turned around in place. "Now that _YOU’RE_ here," the demon said, leaning down slightly towards her, still looming, with his hands still-hidden behind his back, "The _party_ can REALLY begin!"

Pacifica stared at him. And Bill’s grin got even wider.

"Bill, cut it out," Mabel scolded the demon with hands on her hips, much to Pacifica’s amazement. "You’re being all demon-y again!" And even Miz pouted at her brother and said, "Don’t scare the guests."

"Kid, _low energy_ , yeah?" Pacifica heard called out from the hallway -- from Mr. Pines, she knew _that_ voice -- and the demon...

...straightened up a bit, rolled his eyes at her (and everyone in the room, really), and suddenly seemed to just… relax a bit in place, like watching a peacock ruffle its feathers and then settle back, with its tail no longer spread and full-out on display.

"Just having a little _fun_ ," the demon said. "Didn’t want her to not _RECOGNIZE_ me!" he said next, as he crossed his arms (his hands free, with nothing in them) in front of his chest.

"I saw you the first day when we were all debating whether to use the circle on you," Pacifica informed the demon dryly, "And I already knew that you’d decided to join the fairer and smarter of the sexes a few weeks ago; Mabel has been sending me pictures to my cellphone every day since." ...The news of which had the demon blinking at her, then turning to Mabel. And the crazy demon had a look on his face that Pacifica couldn’t _quite_ … place.

"Surveillance?" the demon asked Mabel, to which Mabel grinned and said a bit too enthusiastically instead, "-- _No_ , silly! You actually allll~most kind of look _cute_ when you sleep!"

...The look on the demon’s face spoke _volumes_.

Pacifica wondered for a moment if pictures of the demon falling asleep on a picnic table or in Stan Pine’s chair with him really _were_ blackmail-level material when it came to the crazy demon currently in-residence at the Shack. ...She discarded the idea quickly, though. It would likely just get her phone (and _face_ ) melted if she tried. (Besides, she was trying to be better than her parents.)

...Though she did make note that Miz was muffling laughter behind a hand. (Maybe it could be useful to share as an incentive for the _other_ demon, instead?)

"Stan, the chair’s for you." Miz said simply as she stepped past the old man who was just making his way into the room, Soos right behind her. "We’re gonna go get more food."

Oddly, the crazy demon seemed to perk up at this information, immediately swiveling his head over to stare at the armchair. And reading his body language, with the way he was actually leaning towards it... Pacifica could _tell_ that Bill wanted to walk right over there immediately, to sit down and take it for himself.

But instead the demon seemed to pause, almost biting his lip. Then, he straightened in place a bit, and turned his head away from the chair and towards his sister, to call out, "Miz, where are YOU sitting?"

Miz blinked. She looked over. "Um… I guess I’ll sit wherever there’s a free spot once everyone else finds where they want to go?" She shrugged. "I don’t care too much, as long as I can still see the screen."

"Is there a seat for _me?_ " Bill asked her next.

Miz pointed at a large blue beanbag chair; it was a little firmer and sat just a bit taller than the others. "I thought you might like that one, but if you want a different one, that’s fine too."

"That one is MINE," Bill said promptly, pointing at the one Miz had pointed out to him. "Stanley." He looked over at Stanley as he said his name. "Stanley, that one is mine. I want it. _Mine._ " (Pacifica couldn’t help but give the demon an odd look as he called this out to Mr. Pines. He didn’t sound like a whining Gideon or a toddler as he demanded this; it was more like listening to an adult trying to express themselves adamantly, in a non-native language that they had a very limited vocabulary for.)

(And to be fair, Pacifica realized that English probably wasn’t the demon’s native language, but… he hadn’t seemed to have any problems speaking it fluently _before_ , during that whole Weirdmageddon madness thing. So what was the story _there?_ )

"...Yeah, I hear ya, kid," Stan said, as the old man shuffled into the room. "It’s yours. I’ll save it for ya."

Bill nodded once, briskly, then turned away from him and strode towards the doorway. "It is _also_ Miz’s! I’ve decided. --We’re sharing," he declared to the room, and then Miz, as he came up next to her, right outside the door in the hallway. "I’ll help you and Question Mark finish bringing in the snacks!" he offered to his sister with a smile.

"Thank you." Miz smiled up at him. Bill shifted in place, a smile of his own in place. "HA! --Don’t thank me YET!"

They vanished down the corridor, along with Soos.

Pacifica turned to the Pines twins, staring at them. Because what the heck had she just watched happen, there? Because _that had almost seemed like--_

__

__

"We should probably grab a seat before the best ones are taken," Dipper said, while Mabel yelled out, " _DIBS on the pink one!!!_ " and practically did a flying running- _tackle_ into it from across the entire room.

" _Dipper_ ," Pacifica hissed out at him urgently, following along quickly to grab at his arm. "What _was_ that?!" Because the only siblings -- literally, the **only** siblings -- she’d ever seen _get along_ like **that** (without practically parental threats of violence to keep them _in line_ , let alone acting _nicely_ towards each other) were--

"You get used to it," Dipper informed Pacifica with a simple shrug, to her shock. (Her _literal_ shock; she was so shocked by his reply that she actually let go of his arm.) The blonde was still _shaken_.

"When you said they liked each other, I didn’t think you meant…" Pacifica could think of no way to finish her sentence, good, bad, or otherwise.

"Yeah, you get used to it." Dipper repeated.

Pacifica not quite glared down at Dipper, as he took his own seat in a nearby beanbag chair and half crab-walked, half-shoved it along the floor, until it was over right next to his sister’s chair, too. Through a force of effort, Pacifica kept from saying what she _really_ wanted to say to them, and instead asked, "Who else is attending this… _event?_ \--Who RSVP’d to the guest list?" she corrected herself, remembering that this was a commoner affair, and not everyone invited might be intelligent enough to actually show up, not realizing that attendance was most likely _mandatory_ in some sense.

Pacifica didn’t doubt that the crazy demon would decide upon some rather unpleasant repercussions for those who _dared_ let down his ‘little sister’ by not attending this... event. And then enact them. The only question in her mind had been, would it be less of a cost to come, than not. For intelligence-gathering, though...

Well, at least she’d had some assurances from the Pines twins before all this that her insides would remain inside her, and her outsides would all remain in the same places, for the duration of her visit. And they had food.

"You, me, Dipper, Candy, Grenda, Soos, Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, Melody, Wendy, and Robbie," Mabel listed off easily. "We didn’t tell Gideon that he was uninvited, but Grunkle Ford might’ve told Old Man McGucket, which is sad," Mabel said with a sigh.

Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "Hm," she said simply. This wasn’t just a ‘Zodiac’ thing, then. "So, we're watching an anime; any idea which one?" She'd heard stories about just how _weird_ anime could get.

"Miz said it was a show for young teens and therefore it should be appropriate," Dipper let her know, pretty much word-for-word. "She said it was about a boy who fights ghosts?" which didn't sound all that bad to him. Dipper was actually looking forward to it a little.

"Ah huh…" Pacifica looked around before finding a comfortable-looking pillow to claim. Well, she wasn't quite sure if the anime chosen was relevant in some way, given Bill’s words earlier about the ‘party’ not beginning without her. Was it meant to be some kind of psychological poke at her? ...No. This wasn't about _her_. At least, she hoped it wasn't. --It _couldn’t_ be. And she didn't want to think about what it would mean if the demon was trying to… what? Make fun of her? Single her out? She’d done nothing overtly to oppose him that he should know about. But with the subject matter being one of ghosts, and the way he’d reacted when she’d arrived...

More footsteps came from the doorway. "HEY GUYS! WHO'S READY FOR A MARATHON?!" The silver tones of Grenda Grendinator bellowed out. Candy waved from beside her best friend. "We have arrived to eat your snacks," Candy informed them all with a grin.

"HEEEY CANDY! GRENDA!" Mabel shrieked back as she waved her arms in the air. "Here, here! Sit next to _me!_ " She patted the pillows around her excitedly. The girls made their way over, maneuvering around all the other beanbag chairs and pillows and cushions; Grenda grabbed a bowl of popcorn as she went.

"Hey guys." A knock came at the door frame and Wendy waved as she strode in. "So, like, you turned the storage room into a theater? Pretty nice." She looked around and was about to sit down when Dipper cried out to her, "Wait! That's Bill's chair," while waving his hands in a big warning ‘no’.

"Yeah, you should probably choose a different seat," Stan said with a shrug from his own armchair, but it was still pretty clear that what he was saying wasn’t exactly optional; it was final. Wendy didn't care either way and sat down beside Dipper instead.

"So, where're our hosts?" the redhead asked him. Dipper sighed. "They went to go get more food with Soos." Dipper glanced over at the doorway. "Is Robbie coming?" he asked Wendy.

"Should be," Wendy said. "I called him and threatened to tell Tambry about all those old band posters of his if he didn’t come over. Y’know, the ones he 'screwed up' and didn’t want anybody to see," she told Dipper with a smile, nudging him with an elbow.

Dipper chuckled. "The ones with makeup?"

"Nah," Wendy said, lounging back in her beanbag chair. "The ones that _weren’t_ ‘edgy’ enough. The best ones are all pre-emo phase, when his parents were still having him take music lessons and do ‘normal’ _choir_ music and stuff."

Dipper’s mouth dropped open, and then he snorted. "What I wouldn’t give to see those!" He snickered.

"Eh, I’ve got ‘em on my computer at home," Wendy told him casually. "I’ll email a couple of ‘em to you later," she promised easily.

"Wow, thanks Wendy," Dipper said, feeling a little blown away. "Aren’t you… worried that I might show them to someone else?" That’d make them worthless as blackmail material after that, after already having been released.

"Hey, Robbie ripped at me for forty minutes on how I didn’t tell him about how the demon had a sister -- pfft, like it’s my job to ‘let him know’ when stuff happens, instead of him just picking up his cellphone and talking to you or Mabel instead," Wendy complained. "I had to hang up on the jerk. If you want to show some of ‘em to other people, be my guest. He deserves it. It’s not like I don’t have plenty of ‘em," she told him with a smile.

Dipper couldn’t help but smile back.

"Dipper…" Mabel quietly teased him under his breath, as Wendy looked back at the screen, and he said, "I know, I know." He _swore_ he didn’t have a crush on Wendy anymore, _really_ , it was just… it was nice to be _trusted_ and to have real friends you could count on to have your back, y’know?

"Woo! Food incoming!" Miz cheered as she came back with more snacks. "Oh, hi!" She lit up when she saw the other guests. She put down her armful on the snack table before going up to Grenda and Candy, both.

"Hello. You two must be Candy and Grenda. I’m Miz." She held out her hand. "It’s nice to meet you." And right there, standing right next to each other, Dipper blinked and then blinked again. Okay, he wasn’t racist, really! But... he’d never noticed how similar Candy and Miz looked. Because sure, Candy had glasses and a rounder nose and Miz had those moles under her eye and a thicker chin, but... Dipper rubbed his eyes. _’I’m not a racist, I’m not a racist…’_ he mentally groaned to himself.

"Problem, Pine Tree?" he was asked, and the mental groan became an out-loud--

"--IT’S NOTHING!" Dipper said a little too loudly. Everyone raised their eyebrows at him before Grenda turned back to Miz with a huge smile.

"HI! IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU TOO!" Grenda bellowed out to Miz, and Miz squeaked when Grenda enveloped her entire arm with a hearty handshake.

(Pacifica noticed how Bill went still for a moment as he watched Grenda and Miz interacting, from the moment it had looked like Grenda was going to touch her.)

Miz’s eyes were wide but she calmed and smiled. "You’re stronger than I thought. Then again, you _did_ lift that armchair with one hand…" She giggled.

"HUH?" Grenda said, because she’d lifted a lot of armchairs before, but she hadn’t done one yet here today. "UH…" she said, as she let go of Miz’s hand. "THANKS!" she told Miz with an enthusiastic grin as her reply. Because being told she was strong was a great compliment!

"It is very nice to meet you." Candy said simply, giving Miz a perfectly ordinary handshake. Miz nodded at them and then looked at the bowl of popcorn in Grenda’s other hand.

"Um, just a note, please try not to drop food on the ground." Miz told her firmly. "If you do, and I know it happens sometimes, please help to clean it up afterwards."

" _After_ this whole thing finishes up, we’ll all help clean the place up," Stan said from his armchair. "If it’s really bad, I’ll get you kids to grab some paper towels, but messes happen."

"They sometimes throw popcorn, little sis," Bill informed her, after setting down his own armload of foodstuffs and walking his way over. "They think it’s half the fun. And mouth scoops are messy."

"Please don’t, it’s a waste of food." Miz pouted. "I know that popcorn isn’t exactly _good_ food, but still…"

"It will be their food after they claim it," Bill told her, "And then they can do what they want with it." He paused for a moment. "...And the goat will eat anything that they don’t," he seemed to decide to end on, in a tone that sounded like he was extending half-a-compromise there.

Miz thought about it. "Okay, as long as it’s not going to waste," she decided.

Bill nodded, then sent a quick glance over to Stan, who nodded at him. Pacifica watched this all, and wondered. She’d seen her own father give… something of a similar slight nod to her, after she’d gotten done handling a particularly difficult client or businessman at a gala or ball or business meeting. And that was...

Soos set down the last of the food and grinned. "That should be enough for everyone." He grinned. "And if we run out, we’ve got back up snacks in the fridge too, doods." He went to sit down next to Stan, a little bit behind him. "So eat your fill. We’ve got plenty."

"All of it is store-bought; none of it was made by myself or Miz," Bill informed them all. Even the sandwiches and cut fruit had been bought, from the diner. (And Miz had traded some quick errands for Susan in exchange for her help with preparing the food for her party. The woman had thought it was adorable -- even Bill’s reponse, as he had watched it all like a hawk the whole time.) "So you don’t have to worry about _that Stanford_ acting like an _idiot_ when you try eating it."

Stan let out a sigh and looked around. "Yeah, I’ll go get him," he said after a moment. "Gimmie a sec." And he got himself up out of his (very comfortable) chair and headed out of the room, looking grumpy about it.

As Stan walked off, Melody was coming down the hall the other way with Robbie. "Guess who I found outside, pacing out in front of the house?" she joked, as she saw him into the room. Robbie scoffed, huddling into his hoodie. "I wasn’t pacing. The place looked _closed_ ," he complained.

Miz lit up. "Hiiiii Stitched Heart~!" she waved. Robbie twitched. "My name’s Robbie!"

"Stitched Heart! Come in and sit over there," Bill gestured to the beanbag chair a little in front of and next to the one that he’d claimed for his own. "The dark-grey one. There." the beanbag chair wasn’t _quite_ black; it looked like it had little red sparkles stitched into the material here and there, too.

For a second, it looked like Robbie was going to protest and sit anywhere else, but then Bill walked right over and behind him, to start pushing at his back to steer him over… and he moved along, groaning almost long-sufferingly along the way. It took him a moment to start walking fast enough to get out in front of Bill enough that Bill stopped pushing him; and, once he did that, he trudged his own way over himself, to plop down onto it.

" _Whatever,_ " Robbie muttered out, as Bill smiled and made his way back over to the snacks table.

Miz was raising a hand and pointing at the wall. A screen appeared, like some kind of hologram and Pacifica’s eyes widened at this casual use of power. ...Had that been magic? Was that what this was? Or was it something else?

Miz spent a few seconds adjusting the size of the screen. "Can everyone see alright?" Miz asked as she made some words appear on the screen. It said ‘Testing’.

"I can see just fine," Bill said, not even looking at the screen, as he continued putting food onto a pair of plates. "No problems with my stupid human-ish eyes here! ...Why? Were you trying to blind someone?" The demon straightened in place and turned around, a plate full of assorted foodstuffs in each hand.

"Can you move it a little to the right?" Candy asked. Miz obliged and shifted the screen over a little.

Wendy sat back in her beanbag and eyed the demon. "Naw, dude. I think she just wants to know if everyone can read the subtitles."

"Oh." Bill blinked. Then he looked over at the assorted group. "CAN you read the subtitles?" He was fairly certain that they all knew American English, and were literate. ...If they couldn’t, he’d have to work on better educating his Zodiac and their friends! He was fairly certain that they could, though. Anything he’d Seen about them would suggest that they could, not that they couldn’t.

"EVERYTHING’S FINE ON MY END." Grenda gave Miz a thumb’s up.

"From where we’re sitting, Bill," Dipper said, half groaning it out. "Because it’s farther down on the screen."

Bill looked over at his sister. "Just put the words at the top of the screen, then?" he (half-)asked (half-told) them all reasonably.

"It’s harder to read them that way," Miz explained. "It’s easier to glance down then look up without moving your head."

"So?" said Bill, to a, "We’re trying to relax while we’re watching, and put in the least amount of effort needed to watch," from his sister.

Bill frowned. "It isn’t _that_ much of a difference, is it?" He’d never noticed it when he’d been possessing other humans, before. Everything had seemed to swivel around as it should just fine! It hadn’t seemed like _THAT_ much extra strain on those ligaments and muscles...

"Well, it’s also easier to see the images happening on screen if the words are on the bottom. If they were on top, human eyesight would miss the stuff happening below." Miz said simply. "Having the subs on top every now and then is fine, but for the most part, it’s easier having them on the bottom."

Bill frowned at her, as he carried his two heaping plates of food over to his chair. "But it doesn’t take that long to read things," Bill said. "Just a quick flicker upwards to See and memorize what it all looks like, then parse as needed while you’re looking at everything else new that is going on after."

"Some of us can’t read as fast as you can, Bill," Dipper sighed, beginning to realize the problem. Mabel raised her hand. "I take longer to read stuff than Dipper does." And Bill looked over at them, stunned.

" _What?_ How long does it take _you_ to read something?" the demon demanded out of Mabel, and when she told him, "Um, maybe a couple paragraphs in a minute?" he looked legitimately _blown away_ by this information (and _not_ in a good way).

"My sister Zeon used to have trouble reading quickly." Miz told her brother. "She had dyslexia and it took her a lot more work to read than most people." She paused, then added, "But also, some people just can’t translate sight to meaning as quickly. They can read a sentence, know what each of the words are, but can’t translate that into the ‘meaning’ of the sentence unless they read it a few times."

"That’s not-- ugh." Bill made an ugly chittering sound, as he passed one of the plates he was holding over to Robbie, and then rubbed at his left temple with his free (left) hand as he settled into place in the blue beanbag chair, holding the other plate carefully as he lowered himself down. He’d _just said_ memorization first, _not_ … But he remembered Miz mentioning something about her sisters during their talks (dyslexia might have come up), but he thought it only made it harder for Zeon to _learn_ to read, not… have trouble forever and always for reading. "That is _NOT_ the most efficient way to handle input. You memorize it _first_ , and parse it all _LATER_ ," he not-quite grumbled out.

"Well, _we_ don’t get to choose how we take in information," Dipper told him. "Some people pick up on stuff easier than other people, you know." And the dumb dorito should know that, that everyone was different, because he’d been teaching his twin sister science in that spaceship differently -- Bill had admitted that. "I know a kid in my English class who can’t read aloud without stumbling and mixing his words together. --He’s not stupid, it’s just some brain thing," he added quickly, trying to cut Bill off at the pass before he could say something horrible about it.

Wendy spoke up, adding in, "One of my brothers has to read stuff aloud to himself to understand it. If he doesn’t say it out loud, he just can’t keep it in his head."

Bill looked decidedly uncomfortable at all this. He looked away from them, his eyelids closing partway in something that wasn’t quite a squint.

"...Stupid human bodies," Bill said after awhile, straightening up a bit in place, before settling into his beanbag chair once again. "--You DO have direct control over SOME things, you know," he added after a moment, for good measure. "Some problems _aren’t_ on the biology-based epigenetics-influenced sensory-intake-pathway end, they’re just _learned_." And _those_ things _could_ be unlearned, or improved upon easily, with a little time and effort -- and _without_ any larger biological changes being necessary, even!

Pacifica was making mental notes. So the younger sister knew more about humans than Bill did? And she’d also mentioned another sister, but in the past tense. So, was the rest of their demon family really dead? And… she hadn’t known that demons could have dyslexia… but Bill had also complained about _human_ bodies specifically, when talking about that… so... demons could be _human?_

"-ome on, Ford. It’s just a cartoon marathon or something. It’s not gonna _kill_ ya to take a break for once and spend it with--" A gravelly voice came from the doorway.

"Is this _really_ necessary," Ford complained, as his brother not quite shoved him into the converted ‘storage’ room from behind. "I was right in the middle of--" He not quite froze in place as he realized how many other people were in the room with him and his brother. "Ah…" He adjusted his glasses with one hand, almost nervously, as he looked around the room at all of them, noting (and recognizing) all the faces...

"Look, it’s a group activity, and the least you can do is hang out with the kids a little more often," Stan grunted out at him as moved over to the snack table for a moment. Bill was sitting on the blue beanbag with Miz settled in at his side.

"Stanford," Bill said. "You sit over _here_." He pointed to the one (tan-colored) beanbag chair left in the room, which was sitting on the other side of Robbie, at the far side of the room; it was the last one in the front row, with Bill’s own beanbag chair a bit off to the side and behind Robbie’s, but far enough away from the tan-colored one not to be able to be called ‘behind’ it, either.

Ford frowned at this arrangement.

"I think I’d rather take the--" Ford began, moving for the wooden chair on the opposite side of the room, but Stan grabbed his arm on his way past him, and Ford glanced back at him, stopping in place.

"Kid, you mind if he moves that chair over there closer to me and the kids?" Stan said.

There was a pause. "...He should sit next to Stitched-Heart," was Bill’s neutral reply.

Ford looked over at Bill at that, while the younger twins exchanged a glance.

"Uh…" said Robbie, not really sure about all this, because _why_ did the demon want him sitting next to the old guy?

Then Ford really looked at the room. He pulled in a breath in almost a hiss. It was the circle, only… not quite. They were missing two, and had some extras, but...

...No, no. It wasn’t the circle, not quite. The order was actually a mix of the summoning circle and the destroying one. Ford frowned as he looked them all over.

Robbie winced, looking at the old dude. "...Man, c’mon," the teenager complained back at Bill. "The old dude’s kind of lame. I don’t want to--"

Ford walked right over and dropped down into the beanbag chair, sitting right down next to him. (It was rather a matter of principle, now.)

"...Great," Robbie said, after a beat, slumping down a little more in his chair, almost like he was curling up around his food.

Wendy snorted. "Suck it up man, it’s not like you have to hold his hand this time," she joked.

"Hey, that’d be _less_ uncomfortable than this!" Robbie complained, which had Ford blinking at him in confusion (not that Robbie noticed, since he was turned in completely the wrong direction away from him in order to talk at Wendy).

Miz looked around. "Is everyone here?" she asked. A chorus of "Yeah,"s and "Yes,"es were the result. She looked over at the screen. "Can everyone see the screen?" she asked next. There was another series of affirmatives -- though Ford didn’t say anything, not really caring if he could see what was on said screen or not. This was just some cartoon. A frivolous waste of time. He could be working on something much more important right now! (--For instance, what he’d been right in the middle of working on, when Stan had forcibly dragged him upstairs…)

Once Miz felt satisfied with the placement of the screen and size of the subtitles, she flicked her fingers, still not quite a snap but close, and the show began playing on the screen.

"Soos, hit the lights," Stan complained, and the handyman did just that, almost from where he was sitting next to Melody in the back row of ‘seating’.

And on that screen was a dark, odd looking place that… almost reminded Bill of the Nightmare Realm. (It would have been almost _exactly_ like it, except for the remnants of trees in the background and the lack of his portal-bubbles… hmmm…) Bill had to remind himself to blink, as he watched some sort of battle going on between an odd shadowy figure and several strange otherworldly creatures… interspersed with a cutaway of a red-numbered counter rising in scale...

A few people were looking at the screen, confused as to what was happening. The counter rose. 95%, 96%... 100%. A strange noise of warning sounded, and the shadowy figure glowed white. The figure let out a blast that seemed to vaporize everything around it, and the screen went black with the title of the show in large red letters. _Mob Psycho 100._

The kids blinked. ...Okay?

The voice of a narrator came on to introduce the setting, and from the subtitles, they were talking about how in _this_ world, there were people with psychic powers...

Stan’s eyebrow raised when the first actual character showed up. A man named Reigan who was… a conman. A very obvious conman. Stan glanced down at Miz but she was staring at the screen. Okay… what was _this_ all about?

\---

(A few episodes later…)

Okay. Stan frowned. Now he was _certain_ that Miz had chosen this show specifically for a reason. The show was about a little boy with powerful psychic powers (and not very good control of them), whose powers would go out of control if he lost his temper or got stressed out enough (with a counter rising up to 100), and end up destroying or hurting the things and the people around him. The boy was awkward and didn’t have good social skills, but he very much wanted to fit in and make friends. The conman was… his mentor, kind of. And despite being a liar and very much using the boy and his powers for profit… said conman-mentor was helping the boy, teaching him life lessons and junk, and mostly giving him the support and advice he needed to...

...Yeah. No way in _hell_ was this show picked out ‘just for fun’. Miz was deliberately showing this to them to… what? Send him a message? Say what she wanted to say without having to say it straight-out, right to his face? Hell, this dragon-lady. --At least the kid actually told him stuff directly. Unlike the dragon-lady here...

Stan was gonna call her out on this, later.

...Weirdly, Bill seemed to be enjoying (or at least not _hating_ ) the show. He was sitting pretty calmly next to his sister, in the same beanbag chair as her, the whole time, and had passed off a plate of snacks to her that he’d been holding when Stan had walked in with Ford -- for her to be able to munch on, apparently.

Stan noticed that Ford was finally paying attention to the story, with a frown on his face.

Stan sighed. ...Yeah, guess ‘later’ had better be ‘sooner’, before Ford freaked out over whatever-it-was that the dragon-lady was trying to hit them all with _this_ time.

"Miz, hold up after this one ends, before you start the next episode, wouldja? Need a bathroom and snack and stretch break, here," Stan told her. He’d been keeping track of the time, and how antsy some of them were all getting.

There was a short bathroom break for everyone after that episode, just as Stan requested. A few of the kids were chatting excitedly about the story. Grenda said the show was "SUPER COOL AND RELATABLE!"

As people filed out, ("Don’t go too far, Ford!") and after Stan watched Bill walk out as well, Stan turned to Miz. "Okay. What’s this about, dragon lady?" he asked. Miz wiggled. "It’s a good show. I identify with the characters, and I thought it was relevant..."

Stan eyed her. "‘Relevant’, huh? You mind tellin’ me _how?_ " he asked her firmly. Because if the dragon lady was wanting to say something… "Either say what you want to say to me to my face, or it ain’t worth sayin’," he told her.

"You’re not Reigan." Miz responded just as firmly. "But you’re still a good man. And you’re..." She sighed. "You’re helping. You’re…" She seemed to struggle to put her feelings in words.

"’I’m not that guy, _but_ I’m still a good man’," Stan repeated in gravely tones, with emphasis. He didn’t like the sound of this, not one bit. "You tellin’ me you think I _should_ be takin’ advantage of your brother?" he said to her, eyeing her.

"No." Miz said. "It’s not about whether you’re using us or not." And Stan had to stifle a shiver at the look in her eyes, putting on his best conman face. (Ford was also tense where he was sitting, listening in on this.) "You’re teaching us things that we need to learn, you’re picking up on the problems and you’re addressing them." She closed her eyes and sighed. "And that’s something that… I know I need. And perhaps brother too." She opened her eyes and… didn't say anything else. _Deliberately_ , with the way she was looking at him. ...And Stan just _knew_ that she knew that Stan hadn’t meant it when he’d said that he 'wanted' the kid. --Not in the way that _she_ thought he should’ve wanted her brother, anyway. Not in the way that the kid might have wanted him to mean it, maybe, from the way she was looking at him. (Yeah, right. As if the dragon-lady knew the kid better than he did.)

...and Stan also realized that Miz wasn’t going to tell her brother any of what she thought about this. She was going to keep quiet about it, keep Bill ‘in the dark’ over it. Because she thought that Stan was ‘ _good_ ’ for her brother. ...Good _enough_ for him that what he was doing was maybe outweighing the rest of it, whatever things she apparently didn’t like about all of it. That she thought having Stan being around to teach Bill stuff was worth more than what he _wasn’t_ giving the kid.

She'd keep quiet _for now_ , because she thought...

Stan held back a shiver, his poker face holding true. And he began to wonder whether he’d been right, or wrong, about suggesting the whole ‘little sister’ thing to the kid, here. Because if she was gonna hold back talking to her brother about something like this, when she thought her brother might end up getting _used_ by somebody else… just because _she_ thought the tradeoff was worth it, then...

(...Then again, she _had_ thought working with her Time Baby was worth it, even if she didn’t like him -- that it had been worth it for keeping her friends ‘safe’ with those ‘get out of jail free’ cards, and maybe still thought it was, as some kind of ‘fallback’ measure, from what they’d talked about up in the attic more than a week ago -- so… maybe it wasn’t all that intentional. Because this wasn’t just something she was thinking about for the kid; this was something that she thought when it came to herself, too. So she might not actually get _what_ was so wrong about what she was doing, at all -- _why_ it was such a problem…)

(Hell, he was gonna have to explain this to her, too, wasn’t he? Damnit. ...First things first, though.)

"Yeah," Stan said simply. "You do need it. And I hear ya," he told her, crossing his arms across his chest. "I get what you’re trying to tell me, here."

Because Stan did know damn well what she meant by, "You’re not Reigan." Because the way the show she'd been showing them sold it, the conman in the show actually _cared_ about the boy he was using. He may have been lying and tricking the boy into working for him, but that man actually _cared_ about and _liked_ and ‘ _wanted_ ’ his apprentice -- and not just for the money he could make.

And Stan stood there and watched as Miz wandered over to get some more food, and then went over and sat herself back down. And he waited for the kid to reenter the room.

It didn’t take but a moment of Bill walking in and glancing over at Stan’s stance upon entry to ask him, "What’s wrong."

"Just had an ‘ _interesting_ ’ conversation with your sister, kid," Stan told the demon-kid. "You want to know what it was about?"

Bill tilted his head at him. "Right now?" the kid asked.

"If you want," Stan shrugged noncommittally, letting his arms fall back to his sides.

Bill glanced to him, then to his sister, then to him again. "Do you _want_ me to ask about it right now?" Bill asked him next, sounding almost curious.

"Might be a good idea," Stan told him. "Melody, you mind having Miz sit over by you for awhile?" Stan asked, as she and Soos walked their way back into the room. "Gotta talk to the kid for a sec-- couple minutes," Stan corrected with a grimace. Didn’t want the kid getting the wrong idea. Kid’s timesense on his own was bad enough, some days.

"I don’t mind." Melody shrugged.

"Yeah, thanks," Stan told her. "Miz?" he said, ticking his head towards Melody. "So Ford doesn’t lose his mind over whatever with you bein’ too nearby and me and your brother not being around for a little bit, yeah?" And with that, Stan walked through the open doorway and into the hallway, Bill following behind.

Miz made her way over, stepping around the beanbags with her plate of sandwiches. She settled beside Melody and after a little bit, Melody raised a hand and began running her fingers lightly and gently through, and over, Miz’s hair. (She’d realized a few days ago that the younger demon really enjoyed the sensation; it calmed her, very quickly. The demon was already purring softly.)

Ford watched and listened to all of this.

And when it suddenly occurred to Ford just what his brother was about to do…

Ford immediately got up and marched his way right out of the room after him, post-haste.

\---

Outside of the converted ‘theater’ room, out in the kitchen, Stan turned to Bill and leaned back against one of the counters.

"Kid, I think we might have a terminology problem here," Stan began, "So we’d better get it straight _now_ before--"

"--Don’t do it, Stan," Ford cut in, rounding the corner. He looked a little pale, and worried as anything. "Don’t--"

"Don’t _**WHAT**_ ," Bill not quite thundered out at him, and Ford--

Ford cut himself off when he saw the way Bill was looking at him, arms crossed.

"...What term do you think is the problem?" Bill said after a beat, turning back to Stanley.

"Stan--" Ford began again, warningly, stepping forward.

"--It’s gotta do with your _expectations_ for this whole ‘me wanting you’ thing, and all the rest of it," Stan told him, because he’d be damned if he’d let that other demon freaking blackmail him over _anything_ , let alone this. -- _Hell_ , no.

Both of the kid’s eyebrows went up at this.

"You want to talk about this _now?_ " the kid asked him. "This could take a while, to come to a full-and-complete accord on," the demon-kid said. "You’ll miss all of the rest of the episodes!" he added, his torso bobbing from side to side slightly, and Stan let out a sigh.

"Yeah, kinda thought that was it," Stan said ruefully, shaking his head. He looked up at the kid, with half-a-smile going. "This is gonna take longer to work out than the agreement, ain’t it."

"We aren’t even done with _THAT_ yet!" Bill said brightly, sounding as though he was in agreement… with Stan’s sentiment.

"Okay," Stan said. He figured he’d just put this another way instead. "Fine. No need to rush it, yeah?" At the kid’s nod, he said, "Got another question for you then." He paused, then asked, "What’d you think of the Reigan guy, and that kid?"

"From and within the context of the story I’ve seen here so far, today? --They haven’t really worked out the parameters of their working relationship properly," the kid told him promptly. "They’re very fluid. That could cause trouble later."

"Uh huh," said Stan. "What do you think about how they treat each other."

Bill just blinked at him.

"Really," said Stan. "You’ve got nothin’."

"I’ve only watched six episodes," the kid told him. "Most human shows aren’t very consistent in their writing, yes? I would need to watch the entire run of the show, first. There hasn’t been much to see, yet."

...Well, at least the kid wasn’t lying. "Really?" Stan asked him. "How long do you usually watch somebody for, before making an opinion of them."

"Inside or outside of their heads?" was the kid’s next question.

Huh. ...Okay. Guess that was a thing. Stan sighed. "Yeah, okay. Maybe we _should_ talk about this later…" especially with Ford standin’ _right_ there, and all. Stan didn’t like leaving it at that, though. "Kid, before we go back in there…" Hell, he wasn’t all that sure how to put this. "Are you… _wanting_ me to try and act like… I dunno, the way you talk about…" (Hell, he couldn’t say _that_ , not with Ford right there; the kid would have a fit. Maybe…) "The way _I_ talk about family, sometimes?"

Bill blinked at him again. "I’m not your family."

"Yeah," said Stan with a sigh, and that answered his question right there. "Didn’t think so." He’d thought he’d been right about this stuff with him. ~~(And thank _whoever_ for _that_ , because--)~~ He nodded at the kid. "C’mon, back to your sister," he told the kid. "We’ll talk about this later."

Bill nodded to him easily, then turned to follow Stan back to the room.

But as the dream demon passed Ford, he flicked a look up to him.

\--And Ford grabbed him by the arm and held him back.

Bill stopped in place. (Stan kept going, having already turned the corner.)

"Do _not_ get angry with my brother, just because your wants are not the same as his," Ford said under his breath to him, feeling severe stress and worry for his brother. "Do you hear me? Do _not_ take it out on him when he--" Ford barely stopped himself before he lost it completely.

Bill gave him a long look. " _Of course_ our wants are not the same," he drawled out to him. " _We_ are not the same. I don’t want _’the niblings’_ to treat _me_ like… ‘family’," Bill told him dryly, with the beginnings of a horrible small wicked little smile.

"You know what I mean, Bill," Ford said in stressed tones under his breath, "He doesn’t want to give you what you want." He wasn’t going to actually _want_ Bill, ever. ~~And Stan wasn’t going to--~~

Bill blinked at him almost lazily, and looked at Ford for a long moment.

And then he said, in rather slow tones, "You were never going to be my right-hand man, were you."

Ford stared at him.

And then he straightened, letting go of Bill, fully taken aback at the thought that--

Bill walked away from him, heading for the ‘storage’ room.

And Ford stood there, shaking slightly, as he realized what Bill had just said to him, with those words and that _look_ , clear as day.

_’You don’t know me at all, do you. You never did.’_

And Ford stood there for a long moment, eyes wide as he realized: he didn’t know what Bill wanted. He really didn’t. And he _never_ had, not really -- not if what had been happening _here_ thus far with his brother, and that other demon, had been any indication of that. And he still--

Ford thought over what Stan had meant when he’d said he wanted Bill, and Stan’s complete and utter ‘practical’-seeming regard whenever Ford had tried to bring it up to him, and in what had happened just now between him and the other demon. And Ford thought over what looked to be Bill’s (truthful and guileless) complete and utter non-response to the relationships he was seeing in the show that they’d just been watching. ...And Ford's breathing picked up and became a little bit shallow as he thought over how Bill acted when it came to Deals, and Bargains, and _everything else_ that Ford had _ever_ seen Bill do when he was ~~in other peoples’ bodies~~ talking to other demons--

And Ford realized…

(No. Oh, no.)

...Ford felt sick.

~~And he felt a terrible mixture of anxiety, terror, and a mess of other things too difficult for him to name, at what else he was struggling to understand, the meaning hidden in the _undertones_ of Bill's words. Because Bill-- he’d thought-- _**useful**_ \-- Bill had thought that he, in some way-- it was something about, some thing about _how Bill thought he was **still useful** in some way_\--~~

And Ford shivered in place where he stood.

\---

Dipper and Mabel were certain by this point that Miz had chosen this show in particular as some sort of dig at, or message to, all of them. They didn’t comment on it out loud -- not yet -- not really wanting to get into anything with her right then. Because the last time they’d watched anime shows with her and tried to talk about stuff like that during them…

Mabel thought Miz was using Mob as some sort of metaphor for herself, and about how Miz probably didn’t have as good control over her own powers as she probably should. And about how Miz, like Mob, didn’t really know how to interact with people correctly all the time, but wanted to learn to do so.

Dipper was worried about the ‘contract’ aspects of the show, between Mob and his conman ‘boss’. He didn’t like the idea that Miz might be expecting their Grunkle Stan to treat her like that, to be a complete jerk about everything, but actually _like_ her underneath all of it. (--No way that was ever gonna happen between her and Grunkle Stan. Not even a little bit.) The kid was paid less than minimum wage to help his boss exorcise ghosts, but it was pretty clear to Dipper that it wasn’t about the money; it was about being around a man who could help to steer Mob into the right path of how to be a better person. Reigan had told Mob that he must never use his powers on other humans. Because it would have been too easy for Mob to _hurt_ someone. _Kill_ them, really. --Heck, at once point, Mob had lost control and taken apart an entire school building, brick by brick, and sent it hurtling into the stratosphere. There was no way a person could survive _that_. The only reason the guy attacking Mob had survived was because he had been a psychic too.

The twins both glanced over as Grunkle Stan re-entered the room, then Bill a good ten seconds later. But Great-Uncle Ford...

Dipper was starting to get worried, when his great-uncle _finally_ appeared in the doorway. ...And even in the dimmer lighting, Dipper could tell that he didn’t look so good.

He walked his way over and sat down in the same beanbag chair as before (next to Robbie) without saying anything to anybody, though.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance, but...

...trying to stop in the middle of everything and focus on Grunkle Ford in front of _everybody_ right now? That would just make things worse, Mabel knew.

So she shook her head at Dipper, and just climbed up out of her beanbag chair to go over and sit snuggled up in Ford’s lap with him, instead.

Grunkle Ford seemed surprised at her change in venue-seating, but he smiled at her and made room for her, so she figured it was just fine!

Dipper stayed where he was for awhile, until he felt weird sitting near the two other girls, who were still getting all giggly about things with each other, even with Mabel not right there to share the stuff with. And between them and Wendy… Dipper got up and went over to sit with Grunkle Stan, plopping himself down in front of the left armrest of his chair, like he’d used to when it had just been the three of them watching stuff together on the old TV in the living room, last summer. (Man, that felt like ages ago.)

And, after awhile, Candy and Grenda got up and dragged their pillows over, to flop them down on the floor in front of Ford, to be near Mabel again too.

Robbie grumbled at them when they got in the way of his viewing, but quieted after they’d gotten out of the way again. Mabel struck up another quiet conversation with the two of them like she had before, and Ford slowly relaxed over time. (Their presence admittedly was helping to calm him, once he realized that he wasn’t expected to engage in the conversation himself.)

Bill had just sat down next to Miz where she was when he’d come back to the room -- which was in the back row, nearby Melody and Soos -- and Miz kept on putting up episode after episode, ignoring all of the minor interruptions of people getting up to get food, resituate themselves, and so forth.

And then, after awhile, they got deeper into the greater storyline where Mob (the main character)’s little brother (Ritsu) got a little more backstory development. And Ritsu was revealed to have been bitterly jealous and terrified of his brother’s powers all along. How Mob had once lost control when they were children and had _hurt_ his little brother. (Stan glanced back at this, and he could see Miz tensing a little, even in the low lighting. ...Heck, the kid was looking a little tense too, though in a different way than his sister.)

Melody (who was still stroking Miz’s hair from time to time, and Stan, who was just paying attention to the demons and everybody in general, not feeling all that engaged by the story) noticed that Miz didn’t untense again until the part in the story where the younger brother realized that he didn’t actually hate his older brother, ’not really’. That the younger brother loved his older brother, even when he was angry at him. (...And it only took him being beat up and kidnapped to realize it, geez. And the way the story put it, apparently the whole ‘I’m still gonna fight to save you, no matter what harsh things you said to me’ thing was the reason Ritsu had realized that about his big brother Mob. It was all very cheesy and sappy and junk. Not at all realistic. Stan sighed.)

...So, from what he was getting here, Stan figured the dragon-lady was maybe trying to tell him that she thought that brothers always loved each other, even if sometimes they fought. Yeah. _Really_ trying to hammer in that nail on the head there, kid. Geez.

Finally, they got to the climax of the whole thing -- the bad guys were attacking, and Mob refused to fight. Because Reigan had told him not to. Even as Mob’s friends and little brother were telling him to fight, to attack the bad guys, Mob simply froze in place, terrified and unable to do it. Because he’d been told that he shouldn’t use his powers on humans. And because he was so afraid of losing control and _hurting_ anyone ever again.

And then Reigan told Mob that it was okay to run away. That if he was scared or unable to do something, it was perfectly fine to run away and let someone else help and handle things for him, instead. That Mob didn’t have to do it himself. That he could run and leave it to Reigan. ...Yeah, leave the fighting to a conman who didn’t have any psychic powers whatsoever, in a battle between people who could lift buildings with their minds or slice anything in half with their powers, sure. But the Reigan guy still told Mob he could run away, anyway. That he didn’t have to fight. And...

...he did.

Kind of. He didn’t _run_ run, but he _did_ decide that he didn’t have to fight, and left the fight to Reigan instead. (Even though the guy had been cut down by a sword and looked dead.)

But apparently Mob had _also_ found a workaround. He couldn’t fight; he could run away. He could rely on Reigan. And so he did.

Stan stared as the explanation came on screen. That, at that moment when Mob listened to his boss and ‘ran away’ from the fight, the build up of energy that signified Mob losing control of his powers had hit the 100% breaking point...

...and Mob gave his powers to Reigan. And hit 1000% of his power level due to Reigan's self-assured confidence about the whole damn thing.

...which is why the conman with no powers had proceeded to kick-ass so nonchalantly (right before that crazy explanation had been given), in a way that made it was clear the man hadn’t even realized what had happened for a huge portion of the fight as it happened, as he scolded the bad guys for being bad guys and essentially forced the lot of them to have some kind of an existential crisis.

Stan leaned back in his chair and covered his face with a hand. Because that was… hell, that was...

...definitely _nothing_ like he was trying to do with the kid at all. Stan let out a tired sigh, because hell… did the dragon-lady _really_ think he wanted to steal her brother’s powers? _Really??_ (Like hell!)

And yeah, sure, Stan had talked to the kid about not starting fights, but this wasn’t… that whole thing on screen was just _stupid_. --The whole point of the agreement was that they were all _gonna_ fight _together_ **against other people** if Stan couldn’t get those other people to back down -- just as long as the kid didn’t go off picking those fights by himself, out on his own, for no damn reason.

Then Stan scrubbed his hand across his face and reminded himself of what Miz was like. ...Which meant that, no, it _couldn’t_ be that literal, what Miz was trying to say with this thing here. The dragon-lady just _wasn’t_ as straightforward or literal as the kid was about things. Because sure, the kid liked his word games, and sometimes he liked layering them deep, but every single level of meaning was all pretty damn ‘in your face’ about it. And anything you didn’t get, well, if you _realized_ something was there but couldn’t figure it out, and you just went off and _asked_ the kid about it… (Hey, y’know, for a kid who liked ciphers that much, he really did _want_ you to get it.)

Miz, on the other hand… she seemed to go more at things a little more sideways than the kid. A little sideways, and a little broader. More general. Less on the specifics, and a whole lot less direct. (So if you weren’t payin’ all that much attention…)

...Okay, so the message here wasn’t that she thought Stan should get powers, or wanted to get them, it was that she thought that... the kid _should_ rely on him, here? That if there was a fight, she thought that the kid really should go off and get help from him, because it wasn’t wrong to accept help, or to run away from a fight he didn’t want to be part of?

Stan let out a breath that was almost another sigh, as the episode ended (and hey, that Reigan guy didn’t get to keep Mob’s powers, it was only a temporary thing, that was good, right?), and Stan shifted and stretched in his chair. ...Hell, had the kid really not talked out anything about the agreement with her at all? Or had she just not _understood_ any of it, when the kid had tried to tell her? (Hell. He’d have to handle this later, wouldn’t he. Didn’t want the dragon-lady getting the wrong idea, or thinking that the kid was actually worse off about some of this stuff than he actually was. Most of the stuff that he’d talked out with the kid, on stuff like running away and relying on other people that the kid had problems with, had really all just led back to...)

Then again, she'd seen the kid play DDNMD before, she should know that Bill knew how to handle confrontations without violence… so maybe this part of the show wasn't meant to he a dig at him and the kid after all. It wasn't like every show she happened to like would have to hit all the points after all.

Well, regardless, Stan had to admit it wasn’t a _bad_ show. He sat back and listened, as Soos, Melody and Miz chattered on happily enough about how there was a whole message about ‘self improvement’ in the show. About how if you’re unsatisfied with who you were, _of course_ you could work to become someone you were proud of being, rather than closing yourself off and blaming other people for your unhappiness or some shit (like how the bad guys did, hiding their own insecurities behind their psychic powers and blamed society for not accepting them, rather than trying to better themselves). ...And Stan had to admit, that part of it wasn’t a bad message.

And heck, Stan _had_ gotten the other thing that Miz might have been trying to get at, that was pretty much right on the nose, and pretty direct itself. The message, loud and clear, of: ‘I don’t have full control of my powers and they might hurt people, but I really don’t want that to happen; please teach me how to not hurt people.’

...Yeah. Stan was gonna have to help the kid with that one with her now, wasn’t he.

Well, Stan figured that, overall, this hadn’t been a bad way to spend six hours, though.

The kids all began picking up any food on the ground, cleaning up after themselves -- as Bill picked up, dusted off, and moved the ‘furniture’ out of the way, off to the side of the room, leaving the ‘dropped food’ that had ended up in (and now fallen out of) the chairs to be picked up by said children. Miz herself checked for crumbs in the second pass, getting out a little dustpan to help Dipper and Mabel as they took turns sweeping up the small pieces, while Candy and Grenda finished handling grabbing up all of the larger stuff (like popcorn, and half-eaten sandwiches) to toss in a bucket for Gompers.

"Um…" Miz asked the kids, as they finished up with their cleaning. "Did you like the show?"

"IT WAS AWESOME! THE FIGHT SCENES WERE SO COOL!" Grenda bellowed out enthusiastically. "AND THE CAPTAIN OF THE BODY IMPROVEMENT CLUB WAS A HOTTIE!"

Candy just giggled with a blush, "Those muscles. I would like to touch them!"

"Eh, it was a fun time." Wendy smiled. Heck, free food and an excuse to not work? Heck yeah she'd take it.

"Thanks for inviting us," Melody said for herself and Soos, giving their thanks as well.

"Heh," Soos laughed, as he picked up the empty serving plates and bowls over at the snacks table. "Huh. Kinda funny how that Reigan dude is kinda like Mr. Pines," he pointed out rather obliviously.

"They're not similar at all," was Bill's own take on the subject.

Stan raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah?"

Bill glanced over at him. "He was completely oblivious. And stupid. The character also had very different motivations than you do," Bill ended, as he turned away from Stan to toss another errant beanbag chair onto the pile in the corner, before dusting off his hands.

...Stan wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this. Kid wasn’t lying, but… (Stan blinked as he realized, did the kid really not think of him as stupid?)

Miz tilted her head in thought before shrugging. "Stan is not Reigan," she said simply. "But they're both good men. And Stan is definitely _not_ stupid." she added.

"Yes," Bill said, sending his sister something of a confused look. "Stanley is not Reigan, and Stanley is not stupid." He didn’t think that anyone would think that Stanley was either of those things. So _why_ was his sister saying this? He wasn’t stupid; neither were his Zodiac… Though, "Define: 'good'?" (But Miz looked like she didn’t know how to explain it.)

Stan ruffled the kid’s hair a bit. "Don’t worry about it, kid," Stan told him, dropping the hand. "Your sister was tryin’ to make a point. --Like I said, we’ll talk about it later."

Bill gave him a long look, then turned away from him. "Fine."

(Ford grimaced. Pacifica glanced between them, and made a note to ask about it later, when they were all at the mansion.)

"Well, I had fun watching the show." Dipper shrugged. "At least it had more plot and action than the last one."

"So does Mob get together with his crush?" Mabel asked Miz.

Miz shrugged. "I never got to finish reading the manga before…" she stopped herself there, before she started talking about how she’d died, back when she was a human. Stan was almost proud. (Almost.)

Miz changed the subject, looking over at Robbie. "Did you like it?" she asked him, since Robbie had been quiet for most of the marathon.

Robbie shrugged, hunched over a bit like he usually was, posture-wise. "It was okay," he said nonchalantly, not wanting to say anything either way.

"Well I for one, think the show wasn't bad." Pacifica said primly. "Thank you for the invitation." She'd learned quite a lot today.

"Thanks!" Miz beamed at her.

And that was probably about as open an ‘invitation’ as Pacifica figured that she was going to get. (So she’d just make one herself.) "You know, this was actually kind of… fun. And this town can get a little boring at times. If you run out of anime to watch…" Pacifica didn’t quite think the standard line of ‘if you need anything, anything _at all_ , just let me know,’ would be good to go with here; who knew what the demon might come up with, with something that open-ended. "...Why don’t you give me a call?" Pacifica told the new demon, as she handed her a card with her cellphone number on it. "I have a pretty big collection of movies, myself," Pacifica made a mental note to tell Butler to expand her ‘anime’ section drastically in size once she was home, "And I know what it’s like to be bored." (Pacifica had _almost_ asked the twins to call her immediately whenever that might be the case, but… they were related to Stan Pines. If they didn’t take advantage of _that_ kind of open-ended offer for themselves, she’d give her pony up to the local orphanage for free rides for a day. Not to mention, this demon seemed a bit easier to deal with than the other one.)

Miz took the card, blinked, and then smiled. "Thanks. It was really nice getting to meet you all," she said sincerely. Pacifica paused at that. ...Ah, she understood what Mabel meant by her comment about how Miz was ’pretty nice, for a demon’. She really was. The only problem was the fact that _she was a reality-warping demon_. And Pacifica hadn’t exactly missed how said ‘pretty nice’ demon had almost gone full-Nazi on them about ‘dropping food on the floor’ or ‘wasting’ food. _Or_ how the crazy one had actually felt like he’d needed to step in to talk her down. And if the way that Miz had followed after each and every one of them, double-checking the cleanliness of the floor as they were finishing cleaning up was any indication...

~~It reminded Pacifica of pristine white rugs, and her parents, and that bell…~~

Pacifica took the time to say her goodbyes to the Pines twins, then promptly turned on her heel and left. She had a lot to think about. Also, she had to make a list of all the things she wanted to grill Dipper on, such as everything he knew about this 'little sister'. (He seemed to do better with concrete lists and paper to write his thoughts down on, oddly enough.) Mabel, she’d just text that evening for the initial ‘low down’ on the ever-evolving situation, as well.

\---

Mabel texted Pacifica that night with… of all things, a _video_ along with the words [u won't believe what I jiust discovrred!!! :D :D :D]

Pacifica frowned as she clicked on the video link.

And… Pacifica stared at her phone incredulously.

It was Miz. Pouncing at a laser pointer that Dipper was holding, a rather gobsmacked look on his face as he moved it around the room and Miz chased it.

...Not the pointer itself. The dot. Miz kept pouncing at _the dot_.

Like some kind of animal.

...Up until Bill walked up to Dipper and _snatched_ the pointer away from him, scowling.

And Miz had patted at the wall where she'd last seen the dot, a confused expression on her face.

...At which point Bill had turned and stared at her, looking both annoyed and exasperated...

...and then seemed to _sigh_ and...

Pacifica stared.

...she wasn’t entirely sure what she was seeing here, but--

She quickly forwarded a copy of the video to Old Man McGucket.

Because, in the video, Bill had seemed to flicker in place for a moment, suddenly looking like he was _wearing_ something else entirely. He'd had something else on, underneath his normal-looking commoner-style clothing, and--

...in the video, Miz continued on with her jumping and pouncing-again spree, playing with something that Bill had seemed to have released from his back sleeve, or the back of his arm, somehow. Something smallish, and flying, and lit up with an odd washed-out blue-colored and pulsating light...

...as it flitted around the center of the room, and Miz bounced and jumped along after it.

And then Bill added another one.

And another one.

And...

Within the space of about fifteen seconds, there were about fifteen of _whatever_ these things were, hovering and floating around the room, flittering about and pulsating with light like fireflies, almost. Miz looked _delighted_ at all the things she could chase.

But as much as they seemed to pulsate and flicker, the lights on all of them never completely went out.

...And Bill seemed to have a look of concentration going on, taking in the entire scene where he was standing out of the way, over at the side of the room, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. And...

Pacifica squinted at the video. She had to back it up a bit to recheck what she was seeing, and she couldn’t be too sure from the quality of it, but it looked like Bill was… tapping or moving his fingers a bit, from time to time, against his arms, as the flying things moved, and his sister kept on jumping about.

...The demon was _directly controlling_ these things? _Whatever_ they were?

The video ended eventually, and Pacifica sat back in bed, frowning. -- _Wonderful._ The demon had something at his disposal that she hadn't known about. That wasn’t good; it meant that they’d all been missing something. ...And who knew what else they’d also missed so far.

She didn’t know _what_ those things were that Bill had been letting his little demonic sister ‘play’ with, but Pacifica _very much_ doubted that _all_ they were meant for was floating around an indoor room and looking pretty.

...she also wondered suddenly about just what exactly a demon was. She'd heard from Susan at the Diner that a "very lovely cat!" had come in with the Pines not too long ago, and from what Pacifica had been able to figure out from the Pines’ movements -- and the demon’s as well -- that had been when they'd taken Bill out into the town...

So… were demons actually some kind of _cat?_

...or had Miz been with them there then, too? Had ‘Lazy-Eye’ Susan been talking about Bill, or about Miz? (She hadn’t had her part-time shift at the diner that day, unfortunately, or she would have known it already, for certain, herself!)

Was that behavior something only Miz had, or did Bill exhibit it too? Wait. When Bill had claimed that beanbag as his… didn't cats do that too? Physically claim spots as theirs and then get upset when someone else took it, or got in their way? The peacocks in the yard certainly did.

That didn’t make sense, though. The crazy demon didn’t actually act like a cat or a peacock; it acted like a human. And it certainly hadn’t acted like some sort of animal during Weirdmageddon. Something was off, here. She was missing something... something big. She could feel it.

"Dipper, you had better have some answers for me tomorrow," she muttered down at her phone.

She frowned down at it, then sent Mabel a message, saying that she had received the video, and put her phone on silent mode, setting it down.

She’d worry about all this again tomorrow. She wanted (and deserved!) her beauty sleep.

\---

Damn. Pacifica scowled down at her phone. Because, REALLY?!

Mabel had texted her _again_ this morning, along with some photos that must have been taken later on the night before. Photos of Bill and Miz sleeping together. There was a literal blanket nest. The two demons were (not quite entwined but) pressed against each other and Miz was even hugging a stuffed animal.

But then Pacifica blinked because… the skyline wasn’t right. The photos had been taken outside, at night, and...

[Mabel, what did you just send me!?!] Pacifica texted back. [When or where did you take these pictures?!]

After a few minutes (and having set down her phone again), Pacifica got some replies. [when we went to another timeline and then we had a stakeout on a roof and we all slept on a roof back in the 1970s isn't that cool?? :D]

Pacifica let out a huff, and texted her back immediately. [Send all pictures you took from when you were in that other dimension, Mabel. In order!! The first ones, to the last ones. And give me the story, too!] She would have asked for captions or context instead of a story, but Mabel always took too much time ribbing her on her language when she wrote that. [silly pacifica!!1! captions are too shrt! :D] and all that.

It took a while and Pacifica was sure that Dipper must have stepped in to help at some point -- because the quality of the text explanations she was being sent improved _drastically_ for awhile -- but over the next half-hour she received a series of photos from the twins' accidental trip into what had apparently been an alternate timeline. There were photos of two teenage boys that were clearly Mr. Pines and his brother when they were younger (huh, ok, yeah, they weren't too bad looking back then) and an actual explanation of how and why they'd gone to find their younger Grunkles to try and stop… some science project from breaking that... was _apparently_ important for some reason.

There were photos of a booth they'd set up, with some handmade (magic made?) jewelry (of all things) that apparently Miz had made. Some more photos of the demons sleeping or cuddling together with Mabel's texts of [theyre soooooo cute!!!!] and Dipper’s [Wish they could just stay that way. It would make things easier.] Many photos of Miz eating… more than her body should physically be able to hold, if the photos (and the twins) weren’t lying and they really were before and after shots of what-all Miz had eaten all by herself.

Ew. She seemed to be swallowing an entire fish whole in one photo! And Dipper texted a note on how Miz seemed to like fish, having gone for fish more than any other food when given a choice.

There were also some photos of a weird-looking… snake? Wait, Dipper claimed it was [Miz in her dragon form].

\--The heck? Pacifica was forced to stop for a minute and massage her temples for awhile, before she frowned for too long and developed early wrinkles.

She resumed her text message dive after a bit, deciding that it probably made sense that a reality-altering demon that could screw up people's faces, could mess with their own body, too. She made it through another few pictures, and then there was… another video, this time of Bill being surrounded by a crowd at that booth, and...

Pacifica clicked on it, and blinked as she watched the first thirty seconds of the ‘magic act’ Bill performed for the crowd, almost mesmerized. --Then she shook herself out of it, paused the video, took the time to forward _that_ to Old Man McGucket _too_ , and got up to sit down at her desk and open her laptop. In the space of mere moments (McGucket’s custom-made laptops really were far superior to anything else out on the market), she was able to click open her favorite editing program to a new ‘page’ for her to jot down her observations in.

She propped up her phone on a stand, started the magic video over again from the beginning, and began taking notes.

(And she absently wondered as she worked, if Dipper had done the exact same thing, jotting down his own observations in that old musty ‘journal’ of his.)

She was interrupted at one point by a new incoming photo of Miz passed out on a beanbag chair with Dipper's explanation of [Miz reacts to chocolate like alcohol. Luckily she's a sleepy drunk.]

Pacifica, feeling exasperated in general at this point, made a quick note of this new potential weakness, then forwarded the 'magic' video to her laptop so that incoming messages wouldn’t drop the messaging program back down to the newest message in the middle of her viewing it (maybe she should ask for a new phone from Old Man McGucket, too...). Once the file finished transferring, she picked up where she'd left off, and resumed watching it there.

There was… a lot to be learned here. She went through the video four times, just to be sure that she hadn’t missed anything. Once, for initial observations on what the demon could do; a second time, for how he reacted to people and handled the crowd, and how the crowd reacted to _him_ in general, in return; a third time, to make sure that she hadn’t missed anything; and a fourth time, just to take in the entire performance, to get a feel for the actual overall events as they’d occurred.

And finally, she went back to look at her phone’s message log again, and stared when Mabel finally delivered the goods with a photo of the thing that Bill was apparently wearing under his clothes. It was… some kind of futuristic-looking suit? She forwarded that to McGucket as well, then sat back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling, groaning. -- _Why_ didn't the twins tell her these things without her having to explicitly ask (demand of) them what was going on? Did they just not think it was important?

She didn't know what to make of this all right now. It was a lot to take in all at once. But she _was_ going to ask Mabel to get more photos of anything at all out of the ordinary with the two demons. [What is Bill wearing?] she sent over.

[Some cyber suit that lets him use science when he can’t do magic under the unicorn barrier] Dipper texted back.

...Pacifica let out a frustrated scream at her phone. "That would have been nice to know _to begin with!_ "

[WHAT UNICORN BARRIER] she typed back to Dipper (sent to Mabel’s phone) in a fit.

[the one around the shack. Remember? Its how we were able to fight Bill with the Shactron? We never took it down, so we still have it.]

Pacifica took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

[Does OMM know about this?] she typed back to the twins.

[yes!! he has one up around the mansion alreedy dont worry!! :D] she got back from Mabel.

"Oh I’m not worried. I'm furious," Pacifica said, as she stared down at this. Why hadn’t he told her about the barrier that he’d apparently put up?

[Don’t you think that a good number of people in this town might have liked to know that information, to put up protective barriers around their own houses against the demon!] Pacifica typed back at them. "Myself included!" she exclaimed at her phone out loud.

[...Wouldn’t do any good.] was what she got back, presumably from Dipper. [You need unicorn hair which is hard to come by, and the stupid dorito can just walk right past it now. He could just tear the hair to take it down now if he wanted to, and he could cast stuff outside it to break stuff inside it too. He broke the barrier on the Shacktron with one of the legs during Weirdmageddon.]

Before Pacifica could respond, another message popped up, [bit the unicorn barrier keeps out Miz. She needs tk wear antimagic cuffs to get into the shack! XD]

[Well, that sounds like an excellent reason for me and my parents to have one of those barriers, then!] Pacifica typed back to them. She was still more than a little anxious about what had happened to her father the last time, when...

Pacifica shook her head. Her parents were awful people, but… she loved them, and they hadn’t deserved... _that_. Not getting their faces rearranged, _or_ getting turned into stone.

[miz wpuldbt do aby thing to you or your parents. she aactually likes humans. snd you haven't done anything to make her mad.] Mabel typed back. [she says she only messes with people if thwy mess w her first.]

Pacifica wanted to scream in frustration. "You said she loves her brother, _and we're trying to kill him._ " She took a deep breath, and tried again with, [If the barrier’s really useless to you, then it can’t hurt to just tell me how to put up one myself, correct?]

There was a few minutes of silence and then a literal recipe list came up. But not instructions.

Pacifica frowned at this, until the next message came in, which read: [I don’t believe this is the best method to communicate all of the information that you’re requesting. Would you like to meet and discuss this in-person?]

And then Pacifica frowned even more.

[Meet me at McGucket’s place at 1pm.] she wrote after glancing at the clock, then, [Don’t be late.]

She shoved her chair away from her desk, packed up her laptop, and called out for her, "Butler! I have ingredients for you to fetch for me!"

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My AN:**  
>  Ah, Pacifica. You and McGucket, doin' stuff behind the scenes…
> 
> What, you'd thought that they weren't, just because I haven't been writing a lot about them specifically? And here I thought that the twins' time tape kick-off adventure and Chapters 94 and 95.5 here were a good foreshadowing / teaser / indication of that ;) *eg*


	30. Chapter 96.1: Uuugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> I wonder if it's wrong to Know things. I wonder if it's wrong to just want to Know things. I mean, spying is one thing, but what if I can just pick up what people are doing or thinking, I mean, what if I just figure it out? Well, whatever, I'm just gonna watch for now... even if I can't See.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 112 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/49066637). It was first posted on Sep 16, 2019.

\---

Pacifica frowned up at Ford Pines. The kind-of-hot uncle, or grunkle. Whatever.

"You’re really pushing this, you know," she told him in her usual (haughty) manner, as she shoved open the front door to the mansion. "I told the twins to tell you that we shouldn’t ever meet here in-person, at the same time." Internally, she was kicking herself. She’d _known_ that that last message had sounded kind of off, that Dipper didn’t normally talk like that. But she’d gone and written what she had, without checking who she was writing to first, and... _this_ was the result.

"I'm aware," he told her dryly, looking none too happy himself, "But you should assume that anything communicated via radio frequencies is something that Bill can, will, and has been, intercepting with ease."

Pacifica tried not to grimace at this, as she watched Dr. Pines follow her in, and close the door behind them. He adjusted his glasses, as he walked down the hallway beside her.

"Fine," she told him tersely. "What is this barrier thing anyway? And why can't Dipper or Mabel help me with it?" Because she didn't understand why it had to be him, why he was risking everything this way, just for this.

"Mabel helped me with the original barrier by gathering the unicorn hair for me," he told her, "But neither she nor Dipper helped me with the preparation of the actual formula, or putting up the barrier itself. I don’t have a good reason to make it at the Shack without suspicion from either of the two demons, so I wouldn’t be able to teach it to either of them without Bill wanting to know exactly what we were up to," the man informed her. "But I can understand the need for at least some safety from a broad spectrum of remote and potentially long-distance curses and other magic attacks."

... _Great._ "I see." Pacifica made her way into the main room and then down another hallway. "By the way, why didn't you tell the rest of us about the demon’s little sister, when you were making the case for your brother being able to keep the demon under control? That would have been nice to know about at the time," she told him sarcastically.

Ford sighed. "He doesn’t _have_ a--" He gave her an uncomfortable grimace. "She's a demon. She’s not actually his--"

"--family? But Bill says she's his sister. And he treats her like one, as far as I can tell," Pacifica said to him. "At least, they seem to behave the same way towards each other as Dipper and Mabel do, which is…" Really, she had no words for it other than something which vaguely reminded her of disgust, but felt a lot more uncomfortable.

Ford sighed again. "They apparently decided to ‘adopt’ each other two weeks-- _one_ week ago, from your standpoint. When that man-eater showed up at our doorstep." He frowned. "I don’t know what Bill is planning with this…" Ford looked down, and stopped in the middle of the hallway. Pacifica stopped to face him.

"Yes?" she prompted him.

Ford looked up at her again, and the man looked grim. "I was going to say, ‘I don’t know what Bill intends to accomplish with this _pretend_ family game of his,’ but…" He looked away from her, with seemingly great reserve.

"...But?" Pacifica prompted, and Dr. Pines grimaced.

"To be quite clear to begin with," he told her, "There's no way that any of this is legitimate. Demons cannot love. Even if they put on the act of doing so, they are completely incapable of it."

"But…?" Pacifica prompted him again, when he stopped yet again.

"But," Ford said, seeming to pull in a breath and steel himself, "Bill _may_ not… _actually_ be a demon after all. Not in the strictest sense of the term. And he seems…" Ford grimaced and looked away from her again. "...to be taking this all very seriously, with Miz. At least in the short term. --But make no mistake," the man told her hurriedly. "Bill is still very dangerous, and his moods and whims shift so abruptly that one _cannot_ entertain the notion that he would and will continue to act this way for long. It would be sheer folly to think so, for even a single moment."

Pacifica froze in place. "Excuse me, _what_?"

Ford blinked at her. "I… yes?" he said. "What… part of what I said was unclear?" he tried next, at the girl’s continuing confusion.

"What do you mean, Bill isn't a demon???"

"That isn’t what I--" Ford stopped then pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Bill _is_ a demon," he said in exasperation, dropping his hand. "He simply isn’t… the type of demon that I thought he was," Ford told her, then muttered out, "Because apparently there are _types_ of them, now."

Pacifica stared at the scientist for a moment.

"Fine," Pacifica said. "Okay. Great. So he might not be the type of demon you thought he was. --Does this change anything at all?" she asked him. "Is he actually more easily _killable_ then, or something? Can we _use_ this, somehow?"

"Use--" The man blinked at her owlishly. "...Possibly." He'd looked a little taken aback for a moment at the thought, though. That was weird. "But without knowing... the specifics of _how_ he was able to come back this time," he said with a grimace, "We still won't know how to kill him in such a way that we would have any certainty that he would, in fact, both die and stay dead. Stan is right about that," Dr. Pines told her with a heavy sigh.

"And his sister probably wouldn't like it if we did," Pacifica muttered. "Unless she's one of those types of demon who can't love anyone? But from what I've seen, she really does seem to like Bill." And the feeling also seemed to be mutual.

"An act. Surely." Ford frowned. "A heartless man-eater like her is simply… using this 'family' play-game to get something that she wants. That's all that demons ever do, and they are always and consistently quite fickle. --I haven't figured out what she's after, not yet, but she's been making up all sorts of nonsense stories in a strong play for sympathy, in order to trick my brother into going along with all of it." He grimaced. "And it seems that she is a good enough liar that even _Bill_ is somehow falling for this act of hers, too." And he seemed very uncomfortable at the thought.

Tricking the crazy demon was one thing -- which, frankly, they were and had been pulling off already themselves, right now, ever since the demon had come back (and before that, even) -- but... "Tricking Stan Pines?" The blonde raised an eyebrow. That old con man was nobody's fool. "That doesn't seem very likely. --What stories has she told?"

The man looked irritated, now -- though not with her, oddly. "All sorts of things. She’s been claiming that she used to be human, for one thing. That she died in a car crash, and became a triangular, then demonic, ‘Bill Cipher’ after that." He didn’t quite roll his eyes at this, even as Pacifica raised an eyebrow at ‘became Bill Cipher’. He gestured with his hand outwards, as if to emphasize… "That she has PTSD from being captured by one of her summoners at some point, while she was a demon, and in the Mindscape. That she had younger sisters as a human, and a younger brother as a triangle, before she died yet again. And that, supposedly, Bill used to have an older brother who was killed for being--" he took in a breath rather stiffy, "--for being _unnatural_ in some way. And that Bill's entire plan to take over our world has been just one step in some crazy plan to bring his brother back to life somehow. --It’s all utterly ridiculous! And Stan is just eating it up, taking it all as if it were some indomitable truth!"

Pacifica looked the scientist over carefully after his outburst. He looked severely stressed.

"And how much do you believe of this?" she asked of him next.

And she watched as his shoulders slumped.

Pacifica sighed. (Almost all of it, then? Really?)

"You’d better come in, sit down, and tell me the whole story," she told him, walking a little further down the hallway to the next door down and opening the door. "If we’re going to screw this up with us both being here at the same time, I might as well get the most out of it while you’re here," she informed him, motioning him inside.

Dr. Pines looked up at her, and gave her a rueful sort of smile.

"Yes, of course," the scientist told her, and the man walked forward briskly to catch up to where she was standing (moving far more quickly and with a much longer stride than he had down the hallway with her earlier, which Pacifica noted rather clinically ~~and she was a little bit impressed -- most adults weren’t polite enough to walk at her pace~~ ). He looked horrendously tired.

In Pacifica's thoughts, she was already putting together Miz’s offhand comment about how she’d had a sister who'd been dyslexic, together with Bill’s complaint about human bodies, and this new information that Dr. Pines had just given her: Miz having had little sisters when she was _human_. It fit perfectly. Pacifica doubted it had all been an act, with how Miz had mentioned it so offhandedly, so naturally in a conversation that wasn't about trying to stir up some sympathy for her. The younger-looking demon hadn't even elaborated about the sister who'd been dyslexic.

Pacifica wouldn’t discount the idea of it completely though, of course. She’d met people who could lie that effortlessly, and drop a comment or two that would just be begging for someone to follow up on later. She’d seen that before, both for business-related matters and for personal ones. She had no reason not to trust the ‘subject matter expert’ on demons that she had in the form of Dr. Stanford Pines. But, she didn’t have all the details of the situation yet. (And the man was clearly a biased source in at least some respects, if she’d understood half of what she’d heard from the Pines twins on the subject of the scientist and the ‘dream’ demon. Though he did seem to be incorporating new information as he learned it, and revising at least some of his conclusions as he saw those differences and conflicts in those conclusions emerge.)

So she would get the full story straight from the horse’s mouth, for herself, and see what conclusions she came to on her own.

\---

In a word, Pacifica was horrified.

From the way Dr. Pines told it, Miz had either gone through some seriously traumatic things -- including what sounded like abuse -- or the demon was callous and disgusting enough to _claim_ such, in an attempt to garner some sort of sympathy. ...Even more disturbingly, Dr. Pines didn’t seem to make any sort of differentiation between either of those particular points, nor did he think that PTSD was an actual possible outcome of any of what he'd just related to her for some reason. And from the way he’d told it to her, relating the events which he’d seen, it sounded like this younger demon had (truthfully or otherwise) latched onto Bill as some ‘beacon of hope’, out of some desperate need for affection and family. ...And yet, Dr. Pines didn’t seem to realize himself this angle of looking at the events that he himself was relating. He simply claimed that all of it had to be lies, or simply not relevant in some way, and didn’t seem to bother thinking about any of it further -- what Miz might be trying to imply, or relate, or get out of sharing this information with any of the Pines -- not any of it.

So, there were two things there. Two basic conclusions that Pacifica could make. One, Miz was a master level liar who was stooping low enough to fake stories of past trauma in order to leech sympathy for some unknown reason. Or two, she was a scared lonely young woman who had somehow inexplicably turned into a demon at some point, and just wanted someone to love her.

Admittedly, Pacifica was cynical enough to think that both of them might be likely. Which meant that it very well could be the third possibility, instead: that both of them were true, to varying degrees.

The demon could very well be lying to everyone about herself, telling only what might garner sympathy, and leaving anything else that might not fit her own sob-story narrative out, of course. She was the only one here to tell her side of the story, after all -- there was no-one else that they could talk to, to tell any of them whether she was lying or not. All any of them had to go on were their own instincts, here.

Miz could also, still, be a scared and lonely little demon-woman looking for someone powerful to latch onto, to either do her work for her or to protect her, or whatever else she might need. Horrible people could still love each other, after all. And it wasn’t as though any of these things were mutually-exclusive, necessarily.

Dr. Pines didn’t exactly even have proof that Miz was a demon, one way or the other, just a sort of ‘gut feeling’ from years of experience of recognizing other demons successfully, apparently, or whatever. (Not that he did anything but stonewall her, when it came to asking him for any of the specifics of said expertise in that area.) ...And even if Miz wasn't lying, she could still be leaving things out, to try and get people to think she wasn't as bad as she might actually be.

The other point here, was that Dr. Pines didn’t seem to be looking below the surface on any of what he was seeing. He seemed to believe that it could only be one or the other of these possibilities. Not a mix of the two, like Pacifica thought might be the case, not both; and he certainly didn’t think that it might even be something else entirely -- which Pacifica was still going to have to think on, now that she had a lot more to work with. It was all black and white to him; there was no real room with him for grey. And demons were quite clearly in the black for him.

If Miz was a demon, then to him she was evil. Period. Endstop. Plain as can be.

Pacifica grimaced, then smoothed her expression deliberately. She disliked this sort of simplistic thinking; it was almost never right. (It was also very easy to take advantage of, in the form of false narratives; her parents did it themselves frequently.)

And if even a fraction of Miz's past were true (after all, the best lies contained a grain of truth)… and if Dr. Pines had rejected it straight out and let slip to Miz that he thought she was lying about the suffering she'd gone though...

Well, the twins had told her that Miz had already hurt Dr. Pines, because he had made her angry. He likely had reason to feel biased on this particular front; most people did after being hurt. (And Pacifica felt it was telling that Dipper and Mabel hadn't given her any details of exactly what had happened to him either, between the two of them.) Though frankly, if Miz's trauma was real…

~~_(A torn out ending from a storybook. Being told every night that she had to be perfect or else. That bell ringing and ringing…)_ ~~

...if that had been what had set her off, well. If she'd had PTSD from the sort of thing Dr. Pines had described (in not too much detail), she'd be downright _furious_ at getting gaslighted like that from some know-nothing stranger. (Though not necessarily angry enough to do something that would get herself labeled 'a demon' over enacting it, to be fair.)

Still, Pacifica didn’t know enough to make a decision on this matter. So, despite her skepticism about Dr. Pines’s extremely limited tunnel vision concerning the demons, she held back on voicing her doubts aloud. She would just wait, watch, and figure this out on her own, all by herself. Just like she always did.

"--And Stanley keeps going along with it. He even goes through the trouble of helping this stupid family play continue on, encouraging Bill and the man-eater to continue pretending to be brother and sister. It’s ridiculous!" Dr. Pines ranted to her out loud.

Pacifica held back a sigh, as she knew it was likely that she wasn’t going to be able to get him to think any more broadly about this that day. (Quite frankly, she had no inclination or motivation at the moment to do so.) So instead, she asked him a different question: "Why is it so bad that Bill has a sister? Aside from how she might stop us from killing her brother?"

"Because it makes Bill seem--" Ford grimaced. "Watching him pretend to care about her makes people think he might actually be _capable_ of caring about anyone at all! --Which he doesn’t," Ford insisted.

"And…?" Pacifica asked, rather than the droll '...So what?' that she actually wanted to say. Because, if they all knew Bill was ‘pretending’, then it wasn't like the act would work on them.

"It's dangerous! Bill doesn’t care about anyone but himself! So having him pretend otherwise is--" The man waved his hand around. "--You don't understand what sort of impact that has on the unconscious mind!"

"What?" Pacifica said next, confused. Was the man implying some sort of… hypnotic suggestion of some sort?

"Seeing it, even if you know it’s a lie, you'll start to get used to it and _expect_ it, thinking that it’s normal, that _he's_ normal, whether you mean to or not. You’d start to subconsciously believe that maybe he _does_ actually--" Dr. Pines made a frustrated gesture. "It's _subversive_. He _looks_ human at present. Even if he didn't, most people would begin to anthropomorphize him almost immediately, at the first sight of anything looking like human-like behavior coming from him. The _expectations_ that result from it--" Dr. Pines grimaced again. "It simply can't be countered by pure reason so easily. --It's biological," Dr. Pines said, letting out a tired sigh, as he removed his glasses, to rub at his eyes. "It is literally hardwired into us from an evolutionary standpoint," he explained. "To empathize and to believe that he is the same as you are because he looks human, that he cares about the same things as you do. That he thinks and feels the same way. To relax your guard around him-- he’s _not_ human, and any kind of human-like behavior coming from him is either entirely false, or simply us misinterpreting his actions and reactions to people, situations, and events. Whether he is a demon or not, or what type of demon he might be, is simply not the issue here. _Bill does **not** have human emotions_," Dr. Pines told her, "And he does _not_ empathize with any of us, or the human condition, in the slightest. He isn't human, but the closest human classification for him that fits in this context is the term 'psychopath', or perhaps 'high-functioning sociopath'. --Do you understand?" he asked her almost urgently, searching her face. "It's all an act. He _cannot_ be trusted."

Pacifica let out a sigh. She'd dealt with sharks who she suspected were just that before.

"I'll keep that in mind," she told him. "Though that does beg the question: why haven't you been affected by this yet?" she asked, hoping for a little more clarity from him. (After all, it wasn't as though he wasn't human, and he himself seemed almost incapable of seeing the demon this way, from the way that he'd been talking about the demon here and now.)

Oddly, the man didn't seem taken aback by this, he simply grimaced and said, "I have rather the opposite problem. I've realized recently that I only see him as a triangle, and exactly what it means that others do not. The full extent of the impact that has likely been having on the rest of my family, as they continue to associate with and around him, is…" Dr. Pines shook his head, looking morose. "It's actually quite difficult for me to see what he looks like to others in his current physical form," he told her. "Largely, because I know what he is _supposed_ to look like when he does things, from my many encounters with him in the Mindscape to-date."

...well, that just left her with more questions and answers. Exactly how well did Dr. Pines know this particular demon? And, more importantly, how had he managed to stay alive for so long, with such a negative, combative, and callous attitude towards the demon seemingly driving him? The demon had quite literally rearranged her own father's face for trying to suck up to him! And yet this man, who had been actively opposing him for years… _how_ had he done it?

No. No, she had to focus. Two demons meant two problems. She had to grasp the larger problem _first_ , before dealing with...

"Okay, so the two demons seeming to be affectionate isn’t actually them caring about each other in a human way. So, what _is_ it then?" Pacifica asked. "Why would they go to the trouble of pretending to care about each other? The whole, 'getting us to let our guards down' is one thing, but why would Bill trust this other demon, whom you say he doesn’t care about, nor she about him, to sleep next to him?" Because she'd rather gotten the impression that that was rather a big deal for the demon, from a few things she'd heard from Mabel and Dipper at this point -- the whole 'safe place to sleep while un-messed-with' thing. And yet she’d seen many photos from Mabel of the two cuddled together in all sorts of places. She didn’t think a demon would simply trust someone he didn’t care about, who he knew didn't truly care about him or his own safety, to be so close to him while he was unconscious and helpless, while sleeping.

" _I know,_ " Dr. Pines gritted out, and Pacifica realized suddenly how very tense he was. How he had his hands clenched in fists in his lap… "It is an _incredibly_ dangerous situation," he told her.

At this, Pacifica couldn't help but stare. "Are you…" She had to take a moment to compose herself. "... actually _worried_ about the demon?" He wanted to kill him. So why would he be so worried about _Bill_ getting hurt by Miz? It didn't make any sense!

But to this, Dr. Pines looked her straight in the eye and told her grimly, "You have no idea what Bill Cipher can be like, when he thinks he's been betrayed."

...And _that_ rather sent to chill down her spine.

Pacifica pulled in a slow breath, then let it out just as slowly.

"You're worried about the fallout of the situation, later," Pacifica stated.

"Miz might go away," Dr. Pines told her. "But Bill… will _**not**_."

"I see," Pacifica said slowly. So they would be the ones having to deal with the fallout. Assuming that Bill survived whatever Miz threw at him, after the betrayal Dr. Pines was expecting to take place. Though that meant that Dr. Pines was absolutely certain that Bill would win such an encounter as well, and...

Wait. Pacifica had to shake her head when something clicked. "So… Bill would be quite upset when he gets betrayed. But wouldn't that mean that he really _does_ trust Miz? At least enough that he… wants to pretend she’s his sister? Like, he cared enough about her for this?"

"No," Dr. Pines told her, adjusting his glasses. "Bill is a demon. He exhibits demon behavior. 'Betrayal' for them is just another word for 'let's change the way we've been playing with each other up 'til now, to a full on physical fight instead'. The only question is, would she be playing by the rules that _he_ likes to play by or not, which would generally involve at least a few seconds notice of the 'relationship-game' being off, before turning around and trying to kill each other again thereafter. --They all have their own rules that they play by, and life is a _game_ to them. And they don't live and die by them, either. Even their own lives are worthless to them. Largely _because they don't **stay dead**_ ," Dr. Pines told her heavily, looking both tense and frustrated in the extreme.

...And with that, Pacifica started to truly understand the real scope of the problem.

And the next words out of her mouth were, "Is this why Mr. Pines is trying to--" But she had to cut herself off at the confused and startled look that Dr. Pines gave her almost immediately.

"What?" Dr. Pines said, when she didn't continue. Then he frowned slightly. "You… think he _wants_ to… set up Bill to be betrayed by another demon? On _purpose?_ " he ended, to Pacifica's both shock and disbelief.

...well, at least he looked absolutely incredulous at the thought. Pacifica shook her head at him. "Apologies. I misspoke," she told him, not wanting to get into some things that she had a feeling really _should_ stay a conversation between strictly herself and Mr. Pines only. Because if that conniving old con man was trying to do what she _thought_ he was trying to do...

Dr. Pines frowned at her.

"Perhaps the niblings haven't told you," the man told her. "But I believe that you should know. Stan has made it very clear, both to Bill and the rest of us, that he _doesn't_ want Bill to be talking with any other demons, for a multitude of reasons."

Pacifica frowned. "And… he’s okay with Miz, why?"

Dr. Pines let out a sigh of frustration. "Apparently," he began, "Miz does not 'count' in this respect, given that she apparently, _supposedly_ started out as a human being in the first place. And because she tends to spend a great deal of her time in human form in general on the whole, as well."

"...and Stan knew this to begin with, back when he first met her?" Pacifica clarified.

Ford paused. "...No," he said. Stan hadn’t been told that Miz had used to be human at first, when the man-eater had first come to their dimension, _or_ this second time, and... He simply _hadn't_. ...Had he? --Yes, Bill had stated there was a demon who used to be human that he was talking to on his blog, but Bill hadn’t named explicitly who that demon was at the time...

...to the rest of them. In the kitchen. When it had first come up, because Stan had brought it up.

But Stan had been talking to Bill quite a lot when none of them were able to hear either of them, or anything at all of what they were saying.

And the rest of them had thought Miz was simply a dragon, from her first visit. They hadn’t known she thought she was another Bill Cipher, and therefore a demon, until she’d essentially told them all _this_ time around--

...why did she tell them? If Miz had wanted to manipulate them all and get their sympathy, outing herself as demon wasn’t the way to go about it--

Ford felt his head throb, at the ache forming. None of this made any sense.

...Had _Bill_ known she was another Bill before this? He hadn't been surprised at the information out in the forest. But when had Bill learned of this himself?

"I…" Ford said, before trailing off again. "I don't… know," he eventually had to admit to her. "I'm not certain when Stanley found out that information." It still made him dizzy almost to think about it, that time when he'd collapsed in the forest, but… The demons had said something of what had happened to Stan at the time when Stan had come to pick him up, to retrieve him, hadn't they? And Stan hadn't seemed... he'd seemed to know what they were talking about at the time. (So that meant that he must have known that much, for at least as long as…)

"That would be a question for Stan himself," he had to tell her.

"Fine," Pacifica said. "I'll ask Mabel to ask him for me, and get back to me via text message." To her, that seemed rather pertinent actually. How long Mr. Pines had been encouraging them to act like siblings versus when he'd found out that they were supposedly both the same demon, almost (which still didn’t make much sense to her, what did that even mean? That they were both Bill Cipher?), seemed very relevant to know under the circumstances to her. "So, just to make sure I understand the situation," Pacifica began to summarize, "Both Bill and Miz are 'Bill Cipher' type demons, but being the same type of demon has no impact on their ability to empathize, or rather, their lack of empathy, with themselves or each other or anyone else. Is that correct?"

And _that_ for some reason made Dr. Pines’s eyes go wide as a look of startled realization swept across his face. "A Bill Cipher type demon…" he breathed out, then looked even more horrified for some reason. "Oh. Oh _no_. --Stan, what are you trying to do…" he said next, looking downright scared and almost sick.

Pacifica felt a bit on eggshells over his reaction. "...That isn't the type of demon they are?" she asked him slowly.

But to this, Dr. Pines simply dropped his head into his hands, and let out a groan of some sort of despair.

Pacifica let out a breath, and tried again. "You said Miz claimed to have become a Bill Cipher demon, after having used to be human, right?" Had she misunderstood him in some way? What was she not getting, here?

"He's trying to use _her_ to get _him_ to understand people," Dr. Pines said, muffled through his hands. "That knucklehead. That-- that _foolish_ \--"

Pacifica lost track of the rest of what he was saying as it descended down into an unintelligible mutter.

Fine. She'd just have to approach this another way. "What type of demon is Bill?" she asked him.

There was a long silence, during which she felt rather impatient. But eventually, Dr. Pines slowly straightened up again, and finally answered her question with…

"Not a demon from the Outside," she was told, as Dr. Pines scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked truly awful at this point. "Not an Outsider, nor a Traveler. Just a…" He let out a tired and almost horrible sounding laugh, " _Just_ a dream demon. A triangle demon. One who may have used to be an actual person at some point, however awful." He slowly opened his eyes to look at her. "But not human," he told her. "Never human."

"No matter what his body looks like right now," Pacifica finished for him.

"Yes," Dr. Pines confirmed to her rather tiredly.

"And what type of demon is Miz?" Pacifica asked him next.

"She calls herself a 'pillar' of some sort, apparently," Dr. Pines told her. "Something of a self-styled local demigod, of whatever 'dimensional set' from which she hails. Which is pure nonsense," the man told her. "Even Bill never puts on such airs." He sighed. "Stanley calls her a 'dragon-lady' half the time; I call her a man-eater -- and rightfully so, because she is one," he told her. "She's not contested either designation for their accuracy -- likely because she _can't_ \-- and she goes by several more names than 'just' Miz. She has several forms and gives them all different names," he huffed out. "Which just goes to show that she’s used to ‘pretending’ to be something else."

*Something of a changeling, then," Pacifica said 

"No," Dr. Pines told her, frowning. "I told you, she is a _demon_. Changelings are entirely different -- rather, they are a type of somnambulant _faerie_ , commonly of the Sidhe variety, that are generally--"

"--Right, sorry, my mistake. I misspoke!" Pacifica said quickly, recognizing the telltale signs of a subject matter expert trying to correct a novice's understanding of something inside in their chosen field. "But like, a type of creature who changes who and what they are, is what I meant. She's something like that?"

"Technically, all demons are," Dr. Pines confirmed, with a nod. "Though usually they have to die before picking another form. --Bill is different, because he himself exists largely in the Mindscape; as does Miz. They are able to create physical bodies for themselves of any shape, form, or type, once their Mental selves are fully physically located within a given dimension," he told her. "And they are both physically here, within our dimension, right now. The events of Weirdmageddon occurred because Bill had finally gained access to our dimension, and was able to physically travel into it, to arrive here and then," Dr. Pines grimaced, "And _'party'_ with his Henchmaniac 'friends', to the detriment and destruction of the rest of us all."

Pacifica allowed this to sink in and nodded. "Alright. So they’re Mindscape demons?" She’d heard about the Mindscape from the twins, a little bit, at least. Considering Dipper had been stuck in it when Bill had stolen his body last summer.

"That's--" Dr. Pines grimaced again. "They don't classify themselves that way," he told her. "And neither of them started out their lives in the Mindscape. So that's not quite an entirely accurate description of them."

"...and how do they not count as Bill Cipher demons? Since Miz did, according to you, classify herself as a Bill Cipher?" Pacifica asked next, still wanting to get a proper answer to this particular topic.

"'Bill Cipher' is a… 'dimensional username', of a sort," he told her. "And demons have a singular name, that no-one else is allowed to have," Dr. Pines told her. "If someone does have the unfortunate luck to have the same name as a demon, for whatever reason, then that demon will generally show up to kill them in short order," he told her. Then he sighed. "Yet, Bill and the man-eater apparently both hold the name 'Bill Cipher'. And Bill has made it clear since then that he doesn’t kill the other demons who share his name, and that he has no inclination or reason to do so -- rather the opposite, apparently," he told her with a frown. Then he paused before adding, "And the man-eater is going by names other than 'Bill' in her current form, at the very least to avoid confusion here in the interim."

Pacifica thought about it. "So… Miz’s real name is Bill Cipher? Was that her name when she was human? Or did it become her name when she became a demon?"

Ford paused. "I… don’t know for certain. I admit I haven’t really talked to the man-eater. I could probably ask Stanley about that for you, though. Once I learn of it, I can have Dipper or Mabel relay the information to you, later," he offered.

Pacifica nodded at that answer before she moved onto her next question. "So, aside from your worry over Miz’s eventual betrayal, what’s the issue with the two of them playing at ‘siblings’ with each other?"

"...It's rather disturbing to watch, knowing what is going to happen when the act is finally dropped," Ford admitted to her.

Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "So it’s not real. And you know it’s not real, and it makes you uncomfortable," she deadpanned, even as he frowned at her furiously. "I get the whole, betrayal and fall out thing, but why put in the energy and effort of being upset over it?" Was he really so petty that he just didn't like seeing the demons cozy up to each other? If that was _really_ the reason for Dr. Pines’ objection to the idea of the demons being together, well...

...that was just stupid to let them know. For all any of them knew, the demons might keep on doing it, just to mess with him. Because if this whole thing was going to blow up in their faces sooner or later, and 'later' would potentially mean a worse blow-up from their local Bill Cipher, according to Dr. Pines himself...

"Bill shouldn’t be pretending to care about others!" Ford insisted.

And that made Pacifica have to take a breath and look away for a second. "Shouldn’t? --So, what are you saying here? Are you saying Bill ‘should’ act more like a ‘demon’ and simply not care about anyone at all?" It almost sounded like… Dr. Pines was upset that Bill wasn’t… conforming to demon behavior like Dr. Pines… wanted him to? Because, if that was really what was happening here...

"He's lying!" Dr. Pines told her hotly, surprising Pacifica. "Demons do not have relationships like that! They do not care about anyone but themselves! --I've already explained this to you; it's a trap."

Pacifica rubbed at her temples. "But if we know that's what he's doing, then we can't fall for it completely. We won't be caught completely off-guard, and we _can_ account for it." She'd managed that with plenty of 'sharks' before, certainly; and for all of the rest of them not being exposed to this daily, they could simply carry on with... Yet for some reason, the man was shaking his head. "Why is this a problem? Why are you…" Pacifica held back an eyeroll. "Are you _really_ upset that Bill isn't being _honest_ with you??" She couldn't quite stop the incredulous tone. Seriously? This was… petty entitlement in the highest sense of the term. Dr. Pines was upset that Bill, the crazy psychopath demon, wasn't being HONEST with him???

" _Yes!!_ " Ford told her in pure frustration, and he couldn't understand why she was _looking_ at him like that.

\---

Pacifica could hardly believe what she was hearing here. "Are you _seriously_ expecting the demon to be honest with you?" _Really?_ What in the world--?!

"No!" the man said with a grimace, and he looked… more than a little uncomfortable as he said it.

Pacifica frowned at him. "Then what _do_ you expect out of him?" she asked. She’d rather thought that the whole point of what had gone wrong between him and the demon the first time had, had to do with the demon lying to him about things. (What, exactly, Dipper and Mabel had not exactly been clear on, but… what with the way the man almost constantly said that the demon couldn’t be trusted… Pacifica had rather thought that the man knew better than that.)

"I--" Dr. Pines looked even more uncomfortable, almost twisting the cloth of his pants under his fists as he kept silent for several long moment, then _finally_ said -- blurted out, really -- "I can tell when Bill is lying, but when he’s lying to _himself_ and doesn’t _know_ it--" The man cut himself off at the end there, took his glasses off, and shook his head as he rubbed a hand over his face, and Pacifica stared at him with a slight thinking frown as he did so. (Frankly, she couldn’t help it.)

And it occurred to her then, why Old Man McGucket had called Dr. Pines _compromised_. What he’d meant, when he’d muttered out darkly that Dr. Pines still _listened_ to the demon.

Objectivity. It was a problem that was encountered quite frequently in the world of the rich, grossly wealthy, and highly successful. The losers -- the _biggest_ of losers -- fell for the oldest trap in the book: letting themselves be convinced by some random person with a drive and a dream and a vision... and _no real plan_ behind it. Someone utterly convinced of the truth of some investment… that was absolute and utter garbage.

If you listened to the sheep, you risked becoming one of them. And a shark was one thing, but to tell the difference between someone who was blinded by lies and someone who actually knew what they were talking about? _That_ was far harder.

Oh, it was quite clear to Pacifica now exactly what problem Dr. Pines was currently facing here with this demon. He was feeling threatened by the fact that the demon, _and his own brother_ , seemed to believe that the things they were seeing were different than Dr. Pines himself believed them to be, with Miz. He was worried that his brother _seemed_ to be falling for some lies from Miz, but he was also _at least_ as worried that Bill Cipher actually, actively _believed_ those 'lies' himself, and that the demon was acting accordingly.

And it was also quite clear to Pacifica now, upon realizing this, that Dr. Pines had never _stopped_ listening to the demon that he’d been trying to kill. He’d been using the demon as his own barometer for _something_ , some check on his own view of reality, somehow. And that was… terrible. Because the demon was absolutely insane. _All of them knew that._ They all knew that. _Dr. Pines_ knew that. And yet...

Dr. Pines was _horribly_ compromised in the extreme, when it came to Bill Cipher. Old Man McGucket had been right; more right than, perhaps, even the old man himself knew.

She was going to have to be _very_ careful from now on, in the future, when dealing with Dr. Pines because of this, now that she knew what she was dealing with, here. She could take it into account, yes, but it would make things _so_ much harder, and...

And Pacifica let out a sigh as she also realized she would have to talk to the other old man, Stan Pines, to get _his_ side of the story, next. One that would be hopefully less biased. She _really_ disliked talking with the old con man, though. He and her family had never really gotten along, ever. And she didn’t like to think of whether or not anything she asked him about would result in an actually _truthful_ answer out of him, instead of the usual insults she was used to from him at this point.

That said...

"You really shouldn’t be counting on the _insane_ demon to let you know what is real and what isn’t," Pacifica noted rather dryly. This wasn't something she'd keep to herself, if there was any chance at all that he might listen to her.

"If Bill Cipher’s grasp on reality _wasn’t_ as strong as it is," Dr. Pines informed her, just as dryly, and perhaps both a little wryly and darkly as well, as he put his glasses back on, "Then he would have been taken care of by all of the other demons out there, long ago."

...Aaaand now the man was practically throwing out _compliments_ to the demon, apparently. (She was starting to see why the demon might want to keep him around.) Pacifica pinched the bridge of her nose and took a few shallow breaths. Calm… calm… don't blow up at the idiot in front of her. "Look," she leveled with him, "Subconscious-whatever or not, we can all just remind ourselves and each other, not to fall for either of their little ‘look at me, I’m a human!’ acts--"

"--But Stanley _is_ falling for it!" Dr. Pines said, looking almost sick with worry at this point. "Or-- he _seems_ to be," he said, taking a step back from what he'd just said, shaking his head and grimacing. "He’s said that he thinks the man-eater should get a therapist to 'help' her get over her _supposed_ trauma -- as if demons could ever feel _trauma_ over **any** sort of circumstance of death, or anything _else_ that either happens to them, or they do to themselves," he muttered out, to an eyebrow raise from Pacifica. "He even went along with her _apparent_ fear of cars to such an extent that he had us _walk into town_ with her, instead of just taking the car and letting her fly along above, like he did that other trip--"

... _Other_ trip? Pacifica had a full-blown headache going now. Exactly _what_ had been going on over there at that hovel? Though she supposed that answered her question somewhat, as to who exactly had visited the diner that day…

"So what you are telling me is that you're angry that your brother is pretending to respect the girl-demon’s stated boundaries and playing along with her game, to not give her an excuse to pretend to get upset over all of it -- presuming that she’s lying and doesn’t actually need to be given the common respect of some sort of courtesy that you’d give to any other person," she stated to him outright and drolly. Seriously, she was starting to think Dr. Pines' feelings towards demons were blinding him to everything else--

"Demons don't deserve respect! They're _demons!_ They’re not _people_!" Dr. Pines had his fists clenched in his lap and was shaking in place, looking absolutely irate. And Pacifica's eyes went wide as she straightened slightly in place. She stared at him and things were starting to connect together quickly in her head, as she realized that--

"Did you…" She had to pause for a moment. "Do the demons know that _that's_ how you feel… about them?" Pacifica asked him, feeling vaguely horrified.

Dr. Pines let out a huff, as if irritated by the very question. "Of course! I've made it _very_ clear that I--"

...well shit.

Pacifica wanted to scream. How was this… _man_ so… _**stupid?!**_ Telling the demons to their faces that they didn’t deserve any sort of respect because they were _demons?_ That was flat-out racism of the lowest of forms! Pacifica admittedly did not and could not consider herself an expert on demons or demon behavior, but the idea that anyone -- let alone a demon -- would put up with such a clear disregard for… that… To treat them with _that_ level of disrespect was just…

Pacifica couldn’t imagine that _anyone_ would be willing to put up with that, demon or not. Certainly not without getting even over it. --And if she was right, and the demon had quite literally rearranged her father’s face for trying to act as though he was anywhere _close_ to his same level... being considered _equal_ would likely be bad enough, but to think of them as _lesser?_ that would be _even worse_ , and...

....and Miz seemed to be the far more human-like of the two of those demons. If Miz might still react to some things as a human would…

If anyone had told _Pacifica_ to her face that they didn't think she was a person deserving of respect--

It was no small _wonder_ that Miz didn't like him!

\--Hell, the twins had told her that they didn’t think Miz would mess with anyone who didn't mess with her first, hadn’t they? But if Dr. Pines had really, truly, _actually_ told her this, in this way, _to her face_ , that he didn't think she was a person...?!

"-- _How are you still alive?_ " The question came out in a huff as Pacifica stared up at Dr. Pines in horror. Because the crazy triangle had rearranged her dad's face just for offering to join him, asking for a subordinate position to him (a high subordinate position yes, but one that was _clearly_ subordinate to him), and--

"Tenacity and-- ah," Dr. Pines looked confused at her own confusion, adjusting his glasses as he looked at her. "My health is fine?"

...That did _not_ answer her question. "I mean, how have the demons not killed you yet for disrespecting them so openly?" Pacifica restated. Because she had no idea how he hadn’t been torn apart by them by now, or--

"They--" Dr. Pines seemed to falter for a moment, before he straightened in his chair and told her, "There are things worse than death. Losing my family is one of them," he told her grimly, "And Bill knows it. ...And for whatever reason, the demons are playing along with Stanley’s agreement, currently." He let out a frustrated sigh. "And Stan has put me on this ‘priority list’ of his, that he worked out with Bill, against my own wishes to that effect." He grimaced. (He didn’t want or need that-- but Stan just kept giving in and--)

Pacifica stared. "Agreement? What agreement? And what _priority list?_ " Pacifica demanded out of him. And what did this have to do with… the Pines potentially _dying_ , apparently? --Why did _no-one_ **tell** her these things?!

Ford groaned. "Stanley's made some sort of an agreement with Bill. There’s a non-aggression component to it. Bill is not to attack anyone who does not attack him first, and is to stop attacking anyone if they stop attacking _him_... once some indeterminate time has passed… if Bill hasn't _already_ killed them first, for trying to kill him in-turn," he told her with a grimace. "There is also a protective component to it; the ‘priority list’ is a list of people that Stan wants Bill to actively protect and not harm, most of whom are considered an active part of the agreement. Dipper and Mabel are first on this priority list. And Stanley recently put me on it too." And Ford was very ~~scared-- frustrated-- disgruntled-- resigned--~~ unhappy about this, still. --And for good reason!

"So… Stan made the demons agree to not harm anyone," Pacifica stated, feeling incredibly frustrated. Because that was some pretty important information right there, that _none_ of them had let her know! --How exactly had the old con-man managed that? (Could she get herself and her parents on that list? Even if it was only a temporary thing? ~~And why did Dr. Pines _not_ want to be on it?~~ Because even gaining herself a little more genuine breathing room for herself, as she worked on all of this, would be--)

Ford let out a huff of breath. "Stan didn't _make_ them agree to that! _No-one_ can **make** Bill Cipher **do** _anything!_ He… he simply _asked_ them to, _apparently_ ," though _how_ Stan had managed this feat, Ford _still_ hadn’t a clue. --It could not _possibly_ have been as simple as Stanley had put it. "And for some reason they are both going along with it, yes! _For the moment!_ " Ford stressed to her. "--But these demons are billions of years old; Bill himself is over one trillion, at this point. Bill lied to me for _years_ before showing me his true colors. --We need a _permanent_ solution, not one that will last nowhere close to anyone’s lifetimes," he told her -- while trying desperately not to think about what Bill had said about _rolling back time_ , about being able to _bring them all back_ \-- "And _Stan has no control over them!_ They could just break the agreement _at any time!_ \--It’s not even a Deal, with any consequences at all attached to breaking it! There's absolutely _nothing_ forcing either of them to keep it!" he cried out in frustration, trying to will her ~~someone, _anyone_~~ to understand him. "They might be following it _now_ , but there's nothing holding them to it, quite _literally!_ \--Do you understand me? Stan _can't_ control them, and the man-eater isn't even a part of this agreement of his!"

Pacifica tried not to grit her teeth. Dr. Pines had said rather the _opposite_ before, a few short weeks ago, when he’d come outside to tell the rest of them that it was something of a ‘false false alarm’ and okay to disperse. Not to belabor the obvious, but she’d noted at the time how very hard he’d been trying not to display nervousness when he’d been doing it. --That man! ‘There’s nothing to fear, Stan has everything under control’, her foot! She’d been _wondering_ when the truth would finally come out! Luckily, she hadn’t believed him at the time, for even a second! That was why she’d been working on all of this from day one! (She just hadn’t been _stupid_ enough to say so at the time; she’d made like she was going along with it, like the rest of them.)

That said…

"Wait." Pacfica held up a hand. "You’re telling me that the demons are agreeing to not hurt anyone, on their own, because Stan Pines asked them to and they _chose_ to agree to his terms? And they are continuing to hold to this agreement of his that he worked out with them, out of their own free will?" Because while the man clearly believed the opposite, and had since day one...

"That he worked out with _Bill_ ," Ford corrected, "But, yes! That is an accurate summary of the situation _at present_ , but there's _no_ telling when they will simply change their minds and kill us all, once they're finished playing whatever game they have going here! And that _will_ happen, whether it’s a day, a month, or a year from now! _Because that’s what demons **do!**_ " he told her, in further frustration, because _why_ did no-one seem to be listening to him about this?! Why was no-one taking his dire and quite serious warnings even a little bit seriously!?

...So wait, Mr. Pines might actually be able to hold off these demons from doing anything for _a year?!_ She’d thought they might have anywhere from another hour to a week, at best! (Frankly, she’d been waking up every morning, wondering why the sky hadn’t broken itself open again yet.)

"Okay," Pacifica said to him. "So what is making them want to keep 'playing this game' that is stopping them from killing us all?" Pacifica asked him. Because if there was something that she could make sure not to disrupt, that would have them going for that _year_ instead -- or, even better, something that she could help _enhance_...

Ford slumped in his seat. _Why_ had she had to ask him the one question that... " _I don't know._ " Ford admitted. "I don't know why the demons are going along with this. ...This _isn’t_ the sort of ‘game’ that Bill usually likes to play." And it _scared_ him that Bill might have, at some point, started to get a taste for it. For _this_ sort of-- He stifled a shudder, as he ran a hand across his face. "Stan claims it’s because he treats them like _people_ and asked them to do so _nicely_. But that's _beyond_ ridiculous. Demons _aren't_ people and there's no reason to treat then as such. If you could _reason_ with a demon, they wouldn't be so dangerous!" he told her, dropping his hand to stare at her, almost imploringly, wanting her ~~someone in this dimension~~ to just, and so simply, _understand_.

Pacifica, however, was instead struck with the rather distressing thought that Stanford Pines, the ‘smart’ twin, was an utter idiot. How was finding that out _not_ the man’s top priority? They _all_ needed the time to be able to come up with something effective to use against the demon. How was getting himself -- and all the rest of them -- _more time_ in which to work and live normally **not** something that he was working on, night and day, to acquire?

And then Pacifica was struck with another thought entirely. Back when Bill had first shown up last summer and started making trouble, all the townsfolk had immediately turned hostile to him as an ‘outsider’ and a, well, a _jerk_ really -- who declared themselves anyone’s ‘lord and master for all eternity’?? -- and had promptly told him to _get out_. Which, of course, had not worked.

...Well, Pacifica was sure that asking Bill 'nicely' to _leave_ wouldn't have worked either, but perhaps if they had been more polite, maybe _negotiations_ could have actually been opened. Her father had been rather assuming and forceful, but Stan Pines had managed to make this ‘agreement’ with Bill, _whatever_ it truly was, and _that_ meant that there _had_ to be some negotiating room to be had.

Unless…

"Dr. Pines," she asked him slowly. "Is Bill currently capable of starting another Weirdmageddon? --Assuming that we didn’t interfere with some plan of his to do it?"

"At this point, I don’t doubt that if he wanted to, he could, even if we tried to stop him," was Dr. Pines’ dark response.

"You’re sure," Pacifica asked him. "You have proof of this?"

"He hasn’t talked to that effect," Dr. Pines told her, "Not quite. But Bill clearly believes it. Stan believes it. And I’ve seen Bill do things in the meantime that indicate that he very likely could do just that, _without_ even taking Miz’s potential interference into account, whichever way that might end up falling," he told her.

...Right. So, the only thing holding the demon back right now really was whatever hold that Mr. Pines had over him, that he hadn’t even told his own brother about. _Great._

But that _did_ mean that there _was_ some negotiating room to be had. The demon wasn’t just not taking over the town against because he _couldn’t_ \-- he absolutely _could_ , as confirmed by the demon expert’s own knowledge of the situation.

"That anchor Stan has isn’t enough to stop Bill from doing anything, not really," Dr. Pines told her. (Anchor? What anchor?) "It may allow Stan to ‘hold’ Bill’s Weirdness at bay, but Bill has magic, science, and his own vast knowledge at his disposal, still." (What _else_ hadn’t the twins told her about?) "And--"

"-- _What anchor?_ " Pacifica demanded from him next. Because _weirdness?_ Not ‘just’ magic?? _What???_

"Stan has some ‘anchor’ to Bill, or vice-versa," Dr. Pines told her. "Bill claims that it is _nothing_ like a binding, and… frankly, I don’t know _what_ exactly it is. I’d never even _heard_ of such a thing, before. Not before it came up, with Bill, now. I don’t even know where it came from, or how Stan got it. All I can tell you for now is that this anchor, whatever it may be, is something that connects them both to each other, and it somehow grants Stan the ability to prevent Bill from using his Weirdness abilities and powers. And Stan can give him control back at any time."

"Which means that if the demon manages to convince him to do that…" Pacifica said slowly.

Dr. Pines nodded at her.

Pacifica let out a slow breath. Yes, she got the picture, and it looked grim. ...She was also now starting to realize why Dr. Pines was so completely freaked out at the thought that his brother might be willing to ‘go along with’ a made-up sob story of Miz's, even just a little. It was because of the idea that, if _Bill_ told enough of a tall tale, would Mr. Pines go along with it, even if it meant giving the demon back his powers? --Pacifica didn’t think so, but Dr. Pines clearly wasn’t so sure where that line was drawn for his brother, not anymore.

"What else do we all need to know about this anchor, that you haven’t told me yet?" Pacifica asked him next, because the man did look like he was holding _something_ back, and the man grimaced.

"Stanley won’t let me look at it." Ford frowned. "He keeps insisting that it’s not important. But I need to examine it. If I could, then maybe then I could understand it, perhaps replicate it so that other people could ‘hold’ Bill’s powers down, as well. Maybe even strengthen or enhance the anchor further..." It would certainly make him feel better, knowing that more than one person held the anchor over Bill’s powers. ~~If he had a hold of it, he would _never_ let Bill’s powers go. Never. And then--~~

"Enhance it?" Pacifica echoed. "Could you use it to stop him from using his magic powers, too?" she asked him, and the man blinked at her.

"I…" Pacifica watched as the man paused in almost the same way as he had before, when she’d brought up the subject of ‘using’ the fact that Bill was a different ‘not-outsider’ demon somehow against said demon. "...I suppose I could theoretically use an anchor of a different type to suppress Bill’s magic, as well," Dr. Pines told her slowly. "If I can figure out how the original anchor was done and put in place, and how to reproduce it, then that is perhaps within the realm of possibility. But we already _have_ two working methods for doing that," he told her.

"What?" This was news to her. "We do?"

"Yes," Dr. Pines told her, adjusting his glasses. "The Mystic Barrier spell, which I will teach you how to create, and the anti-magic cuffs, which I know how to make, but... --They do _not_ work together as-intended," he added with a grimace. "I don’t have any with me to show you today, but any anti-magic cuffs, when worn, will cancel out the barrier spell while the wearer is underneath it; whenever Stan gives him _any_ reign with his Weirdness powers, he can simply slip out of a pair of those locked cuffs with impunity. And with that cybernetic suit that he’s now wearing, he doesn’t even need that much from Stan. That suit that he's wearing has built-in strength enhancements; he could lift a truck with that."

...Right. "I’ve seen the cuffs, Mabel and Dipper brought them over for McGucket to mess with." Pacifica told him, as the man blinked at her (not realizing that he’d been talking about the heavy, stuck-closed, explosive-filled cuffs he’d originally made for Bill -- not the lighter, easily-opened, explosive-free bracelets McGucket had been given, that Bill had made out of those cuffs for Miz). "So what we’re working with here is things that don’t work, but they’re workable."

"...Yes," Dr. Pines said to her. "I suppose that’s one way to put it. Except that nothing but killing him is anything like ‘workable’, in terms of a true working solution."

"And what’s going to stop him from just coming back like he did this time?" Pacifica deadpanned, waiting for him to tell her otherwise.

"You’ve been talking with Stanley," Dr. Pines said to her grimly.

...No, she just had a brain that worked when she used it, and she used it frequently. Like, all the time. She was blonde; she wasn’t stupid. If Bill had returned once, then there was a high chance he’d just come back again when and if they managed to all band together and kill him again a second time. (...And she’d been waiting for him to say ‘the circle will work to do that’, so that she could ask him how he was so sure about that. But the fact that he hadn’t even done _that_ was telling. Because that meant that...)

"I’ve been _talking_ with _you_ ," she told him dryly. " _You’re_ the one that told us he was back." He’d had them called up, to come over to the Mystery Shack in the first place, at the beginning of this whole new mess.

"...Right," Dr. Pines said, grimacing again, and Pacifica sighed.

"So, Stan isn’t letting you look at this anchor thing. Even though it’s… visible, or something? Why not?" Pacifica asked, getting back to the main subject at hand. That didn’t make sense. Why would the old man be trying to keep this to himself? Was that part of his agreement with Bill? Mr. Pines would keep information on the anchor and how to use it from being spread around, in exchange for Bill behaving himself? ...Perhaps. It almost sounded reasonable. ...But the demon was anything but. Maybe if the demon wasn’t completely insane, that might actually be a thing, but Pacifica wasn’t so sure about that one. ...Yet another question for the old man when Pacifica got to talk to him. Ugh.

Ford groaned. "It’s visible down Bill’s back, apparently. And I don’t know why he won’t let me do that, let alone help me with it. Stan keeps changing the subject whenever I bring it up, or pretending it’s not a big deal -- even though it absolutely and definitely _is_ that very thing," he told her sourly.

Pacifica nodded to show that she understood: this avenue was a dead end for now, unless and until Stan Pines (or the demon?) was willing to share. (Frankly, she was more surprised that that old con man hadn’t seemingly used this as an angle to get the demon to do things for him outright. ...Unless getting the demon not to hurt the family that had already killed him once was already enough of a stretch.)

...Why _was_ the old con man being so resistant to getting rid of the demon, here and now, anyway? --Sure, the Pines hadn’t managed to kill him permanently the first time, but they hadn’t actually tried that Circle-thing properly with the rest of them yet, and...

Pacifica thought back to that first day when Bill returned, and how Stan hadn’t even come outside to get ready do that holding-hands circle-thing with them. How she’d found out later from the twins that Stan had apparently taken Bill in, not just imprisoned him in the Mystery Shack somehow.

And she wondered if maybe _that_ was how Stan had opened the door for negotiations. She’d heard from the twins that the demon had been in bad shape at the start of it all, that Dr. Pines had done a number on him in the woods. But Mr. Pines apparently hadn't immediately treated Bill as a threat to be rejected, attacked, or destroyed -- he’d sequestered Bill away from the rest of them for several days, away from the potential of another immediate attack, and had instead fed, watered, and sheltered the demon over those days. Had that contributed to how this agreement had come about, as well?

They _must_ have talked at least somewhat during that time, and Dr. Pines didn’t know the first thing about this anchor, almost. Was it possible that Stan Pines _did?_ Could the old con man have _made_ the demon do this anchor-thing, in addition to the agreement, as one of those missing ‘consequences’ that Dr. Pines was so adamant were missing from the current situation, while the demon had been at some sort of marked disadvantage relative to them, during those first few days?

"Just to be clear, though," Pacifica noted, looking for confirmation. "Right now, as long as the demons _are_ holding to this agreement of Mr. Pines’, the demons are essentially harmless. For now." Pacifica hoped that was what this meant. That, so long as their ‘game’ with Stan Pines was going on -- whatever ‘game’ that might be -- they would hold to Stan’s agreement and not harm anyone. Which was, y’know, good.

"Hardly," Ford told her. "To think of either of them as ever being ‘harmless’ is just--" He cut himself off and grimaced, as the Northwest girl gave him a _look_. "Bill is dangerous as long as he is able to speak to or otherwise communicate with others," he told her grimly. "Even if we managed to ‘disarm’ him of his powers, he has and will always be dangerous. Bill was unable to impact this dimension physically in any meaningful way for all but up until last summer, less than a handful of _months_ ago," he told her. "His ‘bread and butter’, as it were, is in getting people to do things _for_ him, in exchange for _information_. --He sneaks inside your head, figures out what your hopes and dreams are, and then twists things to his advantage. He finds a way to convince you that he can get you what you want. And then he builds upon _that_."

"...But he can’t be trusted," Pacifica said slowly.

"Yes," Dr. Pines told her firmly.

Pacfica stared at him for a moment.

"...Then how does he get anything done?" she asked him slowly. "If he breaks any deals he makes, all the time, then his reputation should be nonexistent."

"You _don’t_ understand," Dr. Pines told her, and now his eyes looked dark. Pacifica had to fight leaning back in her chair, as the (now, suddenly highly dangerous-seeming) man leaned forward, and his eyes bored right into hers. "Bill treats those he considers to be his fiendish friends… _very well_."

Pacifica stared up at him.

"....I thought Mabel and Dipper said that Bill thought he was your friend," she said, rather understating the situation as she’d heard it from Dipper.

She felt another chill go down her spine, as the man’s gaze grew even darker, and he drew himself up in his chair completely, seeming to loom over her, now.

"I," Dr. Pines told her. "Am **not** Bill’s friend. I never was. The person that I thought him to be was a lie."

"...And?" Pacifica asked quietly.

And the man leaned forward even more, ever so slightly, in his chair. "And _I_ am not a sociopathic killer, who delights in torturing and killing others, while laughing hysterically about it with glee. If I wanted to kill hundreds of millions of people, and make rivers run red with blood, have no doubt that under those circumstances, I would find Bill Cipher to be a delightfully wonderful little friend to have, to help me in that endeavor. If you understand my meaning."

Pacifica tried not to break out in a cold sweat.

And she watched as Dr. Stanford Pines slowly sat back in his chair, as it creaked under him quietly, and watched as he seemed to become rather non-threatening again.

...She did _not_ have any questions anymore, as to how he might have survived anything to do with Bill Cipher. This man was dangerous. And she’d met several dangerous killers before, in the form of several bodyguards of various high-society individuals.

Ones who, frankly, wouldn’t care less if the rivers of their towns and cities ran with blood, so long as they got what they wanted out of whatever they did.

Pacifica forced herself to swallow in a mouth gone suddenly dry, to breathe like she didn’t want to get up and run, and to get back on-topic and on task like she needed to.

Because Stanford Pines did _not_ scare her. And neither did that demon. She _would_ deal with this. She _would_ fight back against him.

And she _would_ win in this fight, this time. Now that she knew what she was dealing with--

"You said that you know how to make one of these barriers that will keep Bill from hurting me or my family with magic, so long as we stay under it," Pacifica noted. "Show me how to do that."

Ford nodded at her and slowly stood up from his chair. "You have the ingredients here?"

"Yes." And Pacifica couldn’t quite keep the peevish tone out of her voice as she told him, "I _don’t_ know why you didn’t tell any of us sooner."

Ford let out a sigh, as he walked over to the table nearby after her, upon which she seemed to have spread out the various components and preparation tools necessary for the spell. (Good. He had been rather thorough in his list, but he had rather only half-expected her to be able to procure everything so quickly. Especially the unicorn hair, which should have been--)

"I didn’t keep this from you on purpose," Dr. Pines told her. "It really isn’t as useful as you might think. During Weirdmageddon, it kept Bill from being able to destroy the Shack directly using his Weirdness powers or his own two fists, but… he did get through it then, wielding a non-weirdness imbued object. And Bill can walk right through these barriers now; he’s _living_ under one currently, at the Shack. At most, this sort of barrier will suppress his Weirdness powers, if Stan lets them go unchecked and he isn’t wearing anti-magic cuffs, and stifle his magic powers somewhat, if only he doesn’t have enough time to prepare something that allows him even that ability."

"Prepare something?" Pacifica asked him, confused. _That_ sounded like-- "What has he done?"

"He’s created a ‘bubble’ inside the barrier, up in the attic of the Shack, where his own magic seems to work perfectly well -- at least as both of the niblings, and Stan, report," Dr. Pines told her, as he glanced over her arrangement of ingredients out on the table, checking them one by one -- from the looks of it, to make sure that none of the materials were fake. (As if. She’d paid good money for all of that, thank you. And people in general knew better than to try and con _her_ , let alone _any_ Northwest.) "He’s also perfectly capable of walking right up to the line of unicorn hair inside of it and cutting the line of it with a common knife," he told her next, as he looked over the moonstones. "That would bring down the barrier immediately, no matter how well you may hide the location of the anchoring moonstones."

Pacifica blinked at him, thrown for a moment by… "I thought you said you didn’t know anything about anchors," she told him.

The scientist looked up at her in confusion, and it took him a moment.

"An anchor for a spell is _not_ the same thing," Dr. Pines informed her, straightening up in place. "It's certainly not the same as whatever Bill has connecting to Stanley at present, that he is terming as such," he told her next, while adjusting his glasses and looking at her oddly. "Bill is a being of pure energy, not a spell."

"My mistake," Pacifica said, but her mind was already whirring away at this new information. Anchors were necessary for spells. But weren’t spells just some type of magical energy? Wasn’t that how the barrier worked, stopping magical energy from getting inside them? Had she misunderstood or assumed something incorrectly? ...Or had it really not occurred to the man that _any_ kind of energy might be able to be anchored down somehow, just in a different way, and he hadn’t made the connection ~~(yet?)~~ to _Bill Cipher_ being a ‘being’ (not a demon??) of _pure energy_. Because by Dr. Pines' own admission, Bill was a type of energy, too -- ‘pure’ energy, that _had_ an anchor, rather than 'magical' energy that _required_ some sort of anchor. Because Bill had an anchor himself, too.

Bill had an anchor that Dr. Pines knew about _now_ , but… Dr. Pines hadn’t even known that the _type_ of anchor Bill had now was even a _thing_ , before they'd killed the demon, he'd died, and then he'd come back again.

Had the demon had an anchor _before_ he’d died, and Dr. Pines just hadn’t known about it then?

"He also has that suit of his, now," Dr. Pines told her next, as he lifted up one vial of mercury (of the several she'd gotten, just in case the first spell batch came out wrong) and looked it over with a frown, tilting the vial left and right in front of his face while peering at it critically. "He could very easily lift a nearby car and toss it through your front window, if he so desired," the scientists told her almost absently, as he set the vial down again in its small wooden stand on the table.

...No. She was getting distracted here, and this whole anchor business wasn’t something Dr. Pines could help her with, clearly. --Best to focus on what he _could_ help her with, then.

"I still want one of these things for my house," she told him firmly. She wasn’t living in some hovel; it might not be the mansion she’d grown up in, but the place she and her parents were living in now still had gates and bars and a brick wall surrounding the place to keep out all ‘the commoners’. If the demon was going to run around tossing cars at houses, he'd have to do better than that, to break in. "Some protection against spells being tossed at me from clear across town is a _lot_ better than nothing at all," she huffed out at him. Because that was a very _different_ sort of throw, that currently she didn't know _how_ to--

"I agree," Dr. Pines told her, looking down at her, with a slight edge of amusement in his tone… and humor in his eyes. Huh? "That is why I’m here," he told her with a slight, almost rueful smile, "To help ease what worries that I can, and give you _some_ security as you might want to have, in the place where you lie down your head, to sleep. I just don’t want to give you a _false_ sense of security, Ms. Northwest," he told her, turning away from her and looking rather serious once again.

"Right," Pacifica said. She could sort of see that now from him. Kind of. "So, how hard is all this magic stuff, exactly?"

"Not too hard at all," Dr. Pines told her, with a genuine (though rather small) smile. "Frankly, I’m not entirely certain why most people simply don’t do any magic at all," he told her almost contemplatively. "Most spells don’t actually require ingredients so esoteric or difficult to acquire. It really isn't that much harder than your basic chemistry, to perform."

And with that, Pacifica got down to learning the barrier spell that would protect her parents, at least a little bit, from Dr. Stanford Pines. But no matter how much she concentrated on the matter at hand, and memorizing the procedures and wording and all the rest of it, all of her unanswered questions were still left swirling around in the back of her mind during the entire rest of the visit -- and those questions didn’t exactly go away when Dr. Pines finally left that day, after he’d taught her what she’d needed to know, and made sure that she would be able to reproduce it all on her own, correctly (which was more diligence than she’d ever gotten out of some of her bought-and-paid-for tutors, while _he’d_ done it all himself for her _for free_ ). ...Clearly, there was a _lot_ that Pacifica still needed to ask Dipper about. And Stan Pines himself, absolutely.

...though Pacifica hadn't thought that her next chance at doing that would come quite so soon...

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Jo got sick :(  
> We actually wrote a whole bunch, but they're not edited yet, and Jo needs her sleep so she doesn't get worse. So I'll be editing this chapter to add in the finished pieces once they're done.
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  I started getting sick a lot around this point. Also, super tired. We did end up adding a bit in here during the week, if I remember correctly, but we also ended up splitting things up further, too. Most of the rest of the chapters in this arc ended up split into multiple parts after this, or what I like to call _actual manageable chapter lengths_ , *lol*.
> 
> I can't really blame Mizuuma, though. If we'd gone with 5K per chapter break-points instead of 20K-40K for most, at one post per week it would've taken her four times as long to get it all out there, at least -- basically, four years or more instead of almost "just" one. Crazy, huh?
> 
> (Yes, we started writing this stuff in… god, early 2019? And started posting it all on Feb 18, 2019. Man, it's been a wild ride.)


	31. Chapter 96.2: Underneath the entire thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> I did it again, I made people upset. Why can't I just learn how to keep my stupid mouth shut?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original AN:  
> Trigger warning for mentions of child abuse
> 
> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 113 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/49289186). It was first posted on Sep 23, 2019.

\---

Mabel had asked for a sleepover and invited Grenda, Candy, and Pacifica to come. That wasn’t the problem, as Ford thought of it. The _problem_ was that Mabel had _also_ invited Miz to attend her sleepover, too.

Ford had been leery of the idea from the beginning -- given the presence of the two (supposedly both) dream demons (of a type) in the house, and the fact that the children who were coming over were planning on _staying the night_ (thus, not the sort of temptation of non-Zodiac members that Ford felt Stan should be waving under either ‘Bill Cipher’s watchful eye). But Ford had gone from great reserve to immediately trying to veto the idea completely as soon as he heard of Mabel’s plans to include Miz in said sleepover also.

But Stan (ever-unhelpful these days when it came to the demon) had pushed _for_ it, rather than against it. _"We’ll both be here and Miz will go back up to sleep with her brother. She won’t sleep in the same room as the girls."_

...And then Stan had proceeded to help Mabel and Miz convince Bill _not_ to be in the same room as the rest of the girls. ~~(As if that made it any better, taking the _one_ potentially _**maybe**_ -stabilizing influence on the other demon out of the equation completely for the night. At this point, Ford had no idea at all what Stan must be _thinking_... if he was even _thinking_ at all...)~~

\---

Mabel was super-happy that things were going according to plan. It was going to be a girl’s night tonight, so Miz actually got her brother to leave them alone for one night! _"But you’re a guy, not a girl,"_ hadn’t worked on him, since Dipper had been pulled into her sleepovers before, but Miz’s _"Unless you want to talk about squirmy feelings, boys, and listen to the lot of us screaming at decibels only dogs can hear?" and an eyebrow-raise at Bill had actually had the older demon grimacing at her and actually _agreeing(!!)_ with a: _"Fine. But if anything happens…"__

__

__

And so Mabel and the girls shut themselves in the storage room where they’d had their movie marathon before (since Mabel didn’t really want to push, or risk, what would happen if she tried to go with the whole letting-the-demons-into-their-bedroom thing for _just_ the night, especially with the way she knew Dipper and Grunkle Ford felt about it), while Dipper and Ford sat outside the room eavesdropping.

Bill himself, who _had_ planned on giving Miz at least a little more space than he was at present, was (instead of sitting in the living room chair with Stanley, or in the kitchen with a hot cup of terrible-tasting tea, watching Stanley to make sure said-Stanley really _didn’t_ end up going into that room where Miz was without _HIM_ there as well) also seated in the hallway just a small distance away from the two of _them_ , watching said Zodiac members like a hawk (or, rather, a very-protective no longer single-eyed older-brother of a triangular dream demon, with an almost-smoldering menace ~~and no small annoyance at the fact that he couldn’t just be sitting in the kitchen with his tea right now, oh _no_ , _**instead**_ he had to be sitting _HERE_ and--~~).

\---

Pacifica was going to spend the evening learning as much as she could about this new demon. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but Grenda had immediately asked Miz for the scoop on what kind of boys she liked.

"Eh… well…" Miz pressed her hands to her cheeks and wiggled in place where she was sitting. "I have a thing for cute nerds…" she admitted.

Candy and Grenda "Oooooh~!"ed while Mabel twitched a little.

Pacifica noticed Mabel's slight tension and narrowed her eyes. While Grenda and Candy teased (interrogated) Miz about her tastes, Pacifica leaned over and whispered, "What?" To which Mabel seemed to sink in on herself, looking both embarrassed and a little disturbed.

"Miz kind of liked Grunkle Ford, the way he looks? But they're _definitely_ not good for each other. Not even a little."

...And that made Pacifica wince. (Well, he _was_ the hot uncle-grunkle, but...) Well. Putting this together with everything else she'd learned, if Miz had been inclined to like Dr. Pines (though Pacifica doubted it could have been anything serious at any point) and the man had essentially treated Miz like she wasn't a person… Well, that was just another reason for more anger from the demon to add to the list; probably just made it even worse for Dr. Pines when Miz finally lost her temper. ...Each time she lost her temper.

(Ugh. She didn’t even _want_ to know how Bill Cipher himself might have responded to that whole thing, if he’d heard about it. _Not_ liking it would be bad enough; _supporting_ it would have implications that got _really_ bad _really_ fast, knowing that both demons thought of themselves as ‘Bill Cipher’ and largely the same in many respects.)

"Let’s not talk about my shit taste in men," Miz huffed out. (Pacifica suppressed a shudder and internally agreed.) "We can talk about _your_ shit taste in men instead," she ribbed to the rest of the girls in the room with her.

Candy laughed. "Ah, terrible taste. Well, there was Gabe. But I gave up on him. He would never love anyone more than his own puppets." The Korean girl nodded to herself.

"Oh yeah, you dodged a bullet with that one," Mabel agreed.

"Sucks, since he’s gorgeous," was Pacifica’s contribution, looking down at her fingernails.

"It’s always the hot ones you have to be careful with." Miz nodded sagely. "Speaking of, how’re you and Marius doing?" she asked Grenda.

The larger girl laughed. "HE’S NOT BAD. VERY NEEDY, BUT HE’S SWEET! MY TASTE IS GOOD!" The girls all coo’ed at that.

"I’m happy for you." Miz said sincerely.

"SO LIKE," Grenda finally asked, "YOU’RE LIVING AT THE SHACK? WHY? ARE YOU SOME KIND OF FAMILY FRIEND?" she asked, since Mabel hadn’t really told them much about this other girl at all, just that she’d been staying there lately.

Miz thought about it. "Not really… I’m Bill’s sister. We decided that."

Grenda and Candy both seemed confused at this. "...Decided?" Candy asked. "How does one decide to be brother and sister? [This is not how sisterhood pacts work. They are not for boys.]" Candy added in Korean. (Pacifica was paying close attention to this. She also wanted to know how demons could just decide to have a sibling.)

Miz shrugged. "I lost my family a long time ago. I found some friends who are my family now, but part of me really missed having a sibling. And, well, my friends are like siblings too, but it’s… different…" she frowned in thought. "Bill and I are…" she looked over at Mabel. "Am I allowed to talk about this?"

Pacifica side eyed Mabel. _‘Allowed?’_ she wondered.

Mabel thought about it before shrugging. "Well, it’s about stuff in this dimension, right?" Miz nodded. "Yeah, it should be fine. As long as it’s not something awful."

"I don’t think it’s awful…" Miz clenched her hands. "But apparently the knowledge of what Bill and I are to each other hurt Ford…" Miz glanced over at the door, where she knew Ford probably was. "And… I don't know if anyone else might be hurt by it?"

That made Pacifica tense a little. _What?_

Mabel grimaced. She hadn’t thought there was more to it than that, but if there was… "Then maybe you shouldn’t talk about it, then. If you think somebody else might be hurt by it."

Candy and Grenda looked at each other in confusion, but then both shrugged it off. Pacifica, for her part, glanced between them, as she drawled out, "I, for one, don’t mind knowing."

Miz sighed before leaning in to whisper quietly to Pacifica, "Well, Mabel knows _some_ of it, you can just ask her or Dipper afterwards, somewhere that Ford can’t hear you talk about it? I don't know if it would still break his brain now to hear about it." and Pacifica turned to glare lightly at Mabel. Seriously? The twins knew all about what this mysterious relationship thing was and _neither_ of them had told her yet?! She waited until Miz sat back upright, then went back to looking bored as she casually pulled out her phone to text Dipper (who currently had Mabel’s cellphone) _immediately_ on the matter -- because she was sick and tired of being left in the dark!

She sent him a [I need to ask something that supposedly might hurt Dr. Pines if he reads about it, but I need to know about something RIGHT NOW.] After a few seconds, she got a text back -- [Hang on] -- and she waited for Dipper to (presumably) move out of eyeshot of Dr. Pines for the soon to occur next text conversation, while the topic of discussion with the girls in the room with her moved onto what sort of hobbies Miz had, as the other girls tried to get to know this other person that Mabel knew better.

"Well, I like cooking, singing… gardening," Miz listed off. "Exploring and learning new things. Meeting new people. Taking care of my children. Making deals, creating new planets…" (Pacifica stared. Miz wasn’t even bragging or anything, she was just listing things off like one would list off their favorite clothing brands or something. And-- had she said ‘her _children_ ’???) "...holding a concert, shapeshifting, bothering my dad, trying out new kinds of food, messing with DNA--" Miz barely managed to hold back on mentioning her slaughter of pedophile rapists or the way she liked to mess with Federation officers. Those were probably not topics she should be telling a bunch of thirteen year olds.

"You have weird hobbies," was Candy's input. "I LIKE IT!" was Grenda’s. Miz shrugged (then blushed a bit at Grenda’s additional assessment). In fact, Miz looked quite pleasantly happy at the positive words. Pacifica took note of this. Was… was the demon really so… easily swayed by simple compliments? No wait, more to the point--

Pacifica frowned. "I thought you and Bill are orphans." Was that a lie? And if this demon had extended family in the form of _children_... she hadn’t thought of that as even a _possibility_ before, they both seemed so… --How many people might they actually be taking on as they continued their defensive offensive against Bill?

"My birth parents are dead. But Ax took me in after that. And I kinda think of him as my dad." Miz rubbed her arm. "And I'm pretty sure he cares about me. At least a little. I don't think brother believes that though. But his Ax is nothing like mine. And why would Ax take me in if he didn’t like me…" her voice got quiet towards the end. "He sings to me, sometimes."

Pacifica stared a bit. ...Well, she’d thought that at least one of the demons was insane before, but the idea of either of them considering a singing ax as a parent was… Had it been enchanted (with weirdness, or magic?) by the demon herself? How lonely had she been, to start talking to common implements as... Ugh. And she’d said that Bill had one of these axes as well--

"Ax?" Candy asked before Pacifica could. Miz nodded. "The AXOLOTL. He’s a giant god-like salamander," she explained, as if that were obvious.

"...Right," Pacifica said. Enchanted singing lizard (ew) that the demons… what, worshipped like a god? Double-ew. That… that _couldn’t_ be right. Right? Those were those… _pink_ things with those wavy head-gills, weren’t they?

And that just brought out even more questions.

Pacifica frowned. Should she… get one of those axolotl-lizards imported? And maybe see if Dr. Pines could enchant it to talk? ...Or just get Mr. Pines to do some sort of ventriloquism thing on it? Would that actually _work_ to--? But if it would, then why hadn’t Dr. Pines already tried--

Mabel bit her lip and changed the subject. "Music’s great, huh? I love singing! Especially when I can get Dipper and Grunkle Stan to sing with me." She semi-forcibly steered the conversation away to another topic. Pacifica frowned at that, but let it slide for now. They chatted about music for a bit. Miz even clarified some more about her concerts. "I've got another form called Jan, and I'm a space idol, I have a fan club and everything. It's great. I just can't let people know that I'm… me."

"Another form?" Candy said. "Is that your ultimate form, then? What do you do with your idolship and all the fans?" she added, thinking of a few music-based anime she’d sampled on the library computers lately. (Soos had gotten her hooked on a few things during Old Man McGucket’s Weirdmageddon planning that her parents had never let her watch before. She’d been sneaking anime watching ever since.)

"Well… I guess I do have my pure energy form? It’s pretty cool. And I use the money from my concerts to make donations to various charities around the multiverse to try and help out in a legal way. Apparently, just going out and giving starving people food is against the law or something, so throwing money at the soup kitchens works better." Miz grumbled. "I don’t understand laws. They’re so stupid."

"Well, if the food isn’t actually available to be bought at any price for those people, soup kitchens would be the better option…" Pacifica said with a shrug. She had heard from people who went begging for food for some poor small drought-starved African villages, or something, before. They didn’t actually come begging for money always; half the time, they came begging for the _resources_ to get food to those people... _and_ the food itself. Not money.

"I’ve got my other form, Xin, set up as a harvest god for a few planets dedicated to growing crops. One of the tenants I’ve given for my worshipers is to make sure that people get food. So they donate the extras from each harvest, generally the crops that don’t look as nice, and therefore people normally wouldn’t like to buy." Miz explained. "It’s very roundabout and it took me eons to get it all set up."

"Sounds like what my parents do with the fish we can’t sell from our mudflap factory," Pacifica noted. "It’s a great tax writeoff. Fish we couldn’t otherwise sell get salted and pickled in gigantic barrels, and donated overseas to people who don’t care about what they look or smell like who would otherwise die without food; everybody wins."

Mabel was glancing back and forth between them. "I didn’t know your parents donated stuff, Pacifica?" Mabel said uncertainly.

Pacifica grimaced, as she tucked her hair behind an ear. "Well, it may have taken a little convincing the first time…" And the second. And the third… Being good was hard. And her parents _really_ didn’t like giving handouts.

Miz raised an eyebrow. "That sucks." She sighed. "I’d like to do more for people. What’s the point of having the power to restructure the physical world when I can’t even do anything with it? But whenever I just give people stuff for free, they get all angry at me. So I just have to work around all the stupid Rules." Miz hissed. "Well, that’s why brother just wants to rewrite the rules. I don’t know if I could do that though, my dimension doesn’t work like this one."

Pacifica huffed out a breath. That seemed overly complicated. "Buying enough politicians to the point of rewriting the laws is the hard way around," she told Miz, because that seemed _completely_ unreasonable to her.

"Eh… I’ve been slowly working through some deals to manipulate the seats of the council for the Federation." Miz pointed out.

"Seriously, it’s not worth it, _believe_ me. My family would own half the government by now if it was," Pacifica told her with an eyeroll. "Just bribe a few local officials to look the other way while you do what you want wherever you want. Or…" Pacifica frowned. "You said you like messing with DNA, right?" Pacifica tried to confirm. "There are people in the Middle East here who are working on things like wheat that can grow in the desert. Why can’t you do something like that?" Hadn’t Dipper texted her about the plant stuff from the first time she’d been there? And if she was already scamming people into believing that she was some sort of self-styled ‘harvest god’, then...

"Yeah? I’ve done that. The people told me I ‘cursed their lands’ and burned the fields." Miz shrugged. "But when I pretended to be a dragon and boosted their crops, they started worshipping me. So… like… I kinda realized that I just had to lie and be what they would want to listen to."

"Wait, how’d they know it was you the first time?" Pacifica said.

"I was there in my triangle form, fixing up their dying crops, they’d had a drought." Miz blinked. "So I made it rain and revitalized the land. And they got mad at me."

"Well, there’s your problem then," Pacifica told her, because yeah, getting proper credit for _anything_ took effort, but if this demon cared more about getting the food out there than getting the credit for it -- and she might, if she was okay with pretending to be other people to get it done... "Just don’t let anybody see you when you’re doing stuff. Have a bunch of crops or whatever show up overnight, growing everyplace."

"I could…" Miz considered it. "I could go around and just… fix things without anyone knowing. Then there’s no way Time Baby can complain to me about it!"

"Well, yes," Pacifica told her. "That’s rather the point." She looked over her (glove-covered) fingernails. "It’s getting good PR without actually doing anything helpful that takes skill. Just going out and doing work just takes… _work_."

"Aw, Pacifica," Mabel said, "You softie!"

"--What??" Pacifica sputtered, looking over at her, then let out a huff and waved it off, saying, "It’s just from one good businesswoman to another, that’s all!" Besides, if the demon listened to her on this, on what she considered good advice, she might listen to her on _other_ matters, as well. She had to start somewhere with at least the less-crazy one of them!

Miz nodded, making mental notes. "Well the food is one thing, the slavery is another. How would one go about making people stop being mean to other people?" She paused. "Brother claims he can change the rules to make a world where everyone can be happy. I dunno how that’d work though."

Pacifica blinked at her for only a second. "Slavery isn’t _mean_ , it’s bad business. Stagnates the economy. All those people don’t get paid, so they don’t have the money to be good little consumers."

"Pacificaaaaaa," Mabel complained. "I _don’t_ think that’s the only reason that slavery is _bad_ ," Mabel frowned at her. "YEAH!!" Grenda agreed, as Candy nodded and said, "I agree as well; slavery is bad."

"Yes, well, if _that_ logic worked on people, they’d stop doing it on their own," Pacifica said primly right back to her. "She’s looking for _solutions_ , not ways to ‘magically’ try and make people all ‘moral’ and such; like _that_ ever works," she told her (still rather naive) out-of-town friend.

"The people owning them don’t really care for that." Miz drawled. "They can sell the things they forced their slaves to make to other people elsewhere in the multiverse."

Pacifica frowned. "You could… disrupt the transportation of those goods and supplies?" She wasn’t used to thinking of ideas for _actively sabotaging_ other people’s sales and supply chains. Maybe if her grandfather was still alive...

"That got me arrested." Miz sighed. "And apparently slavery was ‘legal’ and they were perfectly within the rights of the law for what they were doing."

"Buy all the slaves?" But Pacifica made a face at that. "Maybe… get those space idol fans of yours to boycott all products made by slave labor? Or protest? Fan-mobs can be pretty scary," Pacifica pointed out, ignoring the grimace that Mabel and the other two made at that. "Though that won’t work if your fanbase isn’t _multiversal_ , really," Pacifica grimaced. After all, if they could just go sell their products to an entirely different _dimension_ , then… "The only other thing you could do really would be to buy them all out and shut them down. But you’d have to do it all at once. And it’d drive up the price, once people realized that _you_ would pay top dollar to try and get them that way. It might make the problem even worse; supply and demand." And they’d be supplying her demand, if the laws didn’t change. Pacifica brought a hand to her chin in thought, frowning. Historically, the only other way beyond _that_ to prevent any repeats of the same situation would be to kill the people involved as soon as she closed the deal, as a warning to others -- preferably by having the newly-freed slaves do the deed for her -- but… Pacifica rather disliked bloodshed. And it would set a bad precedent for future transactions.

Then Pacifica blinked and shook her head sharply. ...No. She was _not_ going to be like her ancestors. She was _better_ than that.

"I could try. I’ve just been making deals to help the slaves uprise and rebel. That was… kinda violent. I’m not really good at thinking things through when I get angry…" Miz winced. "And there’s still the blatant racism and all sorts of other issues. And… I just… I know it’s stupid because I can’t fix everything I find wrong with the world, but part of me just gets so frustrated." Miz grimaced. "I asked brother about it, he says that all he would have to do is usurp Ax and change the Rules, but I don’t know if it would work… he’s not sure what happiness means for everyone."

"Look," Pacifica said, raising a hand to her brow and resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Either you find some way to run anybody using slave labor out of business _out_ of business, or people will keep on doing it. Here, we did that with the industrial revolution. Cheap machine labor," Pacifica told her. "Either you find a way to have all those slaves cost more to keep alive and doing their jobs than having something else doing it that _isn’t_ alive, or no-one’s going to want to change."

"Pffth, there’s still slavery here. It’s just called something else now." Miz rolled her eyes. "The prisons in America have products created from inmate labor. It’s the same thing. But now they’re justifying it."

Pacifica and the others stared at her. "What are you talking about?" Pacifica said. "The inmates are all too busy on their rehabilitation exercises to get much done on any of the labor shifts. Those shifts are only there to give them something to punch or kick or hammer together when they need something physically constructive to do... aren’t they?" she asked, looking up at the others around her. Had someone been lying to her?

"Well the ones in Gravity Falls are running around freely, so that’s a weird point…" Miz twitched.

"Well, yes?" Pacifica said, assuming she was referring to Gideon’s gang. "They’re all rather largely reformed." For the most part...

"I’m pretty sure most of them passed their anger management therapy courses with flying colors," Mabel said. She’d received letters -- actual handwritten letters -- from Gideon over the school year. He’d added photocopies of those certificates as part of them, when Dipper had expressed his own doubts. (After which, Dipper had noted to her with a snort that _Gideon’s_ own certificate seemed to be pretty obviously absent from the whole pile.)

"...do you know what’s happening in the rest of America? Outside of Gravity Falls?" Miz asked slowly. "There’s a thing called the Penal Law which makes it legal to have slave labor only if it’s being done by ‘criminals’."

The four girls all exchanged looks. They didn’t remember that from any of _their_ civics lessons.

"...Maaaaybe she means an America in some other dimension?" Mabel offered up to them all. Then she blinked, "Oh! Unless Trembley made an extra _secret_ 13’th amendment," she nodded. At the blank looks she got from two of her friends on that front (and the long flat look from Pacifica), she stifled a wince and thought quickly. "--Or did you mean _Central_ America instead?" Mabel said. "Maybe _that’s_ why Grunkle Stan didn’t like it there so much…"

"...ask about the laws sometime. Specifically, check out the 13th amendment of the US constitution." Miz sighed (as she made a new mental note to herself on just that, while also saying it out loud).

Pacifica raised an eyebrow, typed a few things on her phone, then turned it Miz’s way and held it out for her to read. (She, like the others, thought that Miz had been talking to them, not herself.)

Candy was already ahead of her, reading out from her own phone, "‘Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction. If any work is deemed necessary during punishment for a crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, it can only be for the purposes of reform or training of the individual for their future return to society, taken on at their own consent, with those convicted workers paid a fair wage in chocolate bonbons for such work. And it better only be used for that reform or training purposes stuff. _Or else._ ’"

"Ooh~ they _really_ meant that one," Mabel enthused. "--They added the ‘or else’ to the end of it and everything!"

"In other words, legalized slavery, again." Miz groaned. "And while some people say that it’s what criminals deserve, most people are arrested for possession of marijuana and… that’s not reason enough to fill the prisons with essentially free labor." She glared. "It’s mean."

Miz got several confused looks from the rest of the girls on this, however.

"How is _that_ slavery, if they _don’t_ have to do the work if they don’t want to?" Pacifica said, raising an eyebrow. What part of ‘needing to agree to the work’ had Miz not been paying attention to? Sentences were based on reforment of the individual; the sentence length was more of a guideline than a hard-and-fast rule. They had assessments and reassessments of the prison population on a regular basis nationwide, in the hopes that they could let them out and stop having to pay for their _everything_ as a drain on society, instead of a productive reformed member of it. (Which, unfortunately, did mean that the better con artists and scammers tended to treat prison more like a revolving door, because as long as they could convince someone in the system that they were ‘really and truly reformed’...) She could maybe understand if Miz had been trying to use ‘wage slavery’ as an argument, but Miz wasn’t doing that, and it wasn’t exactly the industrial revolution anymore -- nobody found it useful to own entire towns that the industrial workers lived in. (Frankly, the upkeep was far too much, when compared to the necessary building standards -- and yes, her great-grandparents _had_ looked into and run the numbers on it.)

Miz’s eyes flickered. "Well, as of this moment, there are 1,274,700 convicted inmates in America." She’d been practicing using her Sight while under the unicorn barrier. It only worked for quick searches, but she got it working.

"Well, yes," Pacifica said. "Most of the younger male population this generation has a rage problem, for some reason." Dipper didn’t seem to have that problem himself, which was one of the reasons Pacifica liked him, but... "There was a rash of mailbox smashings at the end of this school year. Some kind of stupid viral social media stunt," which had left a lot of those newly-graduated high schoolers in real adult prison for said summer, to learn their lesson, and a lot of them constructing _new_ mailboxes as an apology to replace the ones that they’d gone and smashed there, for an early release. She barely kept back the sarcastic, ‘So?’

Miz sighed. "I don’t know how to explain it. There’s a whole mess of factors in all sorts of things. Heck, if I can’t even think up a way to fix America, how am I gonna fix the multiverse…"

"...I’m _pretty_ sure there’s not a ‘whole mess of factors’ in slavery, Miz," Mabel put out there, feeling uneasy at the idea of Miz wanting to ‘fix’ America because of… a problem that didn’t exist? She was trying to use her ‘Dipper brain’ here, and she was pretty sure she was failing miserably. (It was hard to be all planny and serious for so long, okay? She was supposed to be the happy fun twin! Slavery wasn’t either of those things! This was supposed to be a sleepover!) Mabel looked up at Pacifica with a pleading look, and Pacifica crossed her arms, rolled her eyes, and let out a sigh.

"Well, there was the fact that--"

"--Miz," Pacifica interrupted. "I don’t think any of the others were expecting to get into a civics lesson or a debate on the correct way to read our U.S. Constitution tonight. Perhaps we can pick this up again another time? I don’t mind talking about this with you, but Mabel’s looking a bit..." Pacifica grimaced slightly at the big-eyed look Mabel was _still_ giving her, "... _sadly desperate_ right now."

Miz blinked and looked around. She winced. "Oh, sorry," she apologized. "This is supposed to be a fun night." She looked down at her lap. "Ok, what should we do instead?"

And then Grenda got an amazing idea. "LET’S PLAY TRUTH OR DARE OR DON’T!"

"Okay," Miz agreed easily.

There was a trio of yells and a thump from outside the room, then a few scuffling sounds and what sounded like a muffled… argument? The girls all looked over at the door.

Miz shrugged. "If it’s something I don’t wanna do, I can always ‘don’t’," she said loudly. "--Same!" Mabel called out.

The unintelligible talking sounds from the other side of the door cut off, and the scuffling sounds settled and stopped.

Miz rolled her eyes (and Mabel let out a breath). Damn that Stanford for his paranoia, and darn her big brother for being much the same. She didn’t get what Dipper’s problem had been, though. (Mabel did; Dipper hadn’t liked any of what had happened with the whole bouncy castle wish and the getting-floated thing _at all_.) Still…

Miz turned to the other girls. "Don’t ask me anything if you don’t actually want to hear the answer to it. And no Dares that would harm anyone," she said loudly for everyone’s hearing benefit. Also, Miz wondered what that Stanford had thought about the conversation she’d just had.

"That’s fine," Mabel told her with a nod. They were all friends here! ...Well, _sort_ of. --They wouldn’t Dare each other to do anything awful, anyway -- that would be _mean!_

"Truth, dare, or don’t?" Candy asked Miz. The other Asian girl grinned and said, "Truth."

And then Candy proceeded to drop a bombshell.

"What is something you have done that you feel super-guilty about?"

There was another set of shuffling sounds from outside the room, and Mabel winced. But Miz just groaned loudly and buried her face in her hands. "I used to work at a fast food place that served burgers and fries, and the fries were cooked in an oil that contained beef tallow-- which I only found out by _chance_ when reading over some of the recipe stuff--" she slumped over and rolled around on the floor. "And management said I’m not allowed to tell people that unless they ask me first, specifically-- and I felt like a horrible monster every time I got a Hindu customer who orders the Black Bean or Turkey burger because they couldn’t eat beef and then they get a side of fries and I _wanted_ to tell them, I really did! But management got mad because that would lose them sales-- so I couldn’t say anything and I felt like a horrible person!" Miz laid on the ground, arms and legs splayed out from her sides like she was waiting to be crucified, awaiting their judgment.

The girls all stared before Grenda loudly declared, "WOW THAT SUCKS! BUT THAT DOESN’T MAKE YOU A TERRIBLE PERSON. THERE, THERE." She patted Miz’s shoulder with a hand, and Miz sniffled. "Really?"

"Wait, what?" Pacifica wasn’t sure she was hearing this right. "How is _that_ something to feel ‘super-guilty’ about?"

Miz pouted. "Well even if I don’t believe in their religion, doesn’t mean I don’t respect their decision to follow it, especially if they’re not harming anyone. But… but…" She sat back up and waved her hands, "I did something terrible! And that was literal EONS ago and I _still_ feel bad about it." (Pacifica frowned at this. Was this demon for _real_ , here? She glanced over at Mabel in confusion.)

Mabel scooted over to also pat Miz on the back. "Well, at least you don't have to do that anymore?" she asked her.

Miz nodded. "I can't work in the service industry anymore, not as an employee at least. I'd probably end up exploding from stress. I'm my own boss now, with my Deals. It's more of a commission-based thing. The only time I have to get bossed around is when Time Baby is being huffy about something." Miz didn't look very happy. (Pacifica wondered who (or what) this ‘Time Baby’(?) was. ...Another different lizard, maybe?) "But at least he doesn't call me up often. And it's still something I could _technically_ turn down…" though she looked even more upset at this admission. "Brother and Stan say I should stop working with Time Baby. No matter the job benefits and pay."

Mabel twitched. "Uh… I _think_ they're right in this case." Pacifica glanced over at her. She was missing the context for this. _Again._ ...Well, she'd just have to ask Dipper. _Again._ ...Speaking of Dipper, she glanced down at her phone, noting that he’d _finally_ texted her back!

[So Miz and Bill say she's his dimensional counterpart. Like, a version of him from a parallel universe or something. But Great-Uncle Ford says she's delusional and that there can't be more than one Bill Cipher because of some demon name thing.]

Oh. Was that what Dr. Pines meant about them sharing the same name? Wait, so… if they were parallel counterparts, though… what _exactly_ did that mean? What things were different between their dimensions? ...Besides apparently the thirteenth amendment?

Dipper's texts continued to pop up, as if Dipper had been typing out a huge message and the phone was sending them in pieces.

[Miz and Bill have this weird synchronicity thing going on, though. And Grunkle Stan says he can learn a bunch of stuff about Bill just from watching Miz, becaise they are similar. And Bill calls Miz a 'me who is also me'.] [But whether or not Miz really is a Bill Cipher or not isn't something we know for sure yet. And parallel world people can be either really similar or really really different, and so can the places they came from.] [Mabel met a whole bunch of other Mabels when she fell into one of those mini-rifts in the woods last summer. People can look the same, but be the exact opposite. And the earths they come from can be really different, too.] [But they can also look really different, but be almost exactly the same in what they’re like, and in everything that happened where they came from. So uh, it doesn’t mean as much as you might think until you actually know more about them.]

... _great_. Pacifica had to put down her phone and breathe. Okay. Well. At least that explained why Miz had latched onto Bill like she had. Probably. (Because if she trusted herself… and she considered Bill to be ‘herself’... It was starting to really look like their own local demon wasn’t the only completely-insane demon they had running around here.) Pacifica mentally shook her head at this, made a similarly mental note to ask for clarification later, and turned back to the conversation as it was happening in the room; the other girls had apparently moved on with the game.

"Truth, dare, or don't?" Miz asked Mabel next, who was sitting right next to her. Mabel opened her mouth, but paused when more shuffling sounds and a thump came from outside the room. "Don't," she ended up settling on, with a shrug. Miz didn't seem all that upset at this, nodding with an, "Alright. Well, your turn now."

Mabel asked Grenda next, who chose ‘dare’, and the tall girl was dared to speak in pig Latin until her next turn by Mabel. Grenda turned to Pacifica and grinned. "RUTHTAY AREDAY ORAY ONTDAY?"

Well, Pacifica wasn't going to risk anything here. No so early on into the night. "Don't." Pacifica ignored the way the other girls ‘boo’ed her, flipping her hair as she usually did whenever they pulled such boorish stunts at her at their school, during the usual school year.

"Candy, truth, dare, or don't?" And so the game continued. When the turns went around and Pacifica got to ask again, she asked Miz this time around.

"Truth," Miz said easily. Pacifica took a breath, then said, "You mentioned your children earlier?"

Miz brightened. "Oh yes, well Ammy's my first born, I sorta created him by accident? Most things born from me don't have Souls but Ammy does and I'm so glad for it, he's a lovely young man. Pyrone and Pynelope aren't actually my kids, but I helped raise them. And Quacker's birth mother sold her to me as part of a Deal." Miz grimaced at that. "I was joking about accepting first borns as payment, but she actually took me up on it."

They all stared at her. "WHY WOULD YOU JOKE ABOUT THAT?" Grenda asked, for all of them. (‘And how was _that_ not the thing she felt ‘super-guilty’ over??’ Pacifica wondered.)

Miz groaned. "I was expecting her to protest, put up a fight, offer me _anything_ else-- I wanted her to try and offer me something else, to defend her children. But she decided that giving up one kid was worth it for the money she'd be able to make. And, I guess she did need the money to support the rest of her children, but she could have offered me anything else and she didn't--"

"Don't ever ask for anything you wouldn't want to put up with later! And-- _agrgraahammph!_ " the girls heard -- first muffled, then _even more muffled_ with a following 'thud' -- emanating from outside the door.

"Everything's fine! Just keep going!" came Dipper's voice calling out next, and Pacifica had to fight to keep from giving herself any more wrinkles. She didn't bother to hold back the sigh, though.

"Brother! You're not supposed to be spying!" Miz complained rather loudly at the door. "This is a _girls-only_ sleepover!" She knew they were all eavesdropping but couldn't they at LEAST try to pretend they weren't?

They all heard a rustling and an 'oof!' and "RAH!" before a: "--Tell that to _Sixer!_ He's--!" and then a few more rustling-scuffling-bumping sounds from outside the door.

"Um…?" said Miz, unsure if she should actually repeat herself or not.

"Ugh, _Bill_ \--" More scuffling sounds. "--RAHH!" Another 'oof!' "Don't even think about--!" "DOUBLE PENALTY!!!" ""...What?""

And then there were the sounds of very much laughter.

The girls (and demon) all looked around at each other -- except for Mabel, who let out a huff of breath and stood up, with a bit of a steely-determined look in her eye. (Miz wondered for a moment if the grappling hook was going to make an appearance next.)

The grappling hook did not make an appearance. Mabel _did_ , however, stand up straight, walk over to the bedroom door, and open it.

Pacifica caught a glimpse of the three of them -- Dipper and Stanford Pines and Bill Cipher -- Dipper and Dr. Pines were on the floor, with Bill practically straddling over them both…

...and both male Pines were laughing hysterically as Bill continued tickling them both mercilessly under him, cackling away with maniacal laughter over his (apparent success?) himself.

Mabel put her hands on her hips and waited a moment.

"HAHA! I WIN!" Bill called out after another few moments, while tossing his hands up into the air (giving the two Pines a slight reprieve in the process).

"Bill," said Mabel, and Pacifica watched him pause in place, then…

"Iiii mean… penalty _completed?_ " they all heard Bill say next (and a soft "Ohboy" from Dipper). "Double penalty completed? Yes?" Bill said almost… hopefully? (Wait. Was _that_ what _playing innocent_ was _supposed_ to look like on a demon's face? Because if it was, then Pacifica was going to have to contemplate actually feeling _sorry_ for Miz...)

"You're not supposed to be giving out penalties, Bill," Mabel told him firmly.

"I can if I want to!" Bill declared, hannds on his hips, looking the downright picture of confidence from where he was kneeling down and looking up at her from the floor (while the other two Pines slowly resituated themselves, pulling away from underneath of him and sitting up a bit -- and readjusting their glasses back onto their face properly as they blinked owlishly at the rest of them, in one case).

Miz hid her head under a pillow, blushing with sheer embarrassment for her brother and fellow demon. Because...

Mabel let out another huff of breath, and walked her way out into the hallway, _and closed the door behind her_.

"Ummm…" they all heard from what sounded like Dipper.

"Uwu…" Miz echoed out sadly from under her pillow.

And then the rest of them heard a muffled but rather strong talking-to going on in that hallway, even through the door, from a rather serious and no-nonsense sounding Mabel for awhile, before hearing some half-protests here and there (largely overruled, it seemed), and then finally some creaking and rustling sounds, just before the sounds of three fading pairs of footsteps going down the hall.

Finally, the door opened up again and Mabel walked back into the bedroom, still in a bit of a huff.

"Boys…" Mabel said to them all, rolling her eyes.

"...Boys," Candy said consolingly herself, as Mabel dropped back down next to her again. "They are most annoying, even when they are older."

"I KNOW!" Grenda noted, in her usual deep tones. "MARIUS GETS SO CLINGY SOMETIMES. A GIRL NEEDS SOME SPACE SOMETIMES, TOO!"

"Here here!" was Miz's cheerful contribution.

"...Right," said Pacifica slowly, because... Had she really just seen the demon who’d made a chair of _literal_ human suffering during an end of the world that he’d caused actually kneeling on the floor and _tickling_ those two into submission, instead of **torturing** them instead? That didn't seem like--

But then Pacifica blinked, because… was tickle-torture _actually_ connsidered ‘torture’ by demons??? (...What the _heck?_ ) That was-- that was just as crazy and messed up as… as...

...as watching him send a bunch of small flying machines around a room for Miz to harmlessly chase and pounce at like a cat? Or help cart around snacks for a movie night for other people to eat (and not get sick from eating) for his sister?

Was… was Bill Cipher _toning things down_ for the moment for his _sister?_ **Because** of his sister? Because she was _here?_ \--Because if he _was_ , then...

"So!" Mabel said abruptly, clapping her hands together. "More Truth, Dare, or Don't? Or do we move on to another game?"

Pacifica blinked at the wording -- not what she was used to hearing out of Mabel -- as Grenda punched both hands up into the air and declared: "LETS DO EACH OTHER'S MAKE UP!!!"

Miz blinked. Pacifica twitched, terrified of what sort of mess the other girls were going to put on her face if _that_ was what they settled on doing next.

"I'm not all that good at make up stuff…" Miz admitted. "It feels weird on my skin, or on my bricks."

’...BRICKS?’ Grenda didn't really get what Miz was talking about, heck, she didn't get most of what the new girl was talking about, but that was fine. "DON'T WORRY! WE CAN TEACH YOU!"

And then there was a look on Miz's face that made Pacifica's breath catch in her throat. "You'll really teach me?" Miz asked, looking so blown away at the idea that... But then Miz frowned and bit her lip. "You won't get mad if I mess up?" She asked, almost timidly. Pacifica glanced over at Mabel in time to notice her flinch.

Candy took Miz's hand and smiled at her. "Why would we be mad? We are all learning anyway." And Miz's answering smile was so bright and hopeful it nearly broke Mabel's heart.

Pacifica wondered why Mabel patted Miz on the shoulder gently, and was still looking a little pale as she dove into a few drawers for… _supplies_ , but… not was probably not the time to ask.

Grenda and Candy each took out their own make up supplies from their slumber party bags (apparently, they’d come tonight prepared), and began walking Miz through which was what and how they all worked. The dragon-demon was paying rapt attention, having never really learned about this sort of thing before, not really seeing the point (and having felt so embarrassed that one time she DID try it out), but knowledge was knowledge and she should still try to learn… to be honest… she’d always been a little against learning how to use make up, simply because everyone around her always insisted she should wear it. It made her upset that everyone wanted her to learn to wear something uncomfortable in order to be accepted into society… and after becoming a triangle, she didn’t need it anymore and didn’t have to bother… but here, right now, this wasn’t learning make up to ‘look acceptable’ or ‘be a proper woman’. She was going to be using make up to play with some girls (new friends?) and in this context, Miz wanted to learn, and she wanted to do well. She didn’t want to let them down.

So Miz payed attention when Grenda loudly showed her which was the blush and which was the concealer. Which brushes or sponges to use with what… though… halfway through, Miz frowned. "Are you sure you’re supposed to use that with _that_? I don’t think…" Grenda opened her mouth to say it was definitely the right one, but Pacifica cleared her throat and spoke up.

"I’ve been doing my own make up since I was six, and I can say with certainty, you’re not supposed to use _this_ type of mascara brush with _that_ mascara. They have different sizes and widths. You don’t want to use something this thick with--" and Pacifica put it upon herself to teach Miz the _correct_ way to use make up. The make up the other girls owned seemed to be a mishmash of supplies from different brands, many brushes not matching up with the implements that they were put with, and a similar mishmash of levels of technique with the limited accessories they’d apparently had at their disposal.

Frankly, the fact that Miz didn’t know how to do this left Pacifica wondering about what exactly she did in getting ready for those ‘space idol’ music concerts of hers. ...If she hadn’t been lying about that.

After a while, all of the girls were kneeling around a veritable pile of cosmetics, engrossed in selecting what they wanted for their impending work on each other (though Pacifica was going to insist on having her own make up used on herself and nobody else, thank you), when Miz commented, out of the blue, "I think it’s awful what your parents did to you." And before Pacifica could do more than look up and start to process that statement, let alone figure out who exactly the demon was talking to, Miz continued with, "Child pageants are awful. I think they shouldn’t have done that to you." The dragon had a hand curled around a container of lipstick, knuckles white. "They shouldn’t have put that pressure on you to be perfect. They shouldn’t have made you feel like you needed to be. They shouldn’t have made you base your own self worth on that." Pacifica’s mouth dropped open slightly. She wanted to speak up, but she couldn’t quite decide on what to say.

"But…" Miz sighed, loosening her hold. "They’re still your parents and you love them." She wasn’t meeting Pacifica’s eyes, staring down at the pile of cosmetics. "So I can promise you now, I won’t mess with your parents. Because I actually kinda like you." Miz moved some of the cosmetics around, organizing it.

Pacifica’s eyes narrowed slightly. (So this demon _had_ been thinking about messing with them, then.) She forced herself _not_ to take in a deep breath, just a normal one, before she asked, "And if you didn’t like me? What would you do to them, then?" Because she’d rather know that now, than later.

"Well." Miz straightened up. "If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have gotten mad at what they did to you to begin with. Well, no more than just general dislike. But I wouldn’t feel a need to _do_ anything to them unless they were actively _hurting_ you. Because at that point, if I see an adult hurting a child, I’d feel a need to stop that from happening." (Mabel looked uncomfortable at this, suddenly. Pacifica made a note of that too.)

"And why would you want to stop that from happening?" the blonde asked Miz. Frankly, she wasn’t about to take anything for granted with her at this point.

The demon sighed. "Because children shouldn't be hurt by adults. It's mean. I don't like it." She bit her lip. "Discipline is one thing, but I've been told there's a limit." (Which implied that the demon hadn’t thought there was a _limit_ to ‘discipline’ at some point earlier than this, Pacifica noted rather coldly. And that made her wonder about the ‘home life’ of the demon’s so-called children growing up...) "And…" Here, Miz glanced up at Mabel before looking down again. "I was told that apparently this applies to me too." (Pacifica’s eyes narrowed further.) "Which, part of me still struggles to accept, but all I do understand is that if a kid is being hurt, I feel a need to do something about it." Miz grimaced. "And that has led to me doing some pretty awful stuff to people. And I hadn't actually thought about how the kid would feel until just a little while ago, so I realized that if you love your parents, even if I don't like them, you would still be hurt if I did anything to them." She rolled the lipstick tube around a little. "I realized that harming the parents would hurt the kid too when Stan got angry at the fact that I wanted to mess with Filbrick for disowning his son."

Mabel sucked in a breath, eyes wide. Pacifica made a note to ask about that too; who was this Filbrick character, that the idea of messing with him had made Stan Pines angry? In fact, she was casually typing it down for Dipper already -- looking down at her phone as she did so, rather than up at Miz as she talked. But she wasn't ignoring the demon; Pacifica gave her a nod. "Well, I for one am glad you won't mess with my parents. I _would_ be rather angry with you if you tried to hurt them, let alone ever succeeded in doing so." She made eye contact with the demon at the last of this.

Miz nodded. "There's still a lot I need to learn, about all sorts of things. I raised four kids but I still don't know if I'm doing any of this right." She grimaced. "I'm starting to realize that some of the stuff I've done to my friends and kids might be kinda bad. And I want to learn to be better…"

"Why?" Pacifica couldn't help but ask (because wasn’t it _too late_ at this point?) even as her phone received a [Filbrick is our great-grandfather. He kicked Stan out of the house when he was 17. Mabel and I tried to go back in time to stop that from happening so our great-uncles would never split up and Bill would] [never get out of the Nightmare Realm but it didn't work, we ended up in that other dimension instead, you saw the pictures] from Dipper. What? ...Oh, so that was how they’d met the 'youngkles'. So Filbrick was Dr. and Mr. Pines’ father. And… Miz had… gotten angry at that man for disowning his teenaged son? And Mr. Pines had been angry that Miz had wanted to hurt… his father. Okay. (Finally, some _context_ for all this Pines family demonic and dimensional madness!)

"Because I feel guilty and awful otherwise…" Miz admitted. "For a while, I tried to stop feeling bad, I just had fun everyday and did whatever I wanted without caring what other people thought. But it didn't make me feel any better. I still hated myself. Even now I still hate myself." Miz was glad Mabel had chased the boys away, she wouldn't have been able to say any of this with them listening. She didn't want to upset her brother with things like this. "And I'm starting to get the feeling that I'm just naturally an awful person. And I don't really like that. So I want to learn to not be like that…"

Hm. Well, now the choice of that particular anime that Miz had all but demanded (through the Pines) that they all watch with her, with a message all about self improvement which she had seemed to greatly enjoy, made at least a little more sense to Pacifica now, in retrospect.

"Becoming a not-awful person does take a great deal of work," Pacifica said evenly, to which Miz nodded herself almost pensively. She’d wanted to change because-- well, for a _lot_ of reasons. It had been Dipper that had made her question it all, all over again, though. She still felt that she owed him a lot, for that.

Almost hesitantly, Mabel asked, "Um, Miz... did you ever hit your kids?" Pacifica and the other girls turned to stare at Mabel in shock, because where had she gotten _that_ idea from?! _That_ wasn’t like her at all! That was--

Miz immediately shook her head. "No. Never. I've never-- I would never--" She looked horrified at the idea (--really, just as horrified as the rest of them felt). "I yell sometimes, I know I've scared them before, and I turned Ammy into a penguin once, I changed him back! I did. It was only temporary and he knew that--" Miz winced. (The other girls exchanged glances, confused.)

"And…" Mabel paused before trudging on, because she had to know. She _had_ to know, for _sure_. "And who hit you?"

Pacifica tried not to suck in a breath, even as her eyes went wide. She stilled in place, and glanced between them two of them.

"SOMEONE HIT YOU?" Grenda said, sounding shocked. "WHO? --I’LL PUNCH THEM FOR YOU!" she declared, making a fist and punching it into her other hand. "Yeah!" Candy agreed, looking angry herself.

"I…" Miz seemed to be having an internal argument with herself. Finally, quietly, she asked, "In which life?" which only made Mabel’s frown worse (and the other three girls start glancing between the two of them even more, feeling rather worried).

"Miz, _who_ was it?" Mabel repeated.

Miz wiggled in place. "As a human…" she looked down at her lap. "It… it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t want to. I was being bad. I was just being disciplined--" She _defended_ whoever it was. (Pacifica’s eyes narrowed at the word choice of ‘discipline’...)

"Mabel, if she doesn’t want to talk about it, you should _not_ push her," Pacifica said rather forcefully, feeling rather up in arms about the whole thing, even though Miz was… an insane and crazy demon who she was likely going to have to kill if she was going to kill Bill Cipher herself… and-- (...Was this what Dr. Pines had been talking about? Forgetting to remember that they were demons? That they were the enemy that needed to be destroyed for them all to survive? Forgetting that they were… not human and didn’t feel the same emotions as they did? But she’d just said that this was ‘as a human’-- and Miz had claimed to have been human once, before she’d become a demon. That was what Dr. Pines had said that Miz had claimed to him before, and Miz _wasn’t_ a demon like Bill Cipher. She seemed to be at least a _little_ human right now, still--)

(She wasn’t-- she _couldn’t_ be… _lying_ right now… could she?)

"But it wasn’t right! Whoever ‘she’ was _shouldn’t_ have hit you, no matter _what_ you did! It’s _not right!_ " Mabel insisted to her.

Miz winced. "I’m… still having trouble believing that. She wouldn’t have… she didn’t want to. She always cried afterwards! She hated doing it. I was the one who _forced_ her to-- because I was bad!"

Pacifica let out a long, tired sigh. ...Well, that was more guilt than she’d ever gotten out of her parents for anything. And whether the demon was lying or not was something she could try and figure out later. As for right now... She shifted over a bit, and placed an arm around Miz’s shoulders (...not entirely sure she was doing this right, but…).

"--and she stopped after Kei was born! She got a self-help parenting book and she was so happy to learn that she didn’t _have_ to do it! Since the book told her of better methods that didn’t involve--" Miz insisted, as Pacifica circled her arm around her and squeezed ever so lightly, just being there for her. "A-and it didn’t hurt a lot. Just stung a little. It wasn’t like it _really_ hurt me--"

"St-stop," Mabel said shakily, and Pacifica glanced over at her. She looked completely sick, sweater-covered hands pressed over her own mouth...

"You shouldn’t have asked about something you didn't want to know," Pacifica noted rather lightly. They had rather been warned, at the start of the previous game, hadn’t they? ...And now Pacifica knew why Dr. Pines might have objected so strongly to the ‘truth’ game before, and wanted to sit outside in the hallway in the first place. If hadn’t just been _physical_ attacks that he’d been worried about, it had been...

Miz covered her mouth, taking a few deep breaths. "She wasn’t bad. She loved me. I know she did… she wasn’t _anything_ like Filbrick--"

"Counting hits is a waste of time we could be spending on happier things, like make up," Pacifica told her, forcibly changing the subject. "No-one is saying that anyone is bad or didn’t love you. We just don’t like that you were hit."

"Y-yeah," Mabel said shakily, trying for a smile. "Right, girls?" She got a pair of quick nods from Candy and Grenda.

"...but it’s… normal… isn’t it…" Miz whispered, unsure. And it was here that Pacifica remembered Miz had asked ‘which life’ when Mabel asked her question. So… she’d been physically abused in both her lives? ...Well, hopefully Mabel hadn’t quite caught that earlier.

"SO… WHO AM I SUPPOSED TO PUNCH, AGAIN?" Grenda said, looking a little unsure as she rubbed the side of her arm.

"Nobody," Mabel said firmly. "We are doing a bunch of emergency hugging right _now_."

"Aha!" Candy said, looking more than a little relieved. "That, we can do!"

Miz blinked as they all promptly gathered around her for what she could only describe as a hug pile (which had Paicifica complaining almost immediately as the other three nearly bowled the two of them over at the start of the hugging, thus leading to the three of them backing off just a little bit with a few laughs and groans and more than a little teasing of her). Miz trembled a little before relaxing into it, feeling warm and… safe? This hug wasn’t like brother’s, they reminded her of Xanthar to be honest. It made her miss him all the more.

"It’s not normal, just so you know. To be hit," Pacifica told Miz, speaking directly into her ear. "Not in this dimension, anyway."

Miz sniffled a little. "I wouldn’t…" She looked guilty and miserable. "I never hurt my kids on purpose. But I have a terrible temper. I’ve scared them before, and there was one time…" Miz trailed off before a determined look came across her face. "I have a confession," she said simply, a bit louder, and more obviously addressing them all. "I once lost control of my powers and… hurt Quackers. And I'll never be able to fix that…" Miz told them. "I didn’t do it on purpose. I was panicking. I didn’t notice she was there."

"I…" Mabel didn’t want to talk about any of this anymore (she knew that she was probably already going to have nightmares about all of this stuff as it was) but she had to ask, to say something, the next thing. She still felt nervous for almost a moment, though, before she asked Miz (a lot more firmly than she felt): "Have you told Bill about any of this? Or Grunkle Stan?" She was a little afraid Miz would talk more about the details now; she really _didn't_ want to know. But the whole thing was horrifying. Getting hit was bad enough -- just, terrible and nightmare-inducing, just thinking that somebody could _love_ you and want to do that to ‘discipline’ you, thinking it was right. But what was even worse was… Look, she wasn't a mom like Miz was(?), but the idea of somebody accidentally hurting their own kid was… it was...

(...also super nightmare-inducing. She was _definitely_ going to have nightmares about this tonight, unless they really managed to stay up all night until the morning, she knew it. Worst sleepover _ever_.)

"Yeah… I’ve told brother…" Miz winced. "He knows. And… he was just as upset. And doesn’t know how to fix it either." Miz seemed to wilt in place. "So… please don’t use a binding circle on me. That’s… what made me lose control that time."

"What?" Pacifica side-glanced at Mabel as the other girl had a look of horrified realization. "You--" Mabel stopped herself, almost slamming her mouth shut, then nodded. "Don’t worry. We won’t do that. We don’t even know how to do that! And… uh, the other stuff was startling or scaring you really bad? Or grabbing your wrists and… there’s the thing about riding in cars, too, right?" Mabel’s voice didn’t quite sound nervous, as they all started to release Miz from her ‘emergency hug’, but Pacifica could pick up on it. Her friend was doing a serious rethink about something.

"Those are mostly just precautions, I really, _really_ don’t want to lose control and hurt any of you. When I get scared, I can't think clearly and bad things happen." Miz told them. "It’s actually easier to keep my control here than at home. This dimension’s so… oppressive? It needs more energy to make stuff happen, there’s more Rules in place… though I generate enough power that keeping a lid on them is still a thing I have to do." Miz thought about how to explain it. "Back in my home dimension, if I just… _think_ about something happening, even if I’m just day dreaming and my thoughts wander, if I’m not holding down my powers, they’ll start to take effect and… change things around me."

Well, _that_ sounded pretty terrifying. Pacifica didn’t want to think what things in Miz’s dimension might be like. (That sounded like it would be even worse than Weirdmageddon had been with Bill Cipher here...)

"-and sometimes even when I’m not thinking about anything in particular, if I lose my grip on my powers, they just leak out and start doing stuff anyway." Miz frowned. "I still need to talk to my brother about that, my lack of control and stuff."

"I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, BUT I FEEL YA." Grenda spoke up suddenly. When Miz blinked at her in surprise, the large girl nodded solemnly. "I HAD TROUBLE CONTROLING MY STRENGTH WHEN I WAS YOUNGER. I USED TO BREAK THINGS ALL THE TIME!" she admitted. "I FELT PRETTY BAD ABOUT IT. BUT I PRACTICED REALLY HARD AND I’M MORE CAREFUL NOW. AND I DON’T BREAK THINGS ANYMORE UNLESS I WANT TO. LIKE OTHER PEOPLE’S FACES WHEN THEY’RE MEAN. SO I’M SURE YOU CAN DO IT TOO!"

Miz looked surprised before she smiled. "Yeah, that’s…" she wiggled. "You’re right. Thank you." Grenda’s vote of confidence seemed to really lift her spirits. Grenda grinned and gave Miz a comforting pat on the back, nearly knocking the much smaller girl over in the process, but Miz just let out a laugh at that, relaxing fully in a way Pacifica couldn’t help but take note of.

Pacifica had learned a _lot_ about the demon now, just from this conversation alone. And none of it felt like Miz was lying... unless she was just _that_ good at it. And Miz actually… well, Pacifica wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Not without knowing whether it was real or a lie or not. She was suspicious and wary as heck about the demon girl; Miz had outright just admitted how dangerous she was. But… it hadn’t been a taunt or a boast or a threat, it had come across as a true warning, one that Miz seemed to be sharing because Miz was worried about hurting _them_ and apparently _wanted_ to avoid such a thing happening

Dr. Pines had said that demons didn’t _feel_ things. Yet, Miz had claimed that she didn’t want to do things that made her _feel_ guilty. So if she was lying, she’d have to be lying and faking all these emotions convincingly enough to...

Pacifica sighed. She was tired. This _wasn’t_ the best time to be looking for inconsistencies in Miz’s professed thoughts, actions, and stories, let alone any of her true motivations for anything that she did. For now, the best, smartest thing to do would be to go along with what she could see. Miz was expressing regret and guilt -- which, yes, could have been fabricated for sympathy, but why would she go through the effort to do so when it would have been easier to simply tell them only good things, if she was going to go to the trouble of lying about things to them? Especially at a sleepover where she was supposedly _trying_ to make a good impression, one that was supposed to be fun. This was…

...not what she should be focusing on right now. Fun sleepover. Right.

Pacifica glanced over at Miz, who was now carefully applying foundation to Grenda (who’d asked for them to go back to sleepover activities), face scrunched up in concentration. Candy was giving her pointers and shuffling through the different eyeshadows to find a good color. As they settled down to continuing the sleepover activities, Pacifica couldn’t help but ask Miz, "Why did you tell any of us about all this?"

"I figured you were worried about your parents, since I am who and what I am, and my brother has done the things he's done. So I thought I would reassure you that I would leave them alone." Miz, still a little subdued, shrugged before picking out some lipstick for Grenda. (...What? Knowing that the demon had been physically abused in the past was supposed to be reassuring?!) "I don't like them. But I won't mess with them either, not unless they try messing with me first. Or if they hurt you. I love mine, and you love yours." Then, as Miz was lightly brushing on some blush, she added, "I mean, I'm also not gonna hold it against _them_ for stuff _you're_ doing. Just like I'm not holding it against anyone else. Well, I'm holding it against that Stanford a little bit, just 'cause I don't like him, but I'm trying harder to leave him alone since it upsets Stan. And like I said, I kinda like you, which already makes you better off than that Stanford."

_...Hold against her parents the stuff **she** was doing?_ Pacifica managed to keep her poker face on, the one her father had grilled her on all through her younger years, and nothing of the fear going through her appeared as she asked the demon, "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's not going to work anyway. That thing you and the others are planning." Miz continued, partially ignoring Pacifica's question. "Brother says he won't… well... And, I don't know all the ways we're similar or different from each other, but I know that _I_ can't... I've tried.’ (Pacifica frowned at this. She’d tried _what?_ ) "So if he's anything like me, whatever you're planning won't work anyway." Miz smiled softly. "So I won't hold it against you for trying." At least she'd try not to. Part of her still felt a little protective. (Pacifica felt her own eyes widen a bit.) "You’re just scared and lashing out in your own way. I can understand that. I won’t begrudge you for being scared. I’m scared all the time."

Pacifica didn’t want to ask Miz to clarify what she meant. More than that, she didn’t think she needed to. She’d heard enough threats in her life to hear _that_ one loud and clear. So she responded as simply as she could: by not saying anything (potentially further incriminating) at all.

"YOU’RE PLANNING SOMETHING?" Grenda asked, her eyes still closed as Miz finished up with her blush.

Out of the corner of her eye, Pacifica saw Mabel send a glance her way. Pacifica herself was careful not to look at Mabel as Miz talked; just and only Miz.

"....And?" Pacifica prompted Miz, because it was clear that that was not all that the demon wanted to say on the matter.

Miz shrugged. "You guys should stop trying though, brother’s protecting your world from other Demons right now. If you do succeed..." Miz frowned. "It’d probably be a free for all. I’m not quite sure how things work in this dimension yet, but the ownership thing seems pretty important here." Miz tilted her head. "So it would probably work out better if you all left Bill alone. He’s pretty invested in keeping you all safe, because that’s what keeps Stan happy, at least that’s what I’m picking up from them." Miz finished putting the finishing touches on Grenda and smiled. "How’s this look?" Miz pulled up the mirror so Grenda could see herself. The larger girl blinked and thundered. "I LOOK GORGEOUS!"

"You’re already gorgeous." Miz giggled.

_Now_ Pacifica glanced over at Mabel, who was biting her lip. (Candy was looking down at the various containers of makeup, listening, but not saying anything at the moment. The Korean girl wasn’t stupid, and neither was Grenda; they could tell something was up with this ‘plan’, but they would keep quiet for now, until Mabel could explain what they were going to be helping her and Pacifica with later. It didn’t sound like it was gonna be another last-minute sock opera play, though.)

The worst part here was that Miz wasn’t even openly threatening them. Not with her _own_ brand of violence, anyway, whatever that may be. No, she was simply telling them quite gently, as if they were a couple of idiots, that having Bill alive was better than taking him down and having to deal with all the other demons who weren’t him. And oh, Pacifica had heard _that_ one before. ‘Better the devil you know…’ and all that. ...Hell, her parents _lived_ that one, on the daily.

And that was how Pacifica knew it was a lie. That was mobspeak for, _you won’t like the power vacuum this creates, you’d be better off sticking with me, kid, and **falling in line**_.

Northwests _didn’t_ just ‘fall in line’, though. They survived, they then thrived, and they always came ahead of the game and out on top. And Pacifica wasn’t about to break _that_ particular trend of her family’s tradition, at least.

It meant that she was setting herself up directly against this demon, and they both knew it. And this demon didn’t even consider her a threat, herself. _That_ didn’t bode well, for her or any of them.

So Pacifica was still understandably tense as she watched Miz wince and then say next, "Sorry, didn’t mean to bring down the mood. I just thought I might as well be honest about how I _feel_ about the situation. Though I might be misunderstanding something, I tend to do that a lot. I thought that Stanford would appreciate if I was honest, but I think he hates me more when I’m being so." Miz sighed. "I still don’t wanna go around lying outright though. It’s more work to keep up and I don’t want to bother. Besides, it seemed to annoy Stan when I tried lying." Miz groaned. (‘Note to self, talk to Stan Pines and see if he can help differentiate between this demon’s lies and her truths,’ Pacifica thought to herself.) "But seriously, I’m not gonna harm you, your parents or anyone in this dimension unless they attack me first, or something like that." (‘Or something like that’... _right_. Pacifica swallowed and tried not to react to that, even as her hands loosely clenched into fists in her lap.) "And I’m gonna try harder to keep my temper. I… I just want to do better." Miz rolled her eyes. "Though I think brother would call it being ‘worse’ depending on how I do so. He’s got a pretty skewed definition for it, from what I’ve seen. Definitions seem to work differently here, dunno if it might have to do with the Rules the AXOLOTL here set up being very different from home. I kinda want to examine that more, but brother says that’s too dangerous..."

Pacifica could see Miz drifting off into her own head as she rambled. Pacifica took this time to send off some more texts to Dipper and frown internally to herself. So Miz knew that they were all trying to come up with a way to kill or otherwise contain Bill Cipher. And… what now? The demon _claimed_ she wasn’t going to do anything to them -- not to stop them, or harm them -- unless they tried to harm _her_ directly, but not if they tried doing anything to ‘her brother’. Operative word there likely being ‘try’. (Which meant that if they _did_ manage to pull something off anytime soon, they could expect to have to handle an attack from Miz shortly thereafter, if they hadn’t got done dealing with her, first.)

But _why_ did Miz believe that they couldn’t do anything to that insane demon, anyway? Because she had tried... to kill him too and… failed herself? And determined that if he couldn’t die when she’d tried to kill him, that none of the rest of them could manage it? (How had she managed to survive the aftermath of _that_ with him? Had he… given her _permission_ to try, or something? Dr. Pines _had_ said that they all treated death like a game, and their own lives like nothing, so...) Or was her ambivalence on the subject just due to the fact that he might not _stay_ dead, like Dr. Pines had said was a thing for most demons, which would explain why she knew about the problem and yet felt so carefree about it.

Pacifica was starting to see what Dr. Pines might mean about demons not having human emotions. Miz really didn’t care about the idea of Bill Cipher dying, killing him herself or otherwise. This demon would likely only get angry _after_ they’d pulled it off, if that was the order they went at them in -- because they’d pulled off the impossible and shown themselves to be a threat to her, having done what she couldn’t, _not_ because she was ‘worried about Bill dying’. That was the conclusion Pacifica came to from all of this.

...Dear lord, Dr. Pines had been right about that. She’d thought he’d been halfway to insane, the way that he’d ranted over that particular point. But instead, he’d just proven himself _right_ on that point -- on _allelse_ the older scientist might have been more ‘factually correct’ on than she’d realized, at the time…

"...though I think I’m still gonna have to take down anyone who tries to harm my friends and children, they’re not immortal like I am so they could get hurt. I can’t allow that. That’s not wrong, right? It _can’t_ be wrong to want to keep those I love safe. Brother said he can take care of himself, but my friends aren’t demons, they wouldn’t be able to..." Miz was still rambling. "I mean, I guess I go overboard most of the time, but if I let those guys go, they’re gonna keep coming after my family, I can’t just let that happen, right?" ( _Going overboard._ Not knowing there was a _limit_. This demon was scary-dangerous, and Pacifica was starting to hate this all, _a lot_.) "Urgh… Tina told me that it was wrong, but I still can’t just let someone who wants to harm her get away, they’re going harm someone else, I've Seen them do so, and shouldn’t I be trying to prevent that sort of thing? And I only really get rid of the ones that I can’t get arrested and therefore neutralized as a threat for whatever reasons anyway…" ( _Neutralized as a threat_... Pacifica clenched her jaw as she stared at Miz.)

"Stop," Mabel said simply. Miz blinked and covered her mouth. After a second, she lowered her hand. "Sorry. What did I do wrong this time?"

"A few things, we can talk about them later, but... just… can we get back to the sleepover right now? And maybe talking about fun stuff instead? ...I can do your make up this time?" Mabel offered. Miz nodded. "Okay," she said before settling down more comfortably and closing her eyes.

Mabel waited until Miz’s eyes were closed, but once she had, Mabel looked over at Pacifica and give her a _look _. Pacifica blinked at her, until Mabel mouthed out, _‘Are you okay?’_ and it was only _then_ that Pacifica realized that her hands in her lap were shaking around the phone that she was holding. Pacifica pulled in a deep breath and stilled them, then raised her chin and nodded to Mabel. She was okay. She could handle this.__

____

____

She looked down at her phone again, and shot off a few more texts to Dipper. He was responding with worry over having left his sister alone with the demon. ...Apparently, he trusted Miz even less than Bill, and that… wasn’t actually all that surprising anymore, with all the talk of lack of control and the fact that Dr. Pines had told her, of how Miz wasn’t part of the agreement -- it was Bill Cipher who was following that. Which meant... [Don’t go barging in here, you’ll ruin everything.] she sent to him, then she mentally kicked herself and quickly added after that -- after remembering that, yeah, _these siblings cared about each other_ \-- [Mabel’s handling Miz pretty well. More importantly, what’s the deal with Miz?] Pacifica asked. [How big a threat is she?] Because Pacifica wasn’t sure what to think with her. [Miz claims to have pretty much killed people who threatened the people she loves(??), waht did she do to them specifically??]

She sent all that off before kicking herself as she remembered… ugh, she was getting tired, okay? It was hard to be at the top of her game when... [Dr. Pines told me demons can’t love, so what the heck does it mean when she says she’s killing people to protect the people she loves and cares about? Does that mean she’s lying and just killing people for fun, or what?] which, from her last conversation with the man, she had no doubt that Dr. Pines would probably say _was_ the reason for it. But in talking with Miz in the same room as her, it sure didn’t sound like that was it. Miz claimed to have children, whom she seemed to care about, if her admission of feeling awful for hurting one of them meant anything.

...If she weren't lying about that, at least.

And Pacifica simply couldn't tell. Did she, as a demon, feel differently about demons than people? Or...

...or… was there a second, different set of rules for people? One that wasn’t equal, or fair in any way? Like… racism, maybe? Like people’s lives were... worth _more_ than demon ones? Since demons couldn’t die, or came back, or apparently didn’t care about their own lives or each others’ lives at all? ...But if that was true, then what Dr. Pines had been saying had been...

Ugh. This was starting to give her _such_ a headache. ...That, or the cheap nailpolish fumes. Maybe she should open a window...

Well, either way she cut it, either Miz was a master level liar or she was telling the truth. Because to the best of Pacifica’s experience with reading people, Miz was being honest, as scary as that was. ...Actually, it almost felt like Miz didn’t really have a brain-to-mouth filter on her, what with the way she rambled on the way she did, both last time -- during the anime showing -- and this.

Pacifica busied herself with opening a window -- or at least, she tried to find one to do that, until she realized that this hovel didn’t actually _have_ one in this room that _opened_ even the least little bit. Not that it had a screen _behind_ it to keep any of the insects or other things out, if it had. Gross.

By the time she sat back down again, Dipper had finally responded with [I dont know about her threat level or who she’s killed. But Miz does love bill, I think. Or at least care about him? She seems to. Great-Uncle Ford says its an act but I don't know what to think myself yet.] This text was quickly followed by another. [But there’s maybe a chance that demons do love, just not in the same way that we do? Like Miz loves Bill but in some kinda messed up demon-sibling way? (I can’t believe i just wrote that...)]

And that was a whole other can of worms to be addressed later...

"Why don’t you like Dr. Pines?" Candy asked, that being one of the few things she was able to pick out of Miz’s rambling.

Miz, eyes still closed, groaned. "He’s a racist," she said simply. Mabel twitched, smearing the foundation across Miz’s cheek, then set her jaw (not saying anything for _now_ ), as she reached for a tissue to handle the mess. (‘If he is, then so are you,’ Pacifica thought, then blinked at herself.) Miz continued, "He’s also an expert in denying reality and truth, if it’s something he doesn’t want to accept as true. It's so frustrating. It took me a while to figure it out, but I think I finally know why he broke himself, he cracked and went into his own head, running away from reality, because he couldn’t handle it." (‘What?’ Pacifica stared at Miz in shock, because _what_ was this, now?) "And denying what’s true and making up a lie for himself to believe instead makes him feel better. And one of the lies he’s convinced himself of is the way he refuses to believe there’s more than one Bill, and that _I_ am one." Miz frowned even as Mabel shakingly put down the implements to pick up the blush brush, next. (Mabel was _very_ angry at this point about what-all Miz was saying about one of her favorite grunkles, and trying very hard not to show it.) "And I don’t like the way he denies my existence. It’s almost worse than his blatant racism towards me."

"...I don’t believe Dr. Pines treats you as if you don’t exist," Pacifica said slowly to Miz, watching Mabel. "If he did, he would have ignored the fact that you were attending this sleepover with the rest of us." It was rather clear that the opposite was the case, in fact. But if _that_ was something this demon believed was considered _denying her own existence_... then she was even crazier than Pacifica had thought.

"I didn’t mean it like _that_. He does consider me a threat. But he doesn’t want to think about how I’m a Bill, he just classifies me as a basic demon and treats me as such." Miz sighed. The Miz laughed. It was a bitter sound. "Not that I’m not _used_ to it. People really don’t like me. Back home, people used to be too afraid to bother me when I was out in public, but when my self control got better and I wasn’t losing my temper at people all the time, they got confident enough to start getting angry at me for daring to be in public spaces. I got _politely_ told to leave while trying to go grocery shopping once. I had cops training guns on me when I went out to lunch with my family at a restaurant…" (Pacifica saw Mabel begin to open her mouth, and then close it again.)

Miz sighed, expression growing resigned. "But I actually don’t mind all that anymore. I’m used to it. That's just normal now. But the way that Stanford denies my existence, denies it so hard he broke himself just to deny the truth in front of him--" (...That made no sense. Dr. Pines didn’t seem _broken_ , and he didn’t seem to be denying anything about her, either. He’d brought up the whole ‘two Bills’ thing to her when they’d met at the mansion, in fact.) Miz seethed. "That ticks me off. Once I realized that’s what he was doing… or at least that’s what I _think_ he was doing." She stopped and took a deep breath. "But I still feel bad for the way he broke. Stan was really upset that I caused it, even though it only happened because that Stanford just couldn’t handle it. But I still feel bad about it. Because he got hurt and I didn’t mean to hurt him." Miz’s hands were clenched on her knees (and Mabel was rather lightly going over the same areas over and over again, barely touching her right now -- if she was even actually applying any more of the makeup at all, Pacifica noted -- it was clear she didn’t trust herself to touch Miz at all right now).

Pacifica slid forward, reached out a hand, and took the blush brush from her friend. She saw Mabel startle, then shiver slightly as she turned towards her -- and oh, did she look angry right now. Pacfica gave her a quick head tick to the right, and Mabel grimaced, eyes glinting with anger, but she nodded once and slid backwards, to be given a rather quieter hug by her two friends than either of them usually did (especially the big one).

"But how am I supposed to apologize for existing?" Miz continued rambling on, eyes closed, as Pacifica picked up where Mabel had left off with her make up. (It wasn’t as though Pacifica hadn’t had to persevere through difficult situations before with perfect aplomb. And _this_ particular topic wasn’t one in which _she_ had any particular level of emotional engagement, unlike her Californian friend.) "Stan and brother say I shouldn’t ever have to apologize for existing, but everyone’s still upset at me for breaking him and I just want to make up for it somehow-- but what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to fix things? Make things better? I can’t _stop_ existing-- I’ve _tried_ but I always come back--" Miz’s voice cracked. (And Pacifica’s eyes narrowed; Mabel seemed to miss that one herself, but Pacifica hadn’t. And she _was_ going to bring _that_ up with _both_ of the elder Pines later. Because if some of these demons didn’t _want_ to come back and kept doing so, that held _grave_ implications for both their sanity, _and_ their willingness to--)

Miz’s eyes were still closed, but she was trembling and crying as she just unloaded everything she’d been holding in, because she knew that saying any of this around Bill would just make him upset and she knew it would probably make Mabel upset too, but she just had to tell _someone_ , **anyone** \-- "And I don’t know what that Stanford would accept as an apology, he just got mad when I tried and it made everything _worse_ \--"

"Grunkle Ford isn’t a _racist_ \--" Pacifica winced at that, this _not_ being a good time for this sort of engagement with Miz, but she kept her own mouth shut and let Mabel continue. "--And he knows you’re a Bill," Mabel told Miz quietly, not looking at the demon as she pulled away from her two friends and started rummaging through the makeup instead. (Hopefully for the last of it what Pacifica would need to apply, to consider this makeover _done_ , and bring a quick end to this whole thing.) "He told us all, me and Grunkle Stan and Dipper, that he knows about all that. That he wouldn’t ever hurt us for knowing that you think you’re a Bill, either," she said next, just in case Miz really actually cared about that. "He just doesn’t think you’re _Bill_. Because you aren’t!" Mabel said, glancing up at her.

"That Stanford says that I ‘think’ I’m a Bill." Miz sniffled again. "I don’t think I am, I _know_ I am. I’m the Bill of _my_ world…" Miz wiped at her eyes. "...I’m glad he won’t hurt you or Dipper for knowing. I was a little afraid he might…"

"You’re smearing your makeup," Pacifica told her, reaching for a tissue, among other things. (Well, at least she could do it right this time.) She rather professionally wiped Miz down, before starting over again, this time going through things far more quickly. (It was _much_ easier this second go-round, with not nearly as many layers of unnecessary foundation caked onto her skin, to have to work on top of without messing up or cracking.)

"But you’re not _exactly_ the same as Bill is, not really," Mabel pointed out -- even if, at this point, she wasn’t actually sure if Miz herself was _better_ or _worse_ than the stupid dream demon himself. "Just like Grunkle Stan and Younkle Stan were different. And Grunkle and Younkle Ford. --You…" Mabel swallowed hard, then tried again, "You _like_ some different stuff than Bill, right?" Mabel said, trying to keep things on a lighter note, even though the things _Bill_ liked were horrible, and she was _really_ angry right now at Miz for lying to her friends about her Grunkle Ford like that! "I don’t think _Bill_ would ever pounce at laser dots like you did with Dipper the other day," Mabel told Miz, with a very strained smile. (...And Pacifica thought it was rather a good thing that Miz was having to keep her eyes closed right now, with the glare Mabel was currently giving her.)

"Yeah, infinite alternate dimensions, infinite alternate iterations of Bill, or Stan or anyone else." Miz agreed. "But I’m _still_ a Bill. And having that part of me denied makes me feel like everything I’ve gone through-- all the pain I’ve had to go through _as_ Bill, is being denied as well…" Miz sniffled. "It’s stupid and irrational, and maybe I’m misunderstanding things again, but that’s… how I feel…"

Mabel pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. She looked back at her friends, when Candy patted her on the arm, before turning back to Miz. (She was _so_ tired right now. Tired of all the lies, and the…)

"...I don’t think he’s trying to do that," Mabel told Miz -- told them all, really. "He just… notices that you’re different than Bill. And you went through different stuff, right? So…" Mabel hesitated, not sure if she should actually tell her that-- No. Grunkle Ford _could_ handle her. He _could_. It would be okay. She straightened in place, looking a little determined, and said, "I think that maybe what Grunkle Ford _really_ doesn’t like, is that you act like you _want_ to be more like Bill all the time. Like, you look up to him a lot? And Bill hurt Grunkle Ford _a lot_. So… it’s like you’re saying you want to be an even worse demon and hurt him a lot too, when you say stuff like that."

"Just because I am _a_ Bill doesn’t mean I want to be like brother. He’s himself and I’m myself. And while I admire him a lot, I’m not planning to _be_ him. I’m me." Miz said firmly.

"Well, you should definitely tell Grunkle Ford that!" Mabel told her, her shoulders dropping a bit, because _maybe_... "It’ll probably make him feel a _lot_ better." It made _her_ feel a lot better. She’d been really worried for awhile now that part of the reason Miz was being so mean to her grunkle was because Miz had thought doing that to him would make Bill happy with her. Like doing that (for him?) was a way for Bill to hurt Grunkle Ford without breaking the agreement himself? But if it wasn’t, and it was all just Miz being a demon and saying terrible things all the time, because… well, Bill did that all the time if you didn’t tell him ‘stop’, so that was probably just another terrible demon thing too...

"....you really think so?" Miz asked, and the note of _hope_ in her voice made Pacifica feel incredibly uncomfortable, even as Mabel nodded at her enthusiastically.

"--But _only_ if you really, really mean it," Mabel told her next. Miz had just _said_ that she wanted to be better and less demon-y, but... "He’ll _really_ not like it if you’re lying, or not sure, or something." (She knew _she_ would be really angry, if she found out later that Miz had been lying to her and her friends about that. ...And Grunkle Ford might not even believe her right away. But Mabel knew that the first step for any of them maybe getting anywhere at all would be Miz actually _telling_ him first.)

And even as Mabel started to feel better, lightening up a bit, her words made Miz turn cold again, that note of hope frosting over.

"...he automatically believes anything I say is a lie, regardless." Miz frowned. "Heck, he likes my lies better." (Pacifica raised an eyebrow at that. She also noticed a headband under Miz’s bangs. Hm, well, Miz hadn’t taken it off, and she didn’t really want to hear any little bit of blathering from the demon about _that_ complete fashion disaster. She’d just work around it like it wasn’t a problem.)

(And, this close, Pacifica blinked when Miz’s headband seemed to… twinkle? There were symbols on it, and they were flashing lightly, faintly, and she only saw them since she was so close. Okay, what was this thing? She had to ask the older Pines later.)

"Wellllll…" Mabel drew out, because she wasn’t really sure about that one, but Grunkle Stan had told her before that if there was something that Bill ever got that wrong, to tell Bill to come to him about it. But this time, going to _Grunkle Stan_ probably wasn’t gonna solve this one. So _instead_ , maybe _this_ time…

Mabel scrunched up her face for a moment, and crossed her sweater-covered arms. "...You could ask Bill to tell him for you? Maybe? Grunkle Ford can tell when _Bill_ is lying," Mabel pointed out, after thinking about that one a bit.

"...he’ll just switch to believing that I lied and tricked brother instead." Miz pointed out, eyebrow twitching as she thought about it. Pacifica couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh of her own. (She could see Dr. Pines doing that. After all, the scientist had straight-up admitted that that was what he thought Bill was doing -- lying to himself and therefore telling the 'truth' as he believed it.)

"Well, you gotta start _somewhere_ ," Mabel told her. "It’s not like stuff’s gonna get any better if you _don’t_ tell him." She was actually pretty sure that if Miz didn't, it would just keep on getting worse and worse.

"...I’ll try." Miz finally said (to a "Yay!" from Mabel). "But I’m not holding out much hope for it," and despite her words, Pacifica could see how Miz was wiggling in place, and the faint trace of hope beneath her annoyance.

"Well, you are a demon," Mabel said. "And he doesn’t like demons so much." She shrugged.

"And that Stanford _is_ racist against me, for being a demon, even though I never had any choice in the matter." Miz was clearly rolling her eyes beneath her lids.

"I dunno if it’s _racist_ ," Mabel said, frowning slightly (while Pacifica hid another wince, thinking 'no, it most definitely _was_ racist' in a way, just not the way the demon was implying it). "I think he just doesn’t like you killing people." Grunkle Ford had never been all that super-clear on stuff to her and Dipper (well, definitely not her, anyway). She wasn’t too sure what he meant by demons, anyway. He talked about 'being a demon' more like it was things people did, than being born some way. "And neither do we. Dipper, or Grunkle Stan, or Soos, or Melody, or anybody else."

"If someone is trying to get to one of my friends with plans to violate her, I’m not gonna hold back on destroying them." Miz growled.

"VIOLATE HER?" Grenda bellowed out in confusion, and Mabel and Candy looked confused as well. (Pacifica, however, did not.)

"--Change the subject, _now_ ," Pacifica demanded quickly, feeling more than just uneasy at the swift topic shift there, to _that_ particular sort of thing. Because that _couldn’t_ have been unintentional on the demon’s part. And she did _not_ want to know--

"Well brother and Stan don’t want me working for Time Baby anymore either, and I don’t like doing his dirty work, so I can see their point." Miz sighed. "It’ll be something I need to talk to dad about, he’s the one who told me to try and get along with Time Baby…"

Pacifica stared, unable to understand what Miz was saying, or what topic she’d just shifted to (if she'd even actually shifted to a different topic at all).

"Well Time Baby is a big jerk, so I think it’s good to stop working with him," Mabel said quickly, nodding at her. She’d said that before, and Miz had said this before, and why were they still talking about this? "So… just no more killing people, okay? That should make Grunkle Ford a lot more comfortable and happy around you," Mabel told the demon firmly.

"If just the act of killing people makes someone a demon, then there are plenty of police and soldiers who would be demons. Heck, if it was even just the act of killing people for 

fun

there are police and soldiers or even just random people who would be demons, and yet that Stanford doesn't classify them as such. At least I don't think he does." Miz pointed out.

"I didn’t say I thought not killing people would make you not a demon," Mabel tried, and this stuff was really starting to make her all headachey -- it was _really_ more of Dipper’s thing, she swore. "I told you it would make Grunkle Ford not so angry and upset with you if you stop doing that."

"I'm pretty sure his definition and mine are not the same for demons. Heck, I think they're not the same definitions within this dimensional set and mine. In my world, demon is a title that someone can be born with or gain over time. It's a classification for your species or career." Miz explained. "I became a demon after I died and came back. But I never got a choice in that. I didn't choose to come back…"

"Okay, no. Stop for now!" Mabel told her. She was tired, this was getting into other-dimensional-talk territory, and... "I'm sure you and Grunkle Ford just need to talk this out, _without_ yelling at each other a bunch. If your definitions aren't matching up then you'll always be misunderstanding each other." Mabel was pretty sure about that one from some of the stuff that Grunkle Stan had told her and Dipper about Bill. She turned around and started applying eyeshadow to Miz. "And that isn't good. But even if you can’t talk to him about that," because Bill and Grunkle Ford sure didn’t do that real well themselves, "At least tell him that you're not gonna try to be more like Bill. --Our Bill, at least. Please?" she asked of Miz.

"...I'll try." Miz sighed.

There was a long pause, during which Mabel looked like she didn’t want to talk anymore, Pacifica finished with the concealer and moved on quickly to eyeshadow, and Candy and Grenda looked between each other, before Grenda asked Miz, "SO YOU'RE BOTH NAMED BILL? THAT’S WEIRD."

Miz giggled. "Brother and I are both Bill," Miz confirmed. "I'm going by Miz right now--" she pointed at herself "--because that is the name of this form I'm in, which I'm wearing because I thought it would make you all more comfortable around me."

"I HAVE LOTS OF NICKNAMES WHEN I WEAR DIFFERENT STUFF, TOO!" Grenda shared. "MARIUS LIKES TO CALL ME SUGARPLUM WHEN I’M WEARING DRESSES AND MAKEUP WHEN I VISIT HIM."

"...form-wearing?" Candy asked with a frown. Miz couldn't nod her head since she was still having makeup applied to her face (by Pacifica now? she sounded a lot closer now, and Mabel had sounded farther away...) so Miz raised a hand and closed her fingers together before 'nodding' her hand. "This form is a vessel I created so that I can be seen and heard by people. My true self exists within the Mindscape since I lost my original body and most people can't see into the Mindscape. So making and wearing a vessel is needed if I want to interact with you."

"WOW. THAT SOUNDS ANNOYING," was Grenda's take on the situation. Miz's hand 'nodded' again. "It is, but I like making vessels, it's fun to customize them." She smiled. "I can look however I want! I can make forms that people like, or admire, so I can actually go out in public and not be sneered at…"

"Miz…" Mabel began, but she was a bit too late to stop Miz, who was on a roll at this point.

Miz laughed bitterly. "You know even before I was a demon, when I was just a simple triangle who’d never killed anyone before, living in the 2nd dimension with the other shapes, people hated me back then too. Because according to the laws and rules, I was an Unnatural, a freak, so they just all hated me on principle." Miz grumbled. "Even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I never killed anyone… I obeyed the laws, I did everything they asked of me."

Mabel opened her mouth to say ‘stop’, but then glanced around and realized… Grenda and Candy and Pacifica were all listening to Miz pretty intently, and none of them looked really weirded out or scared like she was starting to feel again right now...

...and it wasn’t like Dipper and Bill and Grunkle Ford were listening to them right now, out in the hallway, anymore...

So Mabel slowly closed her mouth and tried not to listen instead, laying her head up against Grenda’s shoulder. (Candy and Grenda and Pacifica could fill her in later. She just… needed a breather for a bit, without leaving the same room as them. And Sweater Town was out, because she had makeup all over her face right now. So, Virtual Sweater Town. Yup...)

"The council chose what job I would get, where I would live, how much I would be paid… and they would have chosen who I had to marry once I was old enough, and I would have just smiled and went along with it, because I just wanted to be a good person and obey the laws..." (Candy glanced away from them all at that, knowing what family expectations felt like, while Pacifica grimaced herself, moving on to mascara from eyeshadow, which needed Miz to open her eyes for a few seconds to apply.) "...but then the council made the decision that I wasn’t allowed to see my family ever again. They refused to let me see my little brother ever again. And I couldn’t accept that. So, I rebelled." Miz seemed to wilt into herself. "I disobeyed. And… a lot of stuff happened, but none of it mattered, I failed. I couldn’t get my brother back. He’s gone… everything and everyone’s gone… and I don’t know how to fix it." Miz sighed even as Pacifica moved on to lipstick application at an almost lightning-fast speed -- she had to, Miz seemed almost physically incapable of stopping moving her lips -- and finished putting on those finishing touches. ("Done," Pacifica told her, in regards to her makeup.) "Brother doesn’t know how I would fix it either, my situation is harder to fix than his, he has something of a plan for his. But my dimension has different rules and it would be more difficult to fix what I broke…"

"Bill’s situation?" Pacifica leapt at the chance to ask about this. If Miz wasn’t lying (and frankly, none of this had sounded like straight-up lies; Miz had clearly misunderstood a few things about Dr. Pines, but she could see intellectually why he might want the demon to not have an accurate picture of him, even if the picture he’d rather have painted instead would likely draw more heat down on him, rather than less…), then getting something, _any_ small detail, would tell her a great deal more about either Bill’s actual state, or Miz’s own demonic state of mind on the subject. "What do you mean?" Pacifica asked as she reached for a mirror, hoping Miz would just keep talking and perhaps reveal some actual actionable weaknesses on just this one thing, at least for a little bit.

"Fixing the 2nd dimension so he can bring _his_ brother back," Miz said simply. (Pacifica blinked at her at this.) Miz finally opened her eyes properly and turned to check out her reflection and stared at how strange she looked. "My cheeks look weird." she said simply. She didn’t seem upset, merely surprised.

Pacifica frowned at her a little. Hadn’t she said that she’d had makeup done before? she ought to know what it looked like...

"Miz," Mabel said firmly -- because Grunkle Stan had said they _really_ shouldn't bring up Bill's brother -- "Can you _not_ talk about other dimensions anymore tonight? Or your past? Please?" At least Bill actually stopped when she asked him to. Miz just kept on saying and repeating the same kinds of things, over and over again. It was like she kept _forgetting_ or something, almost.

Miz paused before nodding. "Oh, sorry." she winced. "I need to stop oversharing, I did that even when I was human. It made things awkward with my friends sometimes." She paused again before tapping her headband. "...don’t ask me stuff, I can’t help but answer." Miz said finally.

"Well no more sharing. For right now." Mabel told her. Then Mabel paused. "Maybe we should--" she began, wanting to find a way to tell Miz about as politely as possible that she wanted to end the sleepover for the night.

"--Move on to the next person. Who wants to get their makeover done next?" Pacifica asked smoothly, and Candy raised her hand eagerly. Mabel a good bit of fatigue roll over her, but she put on a smile and scooted over to help her and Pacifica both out. Grenda loudly declared they were going to make her fabulous.

Pacifica could see that Mabel was just about done for the night -- or at least, done with wanting to spend any more time with Miz -- but Pacifica herself wasn't quite ready to stop getting information out of Miz yet. So far, the younger demon had answered all their questions when asked, and while they could be lies, everything she’d gotten out of her yet would still give Pacifica something useful to work with. (Plus, that thing with her comment on how Miz ‘couldn’t help but answer’ stuck out to her and Pacifica was going to milk it right now for all it was worth. Because come tomorrow, she might not be able to do so anymore. Miz was clearly sharing a few things about Bill that Pacifica doubted he would want passed around, and she had no doubt that after tonight, Bill would likely grill ‘his little sister’ on what-all they talked about, and then… that ‘can’t help but answer’ might become a ‘can’t help but _not_ ’.)

Pacifica was sick and tired of being kept in the dark. And this demon was practically _begging_ to be taken advantage of, intel-wise. So Pacifica lowered her voice while the other girls chatted loudly as they worked, and she asked the demon, "So what's the deal with that agreement between Mr. Pines and your brother? Does it have anything to do with the anchor? What is it? Is that why Bill isn't messing with any of us?"

Miz blinked before lowering her voice to answer, glancing over at Mabel with a frown and moving to angle herself so that she could better hide this conversation from the brown-haired girl. "I don't think so?" She frowned in thought before seeming to realize something. "Oh, if you're wondering why brother isn't causing trouble like last summer, it's because there's no point. He only had that wild party because his other demon friends wanted a party. Since they're not here, and I have no desire for a wild party, he doesn't bother. The agreement is just a semi-formal thing? Just ground rules for how to get along with people, I guess?" Miz shrugged. "And the anchor's an anchor," she said, as if that explained everything, which it didn't.

Pacifica glanced over to check and make sure the other girls really weren't paying attention to them. Good. (Mabel was her friend, after all, and her friend had been upset enough for the night.) "How'd Stan get the anchor?" Because if she knew _that_ , she bet that she’d know if and why and how he knew how to use it. --Was the old conman more well-versed in all that magic stuff than any of them knew?

And here, Miz _scowled_ at her question, making Pacifica hold back a flinch, having not seen the demon display this much hostility before, not even at the idea of Pacifica wanting to kill her brother earlier -- which Pacifica would have thought rather similar, but…

"His _twin_ -" Miz practically spat out (while managing to stay quiet), "- _burned_ that anchor into him during a fight. Probably didn't even realize what it was. And if that Stanford attempts to _brand_ the anchor onto any of you out of some stupid thought of using it against my brother, I will count that as him _harming_ you all and take him down." Pacifica’s eyebrows went up at this, and Miz seethed before taking a few breaths to calm down. She slowly straightened back up. "Besides, I don’t know if it’ll work anyway. And from what I’ve **Seen** in another dimension where Stan _agreed_ to do the circle thing with you guys that day brother came back, it only succeeded in [ making Stan burn from the inside out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074396) since the anchor connected him to Bill and vice-versa…"

That made Pacifica go cold. " _What?!_ " she hissed.

"Well, I was looking into the dimensions that exist within _this_ dimensional set." Miz stated as if it were obvious. "And I’ve seen a few iterations of the events that happened here in those other dimensions, you know? Infinite possibilities and all that. I haven’t Seen all of them, just a few that happen to exist here and are similar enough to be counted as possible outcomes branching off from the same starting area. And in one of them, you all tried the circle but you had to stop because the anchor was killing Stan or something." Miz shrugged. "There was also one I Saw in which the teenager you guys grabbed [ wasn’t even Bill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074807), just a human kid that was unfortunate enough to get involved in all this." Miz tilted her head. "There are a lot of different iterations here. It’s pretty cool. My dimensional set doesn’t have that. We only have the one Timeline, and if branches DO form, they’re shunted off to a different AXOLOTL to take care of, so I can’t See them." Miz shook her head and got back on target. "But _this_ dimensional set… well! The AXOLOTL here takes on and has dominion over _all_ the parallel branches! I’ve even found the ‘Bill’ who’s actually a [ demon from the outside](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073751/chapters/29907450). Though, he’s not actually Bill, he’s Will, and… from the best I could understand, he and his twin brother Bill are both demons from the outside and shared their ‘demon-ness’ together, which is against the rules, not that it stopped them…" Miz blinked at the horrified look on Pacifica’s face. "Ah… did I say too much again?"

"What?!" Pacifica hissed again. (It was a good thing she was used to memorizing conversations for later discussion. That had all sounded _absolutely insane_ and-- what?? Just-- _what?!?!?_ \--Because _how many Bills were there_ that they might need to worry about? And other versions of _them?_ \--Were they all struggling with them, with those Bills? Wasn’t there _anyone_ out there who had managed this yet???)

Miz frowned, wondering which of her list of things it had been that had upset her. "Ah… well I don’t know how the anchor would work in _this_ iteration. So maybe Stan won’t be hurt by it?" Miz tried to comfort Pacifica on the subject that she thought might have upset her. "Unless you’re just upset by the demon from the outside Bill? I don’t think he’s gonna be all that bad, even if he is a demon from the outside, from what I’ve Seen about him, however brief, his powers don’t seem to be working right," Miz tried to reassure her. "The Ax here seems to be trying to test something, creating all these parallel dimensions and alternate Bills and all. Not sure what he’s after, but he must have a reason for it…"

Pacifica opened and closed her mouth a few times soundlessly at this. But before Pacifica could respond to any of what Miz had just said, with more than just a _what???_ , Candy called over, "What are you two whispering about?"

"I BET THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT BOYS WITHOUT US!" Grenda guessed.

"Stan _is_ pretty cute when he cleans up…" Miz noted. Candy and Grenda groaned. "But he is so… _old_." Candy complained.

"He’s still younger than me." Miz shrugged. "Not that I’d go for him. I’m sure it wouldn’t work out. Neither him or that Stanford. Brother wouldn’t approve either."

""Eww~"" The other two girls winced and laughed (while Mabel tried to hold down a shudder). Mabel got up and left Candy and Grenda to distract Miz while she checked on Pacifica.

"You okay?" Mabel asked Pacifica quietly, as she sat down next to her. "You shouldn’t have asked Miz something if you don’t want to hear the answer, either," Mabel told her. She’d seen the look on Pacifica’s face after Miz had talked, and then talked again. "She doesn’t know what counts as mental attacks yet. She really does answer pretty much anything we ask."

Pacifica slowly stopped her trembling, fists clenched in her lap. "No, I wanted to know. And I _needed_ to know. I _don’t_ regret asking. This…" What she’d just found out was something _big_. Something big… and _scary_. If she was right about this... It was the sort of thing she really needed to talk to the old con man about _right away_. Alternate dimensions… iterations… _multiple Bills_ that were **here** , nearby, _somewhere_ , with other versions of _them_ trying to stop them, and having just as much difficulty as them doing it. --If Miz could see them, did that mean that the other demon could see them himself, too?

Luckily for Pacifica and Mabel’s mental health, Grenda and Candy were able to keep Miz occupied for a bit -- during which Miz acted pretty much like a perfectly normal girl (quite possibly because Candy and Grenda avoided asking her any questions what so ever, instead going into the topic of cute boys and clothing, and not letting Miz deviate from either of those topics, even a little) -- as they both calmed down a bit further. And then… well, Grunkle Stan came on by and knocked on the door, which pretty much ended the not-sleeping part of the sleepover for them (thank goodness).

And then Miz (finally!) went back upstairs to sleep in Bill’s room.

And… Pacifica wanted to talk to Mr. Pines. But she had to wait, she had to prepare before she did that. She wasn’t going to try and do that tonight; she _couldn’t_. She was too tired to be able to handle the old con man effectively. And if Dr. Pines’ fears were truly the worst realized, and Stan Pines _himself_ had truly been compromised… She needed to bring her A game to this. _After_ a good night’s sleep, and _out_ of both demons’ potential earshot.

Pacifica laid down on her blanket and pillows. Grenda and Candy had drifted off to sleep already. Mabel was still awake, the blonde knew this. "...Mabel?"

"Yeah?"

"So… Miz."

"Yeah." Mabel let out a huff of breath.

"And, she’s telling the truth."

"...not exactly. She doesn’t lie a _lot_. And when she’s not lying, she’s only telling us what she thinks… what she _believes_ is the truth."

"She’s crazy." Pacifica nodded, getting what Mabel was going for.

"Yeah. And she doesn’t always get things right," Mabel noted firmly.

"I noticed that," Pacifica told her without bias or blame, and she heard her friend let out a soft sigh and relax into her sleeping bag.

Pacifica cleared her throat softly, then asked, "So… that part about her life as a triangle… did Bill go through that all too?"

"...maybe. Grunkle Stan says the two of them have a lot of similarities, but different, he called it ‘like looking into a funhouse mirror’ where things can kind of look similar but not the same thing happened, or maybe it would sound like the same thing if you had to say it all in one really short sentence, but it actually happened really really differently."

"So, like, the demon’s in the details?" Pacifica drawled out at her, and Mabel couldn’t help but giggle at that: "Yup!"

...Well, if the two demons were dimensional counterparts, that could be part of it, right? Speaking of which, it hadn’t escaped Pacifica that Mabel had seemed to be _trying_ to keep herself awake. (Admittedly, the ‘slapping herself in the face’ thing had been a pretty big clue. Even Pacifica wasn’t so tired as to have missed out on _that_ one.)

"So, I never got the full story of you and the other Mabels?" Pacifica tried.

Mabel groaned. "Yeah, Grunkle Stan’s funhouse mirror explanation thing isn’t just from looking at Bill and at Miz. I met an Anti-Mabel at the end of last summer when we were closing up all those little ripped-up rifts in the forest. She was like me, but the opposite of me at the same time. She was **evil**. --She hated _cats_. Can you believe that?! But there were some nicer Mabels there, too -- like Military Mabel, she was really cool and--"

Pacifica felt herself slowly drifting off to Mabel’s own drowsy retelling of her adventure out there in the multiverse. There was a lot to think about, and the heaviest thought was that Dr. Pines knew both everything, and nothing at all, about Bill Cipher.

...It was possible that none of them did, any at all of those Dr. Pines’ that were out there, if Miz hadn’t been confused or lying about what she’d just told her. And that was going to be a problem, possibly sooner than Pacifica liked to think.

When Mabel finally _did_ drift off to sleep, she slept peacefully, without any of the nightmares she’d feared she would have. She didn’t think much of this the next morning, and she also didn’t notice Miz’s slightly guilty look at the breakfast table, as the younger demon rubbed at her temples.

Bill did, though. As he steepled his hands over his tea, he tried to avoid Stanley’s glance that became one of those _long looks_ as his Zodiac caught on that _something_ was wrong.

Bill waved it off for now. He’d explain to Stanley later, what Miz had told him the night before. Miz hadn’t done anything herself but tell him what she’d been worried about; and _Bill_ hadn’t really needed to exert much effort at all, really, to keep Shooting Star from having any bad dreams, in the same way that he did for his own Sixer, now.

\--It wasn’t exerting any magic or weirdness on her without her consent, and it wasn’t a spell cast upon her; it wasn't _anything_ that could get him ‘in trouble’. It was something -- the _very_ same thing -- that Stanley had _wanted_ done for his own brother, and Shooting Star’s mental health and physical well-being -- both impacted by good sleep, or a lack thereof -- was of _far_ higher priority than him. Bill doubted that Stanley would have any problem with something so simple as _that_. It was fine. (...The only _un_ -fine part about it was that Miz had been rather certain that she’d caused it, what would have happened if Bill had not intervened on his own for his Zodiac in that manner last night…)

Miz had also asked Bill to help her tweak her headband again, because she just hadn’t been able to shut up at all. That was something that Bill was more worried about than Shooting Star. (He was a dream demon, and the Master of the Mind. He could handle making sure Shooting Star’s Dreamscape didn’t devolve into screaming nightmares for a few days or more. Helping his sister with her own troubles was what took actual understanding, planning, and significant effort, when it came to his part.)

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Hoo boy... a lot to unpack there, might as well throw out the whole suitcase
> 
> **My AN:**  
> ...and then some.


	32. Chapter 96.3: Interlude (Pacifica’s conversation with Stan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> The little Llama wants answers, but she might get more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 114 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/49508612). It was first posted on Sep 30, 2019.

\---

"I need answers." Pacifica told Stan Pines. She’d been surprised to get a text from Mabel earlier that said Stan wanted to talk to her. She was worried, of course, about meeting so soon after that disastrous sleepover, but apparently the demons were going to be busy and distracted for a few hours. She didn’t know what that meant, but Stan had set up the meeting at Greasy’s Diner, with the story that he was going taking the niblings out to lunch there since they hadn’t gotten to go with him the last time that he'd gone. So that was where Pacifica found them. And she had slid into the booth and gotten straight to the point.

...Or at least she'd meant to. But before she could begin talking, Mr. Pines pulled a rolled-up wad of papers out of his back pocket and tossed it down onto the table in front of her.

At first, in her confusion, she thought it was a magazine or a newspaper, until she picked it up and blinked at it.

Mr. Pines lounged back in his booth seat, sipping on a cup of coffee while she read it. And gone still, as she realized what she'd been holding. She was quiet as she read, and gotten even quieter as she went on.

She read the whole thing despite all this, though, and when she was done, she carefully set it down and slowly looked up at him.

"Did Miz tell him, or is his hearing just that good?" Pacifica asked him quietly.

"If you really wanted to know that one, you shoulda stuck around for breakfast, and asked the kid himself, directly," Mr. Pines told her, and Mabel winced.

Pacifica stared bullets into Mr. Pines for a moment, then looked over at Mabel.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me we were being listened to," she stated rather coldly at Mabel, thoroughly incensed at this point, and Mabel winced.

"She didn't know," Pacifica heard from up behind her, and she went rigid. "But _that Stanford_ does," continued a voice that sounded like playful knives.

Pacifica barely resisted the urge to punch straight out, as the demon slid into the booth seat at her side, right next to her, and...

"...Thought I told ya to stay at the house with your sister, kid," Stan Pines said, eyeing the demon over his coffee mug critically. Pacifica's mind was spinning in circles at this point, but she supposed it was a small comfort that Mr. Pines sounded at least a little disapproving if the demon's presence, as the demon picked up _the transcript from last night's conversations from the sleepover_ right in front of her, and slid it into… a hat. Some sort of… she wasn't sure exactly what it looked like, but it was a bit floppy and pointed and she was too scared right now to turn her head.

"And miss _this?_ \--Stanley, you _wound_ me," the demon purred out with a scary kind of sarcastic glee and a wide wide grin.

And then Pacifica all but flinched as the demon's hand came down on her head with almost a _slap_ and--

And the demon began to… he was…

(Pacifica started to twitch.)

... _petting_ her, on top of her head. Running his right hand into, over, and through her hair _gently_ , in some dumb _parody_ of--

Pacifica ducked her head and slapped his hand away.

And she was just about shaking with rage and fear as she looked up at the demon and--

\--the demon was staring down at her with a low-lidded gaze, in something almost, but not quite like, amusement.

"...Bill…" Pacifica heard Mabel say quietly, across the table, at Mr. Pines' left-hand side.

"Rude, much?" Bill Cipher said to Pacifica (presumably, of her hand-slapping, rather than referring to his own improper actions like he _should_ be), as he tossed an elbow over the back of the booth and turned away from her slightly.

Pacifica was ready to tell him off, getting her face rearranged be damned, when Lazy-Eye Susan walked by and took a moment to slow down and _scratch Bill on top of his head_ as she went by.

"Don't forget," Lazy-Eye Susan said cheerfully, as she started to walk away again, "Your shift starts in an hour;"

Pacifica was already staring at the way that the demon had practically stretched his head and neck upwards to follow her boss' hand and those scritches. She started to twitch at the thought of the demon having taken a job at the diner, and the idea of being stuck on her shift with him for the rest of the day when her shift started in an _hour_ \--

("Mm," went Bill, leaning back in his booth seat. The demon looked a lot more relaxed now, as Pacifica eyed him critically.)

...Oh. Right. Right. _Her_ shift, not his-- Wait.

*Kid," Mr. Pines said blandly, as he took another sip of his coffee. "You maybe wanna go up to the counter and get some more scritches in, or whatever?"

"Counterpoint: I get to mess with Llama if I stay sitting right here, _plus_ head scritches," the demon drawled out lazily.

"Counter-counterpoint, even more head scritches up there," Mr. Pines said evenly.

Bill actually tilted his head back quite far and rocked it side to side slightly in place, with a slight grimace that came and went as he "HMmmMMMMmmmMMMmmmmm…" hummed out in thought.

...Pacifica could _not_ believe this The stupid-- "Just-- _go up to the counter already!_ " she spat out at the demon, practically shoving him out of the booth with both hands.

The demon had to have been expecting this, though, because he didn't end up on his butt on the floor, he ended up on his feet in something of a dignified huff. "Rude!" the demon said, but for some reason he was _grinning brightly_ as he turned away from them and walked off. To sit himself down over at the counter. ...For more head scritches, which Lazy-Eye Susan was providing. (The traitor.)

Pacifica pinched the bridge of her nose. "It was _him?_ " she asked. " _Not_ Miz?" Really? It had been _him?!?_

"Both of them, kinda," the old con man told her over his coffee.

Pacifica stared over at him, aghast.

_"Why?"_ she asked of him openly.

But to this, the man shrugged. "Kid likes worship. Go figure."

Pacifica stared at him.

"And Miz?" she asked, after a long moment.

"Miz… _kinda_ seems to just like the attention," Mabel told her, and Pacifica looked over at her, as Mabel squirmed slightly in her chair. "Miz is… lonely." Mabel added, as if that explained it.

Wonderful. She'd survived the demon for the moment. Despite the fact that he, and Mr. Pines, both obviously _knew_ that'd she'd been-- last night--

Okay, this was great and all, but-- "I thought you said they’d both be busy for a few hours--!" Pacifica hissed at the old man as soon as Bill looked to be thoroughly in the throes of a good petting (practically slumped over -- and across -- the counter at the front almost fluidly). Not that it apparently meant much, considering the demon could apparently just pull up whatever people said somehow, no matter what, barrier spell that was supposed to prevent magic or not!

"Kid changed his mind when he heard I was taking the kids to the diner for a few hours," Mr. Pines shrugged off.

Pacifica was about to ask him another pointed question when she heard an "AAACK! -- _BILL!_ " from the front, and she had to let out a sigh. ...Well, Dipper was clearly out of the bathroom after washing his hands again, now.

Pacifica couldn't help but rub a gloved hand against her brow, as some cackling and muted back-and-forth occurred in-between the two of them at the other side of the cafe, until Dipper finally got away from him and dropped down next to Pacifica into his own seat there (recently-vacated by Bill and originally vacated by one Dipper Pines earlier) once again.

"How is this my life," she heard Dipper mutter as he slid a little farther into the booth next to her. " _Why_ is this my life. Stupid demon. Stupid--"

"--Hey," Pacifica heard Mr. Pines say almost critically -- certainly, rather more sharply than she was used to hearing from the old con man ever -- and Dipper… winced and quieted down on his insults. Pacifica glanced uneasily between them.

Mabel winced. "Bill… hates being called the ‘s’ word. It makes him _really_ mad."

"But he's perfectly fine calling everybody _else_ an idiot," Dipper muttered out, crossing his arms and sliding down and back in his seat.

"Never said the kid ain’t a hypocrite." Stan sipped his drink. "Never said he don't take being called an idiot a hell of a lot better than 'the s word' neither," Mr. Pines snorted out, with an odd twinkle in his eye as Dipper looked up at him with… some kind of dawning realization going on, for some reason.

"What, seriously?" Dipper asked, and the old con man gave his grandnephew a nod something of a gleaming-eyed smile over his coffee cup, as he took another sip from it.

"Kid don't usually dish out what he can't take," Mr. Pines noted. "Never heard him call anybody stupid who didn't call him that first."

And this… apparently had Dipper sitting up a little and frowning, still crossed-armed, in thought. "Huh…" Pacifica watched as Dipper turned around in his seat and looked past the side of the booth -- apparently, watching the demon for a bit, with the direction in which he was looking.

"So, what," Pacifica drawled out, "Only _some_ insults are fair game?"

Mr. Pines looked over his coffee cup at her again.

"Remind me to hand you a dictionary sometime," the old con man said, apropos of none.

"...I have several dictionaries at home," Pacifica said, almost caustically, but the old man just looked at her and shrugged it off with a "Suit yourself."

Pacifica frowned up at him, then tried not to wince as Dipper whispered out to her in her ear, "I'm pretty sure he meant all the Bill-speak stuff. The dumb dorito's got some weird definitions for things, or something," Dipper told her ( _reminded_ her, really -- Mabel had said the same thing to her last night during the sleepover, blast it!). "I think it’s ‘cause he’s insane and doesn’t think the same way we do," Dipper ended up telling her next.

Right. "...I would appreciate a copy of this demon-translation dictionary." Pacifica conceded.

"Oh, yeah? You sure?" Pacifica gritted her teeth. She _really_ didn’t like the smug smile Mr. Pines was giving her right now. _Or_ the, "Heh, maybe I should charge you for it. Gotta be worth _somethin'_ , bein' able to talk to demons like--" ("Grunkle _Stan_ ," Mabel chided him, to a "Yeah, yeah, fine," from him next.) But she knew how to set aside her pride (and potentially her checkbook) for something important, and knowing how to essentially speak the demon’s language would be something critical for her to know. So even if he really meant to gouge her on it later, Pacifica _would_ pay up for this. If she had to. (It had just better be _very_ accurate, and _not_ one of those stupid scams of his.)

So Pacifica gritted out through her teeth, "I would very much appreciate it, if I could get a copy of this demon-dictionary," she repeated.

"Yeah," said Mr. Pines over his coffee cup as he downed it to the last drop, _not even looking at her_ , "I heard ya the first time, y'know."

Pacifica bristled, but she stopped herself from saying anything caustic when different put a hand on her shoulder, she turned towards him, and he shook his head at her in warning.

So she took a deep breath, and got back to the real point at hand. "That transcript you had; he knows what we were talking about." Pacifica stated. Mr. Pines nodded. "And he knows what Miz said." Another nod, and something of a lopsided smile.

"So, he knows that Miz doesn’t love him." Pacifica stated. That was part of her worry, because if Dr. Pines was right about the whole pretend family play thing, then Bill finding out Miz didn’t love him might make him want to call off this game.

Stan raised his eyebrows at her for just a moment, then grimaced. (Hell, and here he'd thought she might actually have the thread going there, for a second.) "Nah." He paused at her look, before letting out a sigh and telling her, as he held out his cup for a refill and got one (as Lazy-Eye Susan passed by), "She _adores_ him."

"Then _why_ isn’t she _worried_ about--"

"--You wanna take this one, Dipper?" Mr. Pines said, cutting her off, and it startled her.

She looked over at Dipper and he said, with a slight 'sorry' grimace and a shrug. "Bill told her to stop trying to protect him, this morning at breakfast. Stop getting angry for him, too?" He looked over at Mr. Pines, and said next "It kind of came up, when Grunkle Stan was talking to him and Miz about the while slumber party thing, and Grunkle Stan asked him for a transcript of the whole thing, and stuff." And Dipper didn't look any happier about the whole transcript thing than she felt. In fact, his own response to what must have happened this morning gave Pacifica pause.

"And Miz _was_ tryin' to protect him," Stan pointed out, pointing his own coffee cup at her. "Tryin' to threaten you all for him, and everything. Ain't real happy about that," the old con man noted. "She still ain't playing nice yet." If she was ever going to stick by stuff and actually _start_ playing nice, at some point. Stan wasn't holding his breath for that one anymore. At this point, he'd just take the kid being able to stop her from killing or maiming anybody.

Miz was just too forgetful, too out of control, and Stan wasn't going to count on Bill being able to straighten her out anytime soon, Even with the dragon-lady herself saying that she wanted to be quote unquote 'better', that whole nighttime conversation with her hadn't really _changed_ anything with her and what she was doin', not really. The best he'd gotten out of that, was her keeping her mouth shut sometimes around Ford -- and even that was out the window again now, what with the whole headband thing back and forth, with the needing to stop reading other-people's thoughts stuff having tangled _that_ whole mess up all over again, now.

Not that that really changed anything, in the long haul. She was too spontaneous, like the kid wasn't. She reacted without thinking first, forever and always -- which was really the freaking opposite of the kid, even if the demon lost his temper over shit sometimes, too. She _didn't_ think ahead, not really, and she _forgot_ stuff on top of everything else, like the kid _didn't_ , so when you _told_ her stuff, it just didn't _stick_ , even if she seemed to mean it at the time. Stan didn't know what to _do_ with her, really. And when she got scared and upset, if _that_ ever happened...

Heck, she’d told them already -- and Stan _really_ wasn't looking forward to finding out what she actually meant on _that_ one -- that when she got scared or upset, she couldn’t think properly. ...Like she was even thinking 'properly' at all to begin with. Stan grimaced at that.

\--Which was what made her so damn dangerous, really. She _wasn’t_ actively malicious most of the time (except with Ford -- though that was a pretty big 'except' in his book), and it made it even harder to handle her, because he couldn't just go punching her in the face for completely deserving it, telling the kid she deserved it, and just leaving things off at that. Oh no, dragon-lady couldn't make it that easy for him. She just decided she was all _'right'_ about something, no matter how wrong she actually was about whatever it was, really -- because she just forgot what it was convenient for her to forget, to go forward with things however she wanted -- and then bulldozed her way forward, through everything and anything in-between, including people even. (Hell, sometimes for her, that seemed like a selling point. Murdering all those pedophiles and shit. Like she _needed_ the excuse to 'be good'... at killing and messing with people...)

Stan sighed. Hell, getting _therapy_ wasn't going to be nearly enough for the dragon lady, here. She didn’t _just_ need therapy, she needed someone literally freaking telling her what she could and couldn't do, and making it freaking stick, somehow. Dragon-lady wasn't going to stop any of this shit on her own, that was for sure.

And no, Stan wasn't going to be the one who was going to do that. But he was starting to understand why Bill was so worried about her being alone with him now. If Bill thought Stan could actually tell her to stop doing this stuff, and actually have her listenin' to him, he'd be real damn tempted to do it outright, and just be done with it. But he wasn't anybody's mother, and he sure as hell wasn't her friend. He wasn't signing up for any of her shit, and the sooner she left at this point, the better, far as he was concerned.

"...Miz is really _afraid_ of losing Bill…" Mabel spoke up.

"She ain't going to lose the kid," Mr. Pines told them all, as he took another sip from his mug. "Whole point of them being siblings, and all."

"But she’s still _afraid_ of it. Of… being left alone." Mabel continued, remembering what they'd talked about out in the yard, about what Bill had said to her specifically outright, about being lonely and... "She’s afraid of _losing_ Bill. Like she lost her _other_ siblings," the teenager emphasized. "You, um, you remember what I told you that they said to each other, out in the yard, when Bill was helping her with the whole 'listening to other people's thoughts' thing?" she asked her grunkle, hoping he would understand what she meant without her having to outright say it.

That got everyone to turn and stare at Mabel.

"Miz can listen to people's _thoughts_ now?" Pacifica asked Mabel in horror, to which Mabel quickly waved her hands in front of her and assured her, "No! Not anymore! That's what they were working on the headband for!"

Meanwhile, while _that_ little panic attack of Pacifica's was going on, Stan was letting out a sigh and rubbing a hand over his face as he remembered what Mabel had told him.

"...Grunkle Stan?" Dipper asked him slowly, but Stan just shook his head.

"Ain't somethin' to worry about, Dipper," he told him. If there were two things he was really sure of with that triangle… "Kid looks at her like he practically wants to box her up and hang her around his neck for a start, lately. Pretty sure he's not gonna _let_ her go off leavin' or anything, until he sure that she's gonna remember to come runnin' to him if she's having any problems with anything, and he's got his own way of going after her and getting to her if he needs to," if he thought she needed _him_. The rest of it -- getting his new baby sister handling her powers 'right', or whatever else it was that the kid said he wanted to work on with her before she went anyplace else that was any _less_ safe (read: anyplace where the kid _wasn't_ ) -- was really only the 'gravy on top' for the kid, Stan was pretty sure. Stan didn't doubt that the crazy triangle demon would be more than happy to go to where Miz was if she needed him later, for more help than she could ever need on that sort of thing or whatever, but the kid might not be able to help her later if he couldn't _get_ to her himself. First things always came first with the kid; the kid wasn't stupid -- he knew what he was doing.

"But what does that have to do with Miz thinking we can kill Bill Cipher?" Dipper asked Stan dubiously next, and Stan barely stifled the sigh. He _didn't_ stifle the grimace.

"Don't think that the kid thinks that the whole 'convincing her to run to him' thing would work, without convincing her he can't go on bein' dead for him to not be here to help her. If the kid can't convince _her_ , and she ends up convincin' him _instead_ , maybe that might mean somethin'." Stan told Dipper with a shrug. Seemed simple enough to him.

...and Pacifica was staring at Mr. Pines incredulously. "What, are you _joking?_ " she asked him somewhat rhetorically (and angrily), then stopped and took a deep breath. "Do you _honestly_ believe that we really can't kill Bill Cipher. Again." She stared at him flatly and coldly. Because it had been one thing when she'd heard Dr. Pines say it, that Mr. Pines was refusing to help them all kill Bill Cipher. But it was a whole different thing, to be sitting here in this booth and watching the old con man scratch at his cheek and then shrug at her, going "Eh," in front of her, in the here and now -- it was absolutely _infuriating_ and-- and--

Pacifica _slammed_ both hands onto the top of the table in front of her and shot to her feet, about to read Mr. Pines the riot act--

\--and Pacifica jolted in place as she felt a pat on top of her head again.

She not-quite froze in place again, and not just because of the looks on the faces of the two Pines twins, both in front of and next to her.

\--and slapped Bill's hand away from the top of her head yet _again_ , turning and _scowling_ up at Bill--

\--who was lounging on his side across the back and top of the booth seating, looking down on her with amusement in his eyes.

And he grinned.

"Little Llama," Bill purred out at her. " _So_ angry. --You should be _careful_ ," Bill told her, with a gleam in his eye. "When you get so angry that you're ready to _attack_ , don't forget to _**not**_ turn your _brain_ off!"

Pacifica stared up at him for a moment in sheer disbelief.

...and _then_ she realized _exactly_ what she'd been doing.

In the exact same diner that Bill was sitting around in.

Within earshot.

...And then she realized that what she was thinking was entirely wrong, and not even really the main point or the real problem of it all, when Bill said next, almost _playfully_ : "....You _do_ remember that you're NOT on the priority list, _don't_ you?"

And then Bill just _lounged_ there. And propped up his head under a fist in a _listening_ posture. And just _waited_.

...turned her brain off. She'd _turned her brain off._ Pacifica fought the desperate urge to giggle hysterically at the sheer stupidity of what she'd just done here today. Meeting with Stan Pines directly. --Dr. Pines was _already_ compromised, and there had been no reason whatsoever to think that Mr. Pines would have been anything better, anything more but worse than that, even. The twins hadn't been telling her anything _close_ to everything either, and she should have known better. She should have known better than to--

She should have _left_. She should have _left_ when she'd realized that Bill had first arrived...

Pacifica felt a chill go down her spine, as the demon looked at her piercingly, and Bill's grin got just a _touch_ wider, as if he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking, here and now.

...they'd _all_ been compromised. _All_ of the Pines had been compromised.

"Time to answer a _question_ for me, little Llama," Bill Cipher said to her next. "Which _side_ are you on--"

"Bill--" Stan started to say, in warning tones.

"-- _Glasses_ , or my Six-Fingered Hand?" the kid said next, and there was no way Stan was gonna let _that_ one slide.

But the kids started getting there first. "--That's _not_ a fair question, Bill, and you know it!" Dipper put out there almost immediately.

Pacifica was almost thrown off by the level of _accusation_ in Dipper's tone, but right now, she couldn't look away from the demon in front of her. She was sweating at this point, and she could… she could _feel_ the knife's edge she was balancing on, just held, being held underneath her… ~~ready to slice her up and--~~

"Kid, you didn't give her my side as an option there," Stan put out there before things could begin to get any worse.

"Because your side isn't an option for her right now," the demon said next, not looking away from Pacifica's own gaze. "She wants to attack me; she's not part of the agreement. That means she's either with Glasses, or with Sixer, right now," the demon said easily.

"And this is something you've got to know _right now,_ " Stan tried rather blandly, as Pacifica continued to sweat under the demon's gaze.

The demon's grin got a little wider.

" _Yes_ ," the demon purred out, like he was savoring the word.

There was a pause.

"...It's your funeral," Stan said next, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat, to both the twins' horror.

"HAHA! --Quite possibly!" the demon enthused, leaning in a little more closely. "Go on and _choose_ , little Llama. I want to _KNOW_ ," he told her, with that grin still plastered across his face.

And as Pacifica stared up at him with her mouth dry, and her throat starting to feel closed off, and her hands numb with the cold spreading through her...

...she started to get really, truly, _angry_.

Her hands clenched into fists.

"Go to hell," she told him, but the demon just laughed.

"Been there, done that! Burned the t-shirt _already_ , even!" the demon told her. And then he ducked his head down slightly closer to hers and told her, " **My side** isn't an option yet."

" _Kid_ ," Stan said in exasperation.

" _I want to know_ ," the demon said, and there was a flash of something sharp in his eyes. "I want to know if she's going to _**lie** to me TO MY FACE_ or not," the demon told _Stan Pines_ , while looking at _her_ , and _**that was the last straw--**_

"--Dr. Pines!" Pacifica spat out at the demon, in defiance and rage, and--

\--the demon _blinked_ at her and his head came up.

And he broke out into a wide, and different, _delighted_ sort of grin, all at once.

" _Excellent_ choice!" the demon told her, reaching out and patting her on top of her head.

But before Pacifica could bat his hand away from her head again -- or even start getting over her shock at his reaction, really -- the demon pulled away from her _on his own_ and then proceeded to slip off the top of the divider between the booths, and down onto his feet in the open aisle space of the diner, looking both relaxed and as if he was pleased at this whole turn of events somehow.

...Meanwhile, Pacifica was breathing like she just been running for miles and miles, wondering what the hell had just happened.

"Hey kid, c'mon now," the old con man called out to the demon, as the demon began to turn and start walking away. "You really going to leave it all at that?"

And the demon turned in place and looked back at him, walking away backwards with a smile on his face. "I got what I needed from her," he said casually, giving him a hand wave.

"Yeah?" said the old con man. "But did she get what she needed from _you?_ "

And at that, the demon stopped in place abruptly and blinked at him.

And then turned his head a bit more to look over at Pacifica again.

He stared at her for a few moments, then turned back to Stan Pines with a slightly inquisitive frown on his face.

"I don't need anything from him!" Pacifica protested, feeling uncertain, and attacked somehow by the thought, and also… she wasn't _sure_ what.

"...If she wanted something from me," the demon said slowly, almost as if he hadn't heard her. "She would have stayed for breakfast. She didn't do that," the demon said, and… Pacifica slowly began to realize that the demon… what the demon was _actually_ doing right now, was...

"You sure about that?" Stan Pines asked the demon casually, as he took a sip of coffee from his cup, and… The demon looked between them again.

"...what do you think you see that I don't?" the demon said slowly next, and Pacifica didn't know _why_ what Bill had said there was important, but it sure seemed to have gotten the _twins'_ twin attention for some reason, somehow.

"I _don't_ need anything from him," Pacifica insisted. "I just want him _dead_." Because, frankly, if the demon hadn't killed her yet for telling the truth about what she was doing with Dr. Pines -- _which the demon obviously knew and wasn't worried about in the slightest_ \-- then--

"--Yes!" the demon said enthusiastically, clapping his hands together, and turning towards her with a grin. "That's why you're working with that Stanford, not Glasses! --It's a good choice," the demon said next, "A good fit for you."

That left Pacifica frowning.

"...Yeah," said the old con man with a sigh. "She's not going to ask. Never mind, kid. Go off back to your sister, or whatever. Pretty sure you're right about being done here."

And to that half-a-order, the demon just gave Stan Pines a laugh, a grin, and a salute, before turning on his heel and jauntily walking off once again -- this time, leaving the diner as he did so.

And Pacifica slowly turned to the Pines and asked, "What did he mean? How is McGucket _not_ trying to kill Bill worse than working with Dr. Pines to do that?"

And if she hadn't been looking at him and not blinked, she would have missed it.

She almost had a buzzing in her ears, as she stared at him, not hearing anything at all of what he said next. Not that it would matter, she knew it was probably some old con man thing of no importance, with the look he had plastered across his entire face right now, but...

If Gideon Gleeful hadn't _ranted_ it at her so many times over so many years -- more and more frequently over the last two -- she would be doubting her own sanity at this point. But she'd seen it. She'd actually seen it. She'd finally seen what Gideon had been talking about, out on full display so completely, for just a mere moment.

She'd known the old con man was smarter than he looked -- he _had_ to be, really, he wouldn't have been able to stay in business with Gideon going after him like that, otherwise -- but...

She'd said one thing, and she'd seen it. She'd been looking at him as she'd said it, and she'd seen him put it all together -- she had no idea what it was that he'd realized, but he'd realized something, _something_ incredibly important -- and she'd seen the man behind the con man mask. The _frighteningly intelligent_ man, lurking back there behind his eyes.

And his eyes lied like anything, pretending to be all dumb and stupid and misunderstanding again, now. ...But the twins' eyes didn't. They never did.

But when she turned to them, with the question in her eyes of _'You saw that, right? How was what I said important--'_

\--The twins just looked back at her with a question in their own eyes, asking, _'What's wrong?'_ to her.

It confused her for a moment. but then she realized that what they were reacting to was solely and wholly her _own_ confusion, and not to anything else.

They hadn't reacted to Mr. Pines' thought, whatever it had been, that scary-intelligent flash as he'd grasped _something_ when it had been written large for that mere split-second across the man's face. No. They hadn't even noticed it at all.

And when she looked back up at Mr. Pines, feeling all startled and _frightened_ almost, and starting to shiver--

\--and Stan Pines just looked back at her with that dumb-seeming, slightly dull-eyed wide-eyed sort of questioning look on his face, with that 'I'm just a dumb old con man' look that he always used on everyone else, except for once or twice with her here and there, when the look had let up just a little bit -- but never so very completely, a mask behind the mask--

Pacifica realized, with no small horror, that the con man never actually took his mask _off_ , not even for his own family.

Pacifica swallowed, hard.

She closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and forced herself to calm down.

By the time she'd calmed down a few seconds later, she was ready to open her eyes, take in a deep breath again, and say...

"What am _I_ missing here."

...with a rather shaky breath.

The con man looked at her over his cup, and the look on his face changed, just a little.

"Y'know, the kid went into a whole spiel this morning," the lying man told her, as he swirled the liquid in his cup in his hand. "Talking about how none of us were asking any of the right questions. Crowing out about how none of us were communicating with each other, how he knew you wouldn't be able to take advantage of nothin' 'cause of that, even with Miz having no brain-to-mouth filter on her at all last night, still. Stuff like that." He set his coffee cup down on the table, and slowly got up from his seat at the booth.

"Grunkle Stan…?" Mabel asked, looking up at him.

And Pacifica watched as the liar smiled down at his grand-niece, and gave her a genuine(- _looking_ (??)) smile, as he patted her on the head himself.

"Figure I'd actually better go walk the kid home," the liar told them, "What with Gideon Gleeful still running around and all. Don't want the two of them running into each other, not like _that's_ gonna go well." That got a grimace out of the twins; the old con man, as well. "Stay in sight of Lazy-Eye Susan; don’t go leavin’ the diner ‘til I get back," the old con man told the twins next.

"You--" Pacifica began, still feeling more than a little thrown. Because all these years, all these years and she'd seen little glimpses, here and there, of him not acting like a campy, dumb old, _gross_ old con man 24/7, yes. But _this_ , this… what she had _just seen_ was...

"Figure you two can fill in the rich kid on whatever while I’m getting the kid home, can't ya?" Stan Pines said to Mabel with a smile, messing up her hair again. "Show the triangle who's boss?"

"Boss Mabel!" Mabel called out happily with a grin, punching her fist into the air. "Back in action!"

"Yeah, we can handle it," Dipper said, glancing over at Pacifica with… _something_ in his eyes.

"Yeah? Good," said the old con man, pulling out some dollar bills and tossing them on the table. "Uh," he said, pausing for a moment at the twins' surprise at this… development? "Don't go spendin' it all in one place."

"Yes, free money!" Mabel said, to which she got an 'Oi!' out of the con man as he left, which had _her_ letting out a little giggle at his complaint.

...Pacifica slowly sat down.

"...You okay?" Dipper asked her, and when she looked over at him, she realized...

That look in his eyes? Was concern.

Pacifica let out a breath in a deep sigh, and slumped a little in her seat. Stan Pines wasn't compromised. No. **He** was the one _running_ this whole damn thing. ...And he was _also_ compromised, and scarily-smart, and now Pacifica was going to have to actually start _listening_ to Gideon now, wasn't she… _ugh_ \--

Then, all three of them sat up straight in their seats at the terrible, high-pitched _SCREAM_ they'd just heard.

"That sounded like--" Mabel began, but Dipper and Pacifica were already out of the booth and running.

They _slammed_ their way out of the diner, down the steps, and--

\--and sure enough, there was Gideon and Stan Pines and Bill--

\--and Gideon was _lying down on the ground_ , looking out-and-out _wrong_ somehow, and Bill was holding a _knife_ , and Stan Pines was--

"-- _Really_ , kid?" the old con man drawled out from where he stood next to the demon, as the demon set fire to... Gideon's _hair?_ He was-- He was holding an absolutely **huge** chunk of-- oh my _god_ \--

\--and it all went up in fire and smoke in a flash in his hand, which the demon then waved off with a slightly wrinkle-nosed grimace and his now completely free and hair-free hand, as he flipped the knife in his other hand closed and stowed it away at his back somehow--

""LI'L GIDEON!"" the two ex-prison cons cried out, running forward (...why were they all so dusty? --no, wrong question -- why had they both been so far _back?_ ), dropping to their knees and picking him up between them, to cradle him in their arms rather protectively.

"What?" the demon said, seemingly guileless. "He attacked me first; he's not part of the agreement. He was asking for it, he deserved it, and he got it! It was going to happen _sooner_ or later. Besides," the demon waved off, as Gideon groaned and… his eyes were fluttering oddly, and his body was lying in Ghost Eyes' arms almost as if he was boneless, Pacifica realized, as she ran over to check on him herself. "Llama got that barrier spell up around his house yesterday afternoon. It's fine."

Ghost Eyes glared up at the demon. "You-- you-- How dare you! The boss's poor beautiful hair!"

"Eh, it's an improvement. --Here," said the demon, and he moved forward liquid-fast, and the next thing _any_ of them knew, Gideon went from having next-to-no hair on his head, to _really_ no hair left on his head, and the demon was standing back up and burning the rest of it, same way he did the first. "Happy?"

The other ex-con burst out crying, as Ghost Eyes looked down at Li'l Gideon in shock. "Oh, boss is gonna be _real_ mad when he wakes up."

Bill nodded. "And if you want him to wake up anytime soon, you should get him home _quickly_ ," Bill told him, as if instructing a couple of two year olds. "And _not_ let him leave after that."

Ghost Eyes frowned up at the demon mightily. "And why would we listen to you?"

"Oh, you won't have to listen to me," the demon said, "I'm just stating facts." He splayed his hands to the sides rocked back on his heels, and said next, "You think that kid's going to want to leave the house, when he's looking all bald like _that?_ " He grinned.

The two ex-cons exchanged a look.

"Oh, get goin', you two," Stan Pines said next, pretty grumpily, "Before I go tellin' the kid _I don't think you've learned your lesson yet_."

Pacifica wasn't sure _what_ about those words had been all that threatening, but it sure had these two ex-cons getting up and running off in a hurry, with Gideon Gleeful carried along for the ride.

"--Better give it a week or two!" the demon called out after them brightly, as they both ran off. "Just in case!"

Dipper was fretting anxiously beside Stan. "What happened?"

"Eh, Gideon got mouthy, and I let the kid have at 'im," Stan shrugged off. "Tried siccing his two 'bodyguards' there on him for just standing there and breathing air, the little jerk." Stan snorted. Really, that brat. He could've pretended not to see them and gotten himself around the next corner, or just turned around, hightailed it and ran, but noooo--

Pacifica slowly got back up to her feet from where she'd been kneeling next to Gideon -- before the two ex-cons had run off with him, anyway.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" she asked them both angrily. Because honestly, Gideon was a little jerk at the best of times, and now _she_ was gonna have to be the one to deal with the fallout!

"Hey, he ain't dead," was Stan Pines' response to that, as he turned and started to walk away with the demon right at and by his side. "Hell, how long were you planning that one, kid?" she heard him ask next, to Pacifica's shock.

"Quite a while now!" the demon enthused out matching Stan step for step. "Really, I'd thought old Fordsy would have gotten that barrier spell out there sooner for the rest of them, what with Glasses being so stingy and all," the demon said next, "And here he's only gotten it out to _two_ of them so far? Rude!" -- which almost had Pacifica marching after him next to demand _what in the world he was talking about_.

But she stopped herself first. ...Two steps and a "Wait!!" in.

And let out a shocked breath as she realized what she'd almost done.

"Word of advice, Llama!" she heard called back to her from the demon, which startled her rather badly all over again. "Ask the cat-lady for head scritches, if you want to know so badly! --You won't _regret_ it!!" was his bright reminder, as she opened her mouth, about to call back a confused and almost reflexive _'why??'_

She stared after the demon and the old con man, then turned to the twins, shaking her head in bewilderment and _trying_ almost desperately to understand, what had just happened--

"Uh, we should probably go…" she heard Dipper say, as he pulled down on the brim of his cap. "Great-Uncle Ford's gonna have a fit when he hears about this, and…" he looked to his sister.

"...We should _probably_ be there to help Grunkle Stan with the fallout," Mabel finished for him, looking sorry. They both did, really.

"We'll call you on your phone, okay? Promise," Dipper told her, as they both turned and began to run off after them both.

And Pacifica stood there and stared after them as they went, trying to remember what it was like to breathe.

She'd almost run off after the demon just now, demanding answers. Expecting him to give them to her? Expecting him to...

...It wasn't just Dr. Pines that was compromised here, was it. It wasn't just him. _She_ was also compromised, too. Already. _Somehow._

_'...You won't be able to help it.'_

No. Oh, no. No… it was _worse_ than that. The demon had known what she was doing all along. He'd known what was happening in the Shack. He knew what was happening in town.

He knew what had been happening up at the mansion. He knew. He'd known. (...Had he always known??)

And he didn't _care_. He didn't care at all. It…

Pacifica covered her mouth with her hands, and barely suppressed the bubble of hysterical laughter she was feeling down to a giggle.

It was just a _game_ to him. One that the demon was completely sure that he would win.

Because they were already compromised. All of them were already compromised. Weren't they?

...with maybe the single and sole exception of Old Man McGucket. But even _he_ wasn't trying to kill Bill, which meant that...

... _he_ was basically _useless_. And with the rest of them being already so compromised… no… she couldn't...

"Paz?" she heard at her side, and she looked up at Lazy-Eye Susan. "Are you ready for your shift, honey? It starts in five," the woman told her with a smile, but also something of a slightly-confused look.

"Did… did you _see_ what just happened out here?" Pacifica not quite stammered up at her, almost plaintively.

But the diner waitress just looked down at her, with a slightly bemused smile.

"Well, now," the woman told her rather authoritatively, as she placed a hand on her shoulder. "If Gideon Gleeful hasn't figured out by now that he shouldn't go messing with cats like that, I don't think he ought to be surprised at getting all clawed up by one that's been around the block a few times, if you know what I mean," she was told, with a, "Wink!"

... a cat. She thought the demon was a...

"...Why do you think he's a cat?" Pacifica tried next, rather slowly. Because she knew her boss well enough by now to know that she'd get an intelligible answer, even if the answer _itself_ would be...

"Well, he's got those _beautiful_ eyes," Susan enthused. "And that coloring! So unique!" she enthused at her, as she steered Pacifica up the stairs towards the door of the diner.

"...Right," Pacifica said slowly, then shook herself. Ugh, what was she thinking, letting herself get sidetracked so easily when that _demon_ was just _running around_ and-- she didn't have _time_ for a bunch of boring, normal diner-shift work--

...except all this demon stuff was driving her crazy and a bunch of normal boring work, in their normal, boring town sounded really, _really_ good right about now.

So Pacifica walked along, letting herself be steered by her good-natured boss up the stairs to the diner, and Pacifica asked, "...and his sister?" as they went, because at this point, why not.

"Oh that poor little thing. She's very sweet. It's nice that he adopted her as his own and all, but she really shouldn't pretend to be a cat like he is, you know," Susan told her almost confidentially. "That's just not normal. I don't know why she would do that." And Susan looked almost concerned at this point. "...She seems a little too obedient, too. Must have been through a lot." Was the waitress'... unusual but surprising assessment. Pacifica didn't discount it for that reason, though -- not in the least. Pacifica generally took what Susan said about people very seriously when she assessed them, after having learned that, nine times out of ten, the aging waitress had generally turned out to almost-always be pretty spot-on.

"If she's not a cat, then what is she?" Pacifica asked next, feeling like she was on the cusp of something.

"Well, she's human," Susan said like it was obvious. "But…"

"'But' _what?_ " Pacifica pressed her.

"Oh," Susan said. "Well, if I had to say she was _something_... oh, but it's rude though," she fluttered. "I really shouldn't," she added, waving a fingernail-laden hand at her as they both headed for the back, for Pacifica to change into her work clothes in the staff changing area.

"I won't tell, you know that," Pacifica said, then before Susan could go into her usual 'oh, I really _really_ shouldn't' routine, she took the plunge and added, "You know, if she comes in here again, I really want to be able to waitress her table _properly_."

" _Well_ ," Susan said. She looked around for a moment, checking to make sure no-one else was listening, then whispered to Pacifica rather less loudly than she usually did, "I think she's a bit of a dragon, really, if you ask me. She's certainly not a big cat like him, at all. Not even a little."

Pacifica barely kept a straight face at this.

"...Good to know," she told her boss. Because _apparently_ the demon who wanted them all dead was a _cat_ , but his so-called _sister_ rated somewhere on the order of a _dragon_ instead.

"Maybe more of a dragonling, though," Susan carried on next. "Oh, I'm just not sure what to call the young ones. --I'll have to ask that cutely serious scientist brother of his, the next time that they all come in. ...Poor thing's so confused, trying to be whatever she thinks other people want her to be. I suppose that cat of Stan's will set her straight on the cat front soon enough though -- preferably without a terrible scratching to remind her of it, poor dear," Susan said, looking sad. "But she's not a cat, definitely not one of those. Never will be either; humans just can't be cats no matter how hard they try, and I should know -- I've got three of them!" she smiled at her. But her smile faded as she said, "And fire-breathing dragons aren't cats either, the poor thing. She really should stop trying, I'm sure she'd grow into a lovely little dragon if she'd just let herself be herself, you know. --Might cause a bit of a problem with the cows over by your parents' factory, though. Wink!" she noted with a nod (and said eyelid-wink), before she bustled herself out the door and back to the kitchen, presumably headed back to the main area of the diner...

...leaving Pacifica alone in the changing room area with her own thoughts.

As she changed clothes into her more common-looking (and -feeling) work outfit, Pacifica tried to think about what it all meant. When Susan said things, it generally meant something larger, even if the elder waitress couldn't really unpack or explain it herself. Cats, what were cats? Independent, sure of themselves…

...with claws just like small knives? (...Or big knives, in the case of a 'big'ger 'unique' type of cat? Pacifica shook her head at this.)

And dragons… fire-breathing dragons… what were dragons? Fierce. Protective. They hoarded their gold, their treasure, and killed any who would try to steal it, any who would try to take it from them-- greedily and angrily protecting what they saw as theirs...

Could a (...big?) cat take on a (little?) fire-breathing dragon and win? Did dragons _listen to_ and want to _be_ cats, instead of dragons themselves? ...Well, cats usually got pampered by humans, and dragons usually got people trying to _slay_ them instead, while they were trying to sleep... or nap…?

Pacifica shook her head at herself as she finished tying off her apron. Maybe she was reading too much into this. Dr. Pines _had_ said that demons weren't like humans, and Susan really only was a human herself, while the demons just _weren't_...

...She'd worry about all of this more later. Right now, she had to get in the game. --Waitressing. It was a thing.

Pacifica took a few moments to splash some cool water on her face, wash off the old and don some new makeup in the proper 'waitressing' style, slapped herself lightly on the cheeks twice, then turned and stomped out of the changing room with her head held high. She was a waitress on a mission.

She had gnomes to shoo out of the trash bins with _prejudice_.

...And a broom. She needed the broom. Really _really_ needed the broom for this. --And she made a beeline back for the closet to get it. She didn't want to _think_ about the last time she'd tried to shoo those stupid little buggers away without one...

Pacifica, broom firmly in hand, slammed the back door to the outside and back of the diner firmly closed behind her.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: I can't seem to find the link to that Poke the AXOLOTL game I made... I'm gonna keep looking, it has to be somewhere...  
> (Edit)  
> Nevermind! I found it!  
> [Poke the AXOLOTL](http://orteil.dashnet.org/experiments/idlegamemaker/?game=VxKfqJq3)
> 
> ▂̴̷̴̵̴̴̸̴̷̵̵̷̶̵̶̸̶̴̵̸̷̢̡̨̨̡̢̡̨̢̢̡̧̧̧̢̢̢̨̧̨̢̢̧̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̲̝̠͈̫͍̞̥͚̱̤̹͍̰͖̦̮̙̩̗̬̲̦̝̞̺̹͇̝̣̙̭̠̦̮͈̥̬̲̦̞̝͔̹̙̗̯̹̮̦̩̝̘̻̞̪̙̲͓̟͕̗̥̘͇̯̯̰͎̥̘̖͈͚͎̘̳͍͕̼̫̺̫̝̯͍̩̝͈͍͙̲̳͕̣̼͚̟̪̤̮̲̜̬̬͙̹͈̮̜̬̗̻͕͚͕͔̠̝͚̹̣̣̪̪̥̱̗̙̣͕͈̥̲̋͆̈́̅̇͐͑̿̒̏͒̌͆͂̌̆̇̓̀̋͒̾̃̓̄̏́̾̈́͛̈̾͂̂͋̈́̔͛̃̓̄̒͌̑͗̒̿̉͆̉̌͌̆̓̂̂̆̈́̐͗̽̐͊͑̓͌͐̀̔͛͑̽̿͗͋̔͗̇͒̿̆͌̿̀̅̅̃͆̋̈̎̔͌̿̑͐̿̓̂̍͂͑̆̽̿͌̅̇̈́̿͑̉͂͒̒͆͒̈͌͊̅͌̐̉̈̈͒͋̊̂̆̊͒̌̋̑̿̓̌̽̈́̋̒͛̎̅̈̉̍͘̚̕͘̕̚̕̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅ▂̶̸̵̴̶̵̶̴̶̴̷̶̶̵̶̶̵̴̵̴̵̢̨̨̨̧̨̧̨̧̡̡̢̡̨̢̛̛̛͔̯̞̟̦̠̙̖̹͙̱͔̬̗̫͙̗̣̫̬̰̜̼̫̜̦̲̭͉̤̤͇͎̥̣̖̞͈̥͇̪̝̰͓̜̝̦̺̺̙̳̹̺̺͍̺̻͍̙̟̬͎̘̦̞͚̯̤̫̠̘͔̦̹̟̯̣͉̩͓͚̜͈͈͇̥̺͍̫̣̭͎̞̺͕͕̯̟͔͚̺̤͖̼̠̭̲̰̻̠̙͇̫͔̻͚̖̜͙̝͚̙͕̲̮̣̦̲͙͔̣̱̣͈͖͇̯̝̙̹̎́͐̌̽͆̓̿̈́̓̑̈́̾̂͋̅̂̓̒̐̅̑̃͆͗̽͋͊̀̉̍̋̔̆̾͊͐̿̿͑̈̈̾̋̈̅͆̍͗͌̄̒͒͋͂̓̅͋̂̒̈́͆̉̇̔̊͑̓̇̈̇̄̅͆̆̉͛̿̊̑̓̉̍̂̂̽̎̑̈́̓̃̀̂̆̐̑̀͊̃̌̐̑̄̽̂́̇̋̐̊̓̿̿̀̑̄̀̈́̄̃̎͒̋̈̇̾̉͛̔̂̃͑͛̔̾̎͊̓̔͋̏̃̿̈́̍̓̂̉̅̋͌̓̑͒͑͑̓͂͗̎͐̐̉̓̆̈́̋̆̋̈̊̕̕̕̚̚̚͘̕̕͘͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͠͠͠͠͠͠ͅͅͅ▃̸̴̴̶̸̷̶̶̷̷̶̶̵̵̶̶̴̶̵̷̵̶̸̶̸̵̴̷̡̢̧̧̧̧̨̨̨̨̧̢̧̡̧̨̡̢̨̛̛̛̛̦͇̜̩̱̹͍͔̣͚̤̹̟̦͙̣͍̫͇̠̦̘͈̥͉͍͔̱̖͉̤̼̩̟̟̖͖̝̩̟̼͙̹̹̜̣͖̭̫̱̩̥̫͉̣̬̠̖̲͖̻͈̮̗͚̲̦͎͉̠̙̜͍̯̬͔̯͍̥͎͇͉̳̜̬̝̞̫͈̟̰̬̖͇̦͈͉̙̦͍̙̺̺̦̭͓͚̜̝̟̘̠̞̜͓̮͎̤͕̩̖͎̦̣͍͇̬̮̤̯͙̻̦̜̩̣͚̤͓͎͉̘̭̖͇̻̣͈͉̺̲̞͕͍̤͉̟̫̦̺̦̩̝͎̪̭̖͕͖͉͔̝̘͓̞̻̲̪͖̗̭̖̬̲̥̹̜̫̙͚̫̪͓͚͕͍̺͂̿͆̾͒̔͒͑̆͑̇̿̃̓̿̑͑̃͊̈͛̉̓̒͆̈́̒̃̈́͐̊̏̈́̿̇̂͆͊͋̈́̄̂̈̇̉̎͛̊̉͌̐̒̊̅͛͌̓̐̿͑̄͛̓̐̓͒̍̉̾̾̀̄̾̄̐̅̊͋͛̊̿̓̀͌̐̈́̒̈̈́̿̏͂̔͛̅̏̽̀̒̇́̐̃̓͗̈́̒̍̋́͂̓̈́̈̐̆̍̈́̾͌͂̅͌͐́͆̾̿͐̂͒͂͆̅͌̍̐̈͂̆̔̂͌̎̂̓̌̈́͋͂͆̈́̓̈́́̓̅̄̑͂̓̈́͑̂̆̇̊͐̔͗̀̏̃̊̌̈́̋̓͐̋̀͑̋̈́̀̎͒͆̇̀̑̉̈́͆͘̕̕̚͘̚̕̚͘͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ▃̴̴̶̶̴̸̶̴̶̷̵̷̷̵̴̸̴̴̵̶̸̶̡̧̡̧̧̢̡̨̡̡̛̛̛̛̛͈̥̬̩̞͈̤̭͎̱̹͔̱͈̭̼̳̺̘̱̤̟̦̬̱͇͍͕̲͕̬̻̰̟͚͉͇̯̯̦̝̳̳̠̤̞̯̣͉̪͙̥̘̭̝̥̱͍̤͙̗̯̺͙͎̳͇̺̤͙̘̻̟̦̖͕̬̦̯̠͖̬̞͖̻̦̪͙̬̗̰̳͓͉̱̮̹͕̠̪͇̙̗͉̼̫͇̠̟̘̮͎̩͖̞͚̥̪̝͉̗̖̩͎̠̥͓͈̰̺̹͖͍̝͖̫͈̪̺̖̦̮̥̻̤̗͉̻̩̲̮̪̜̱̜̮̙̭̊͆͑̂̎͌̅̀͑͑̆̀̀͗̂͆̍̑̑͑̊͛̎̎̓̀̓́̀͒͊̑̔̈̌̌͊̇̒̋̅̀̈́̐̽̐̇͆̆̑̇̽͆͌̔̈́̔͌̉͊̔́͆̾́̑̌̑̅̇͂̍̋̆͋͒̐̅̃͗͂̏͆̀͋͐̉̆̄͂̊̂̅̒̑͒͑̑̽́̏͐̒̌̏̈́͊̓̐̆͗́̃̔́̒͐̐̔͌̑͑͑̾͂͗̑̐̒̈́̉̿̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅ▄̶̴̵̶̴̶̴̴̶̵̶̷̶̵̸̶̴̸̶̵̷̶̡̧̢̢̧̡̢̡̡̧̢̨̡̧̢̨̧̛̛͎͎͇̮̭͎͖̖̥̹̹̣͈̩̗̞̻̼͓̣͚̝͔̩̙̫̼̳̦͕̭̮̦͚̤̦̻̙̟̟̹̙̘̱̘̜̲͉͍̖͎͓̙̙̦̞͔͉̹̣͚̲͉̯̣͉̩̱̥͓͖͓͚͔̫͕̼͍͇̯̙͙͖͓̳̱̭̪͍̮̩̪̪̹̗̹̖͈̼̻̣̫̥̣̗̲̺͈̹̯̲͚̦͖̩̥͍̥̣͎̩̪̞̪͙̼̫̘͓̥̝̖͎̩̠̬̺̳͉̣͖̱̞͕͚̭͓̻͍̗̝̩̞͙̙̇͑̑͑̊̌̾͋̾̎̈́̽̊̏͌͗̒͒̓̊͆͋̒̌͌̋͊͂̾̃͐͊̐̒̒̀͗̄̌̏͆͊̌͂͒̏̄̋̎̑̒̒̆̔̇̇̽̽̈́̍̇̽̋͛̃͊̈́̒͒̈́̓̑̾̏̽̆̈́̄͋̇̽̇̄͒̑͋͋̍̈́̉͊͒̾͊̐͛̒̂̆͆́̈́͂̊̆̒̀̽͌̈́͗͋́̒̐̃̅͆̿͑͒̃̈̚̕̚̚̕̕̕̕̕͘̕͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ▄̴̸̵̷̸̴̶̶̸̶̶̷̵̶̶̨̧̨̡̨̧̨̨̢̧̡̢̧̢̨̨̡̛̛̛̹̤͓̞̩̣̮̘͇͖̹̥͍̣̳̣͙͓̪̖͈̲̟͍̯̫͇̟͎͈͚͎̥͎͙͍̖͇̼̤͚̭̦̗̮̠͇͇̟̞̥̯͓͕̹͎͉̳̳̘͚̪͉̙̼̙͉̬͉̹̬͎̘̹̦̖̼͉̭̪͎̹̦̳̰̩͓̤̥̼̻̩̦̱̰̯̱̼͎̭̠͔̼̼̤̣̾͋̄̎̈̓͊̍̐̅̅̓̾̈́̋̈́̔̈́̅͌̓̔͐̓̓̄̍̑̍̏͌͂̀̎͗̒̽̄͐̈́̋̍̈́̿͌̈́́̊̄̂̈́̈́́̈̊͐̈́͂̉̑̄̐͋͌͗̽̑̏̈́̋͋͛̆̀̋͒͐͒̑̓͛͑̆̅̀͌͆̆̇̑̓̇̽̾̄̑͌̊͌͛͌̊̾̄͌͑̅͌̽͑͂̏͘̚̚̚͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅ▅̴̴̴̸̷̷̷̷̶̴̢̧̧̨̢̨̨̛̛̛̹̻͈̦̤̹̤̼̘̰̪͍̪̞̣̙̱̮̘͖͈̻̹̫̰͕͇̱͖͙̫̝̟̝̜̦̳̙͍͕̞͎̭̮̪̳͇̥͖͉̭̙̤̬͇̘̪̻̹͔̤͙̩̩̻̲͇̠̍̀̾͒̇̌̑̉̋͂̇͊̐͌̍̿̎͒̅̑̆͗͛͐́͋̿̊̔̓̄̃̑̃̒͊̊͗̈̈́̏̐̀͂͋͊̍̊̽̋͌̅̋̒̔̐̑̈̐̍̆̌͋͋͋̂͌̽̔͐͗̓͛̎͑̀͛̊̋̐͆̐͗̊͗̽͗̅̈́̾̾͌͆̔̆̕̚̕͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅ▅̷̶̷̷̸̵̶̸̵̷̸̶̸̷̶̸̴̸̢̨̢̧̧̢̢̨̢̢̛̛͇̹̳͔̝͈̼̗̦̱̪̥͈͇̗͚̱̭̪͈̠̯̣̞̹̠͇̪̣̻͖̝̲͖̱̣̗̝̙̟̞̫̗̺̫͉̹͕̭͕̣͔̝͙̣̭̭̥̜̭̗̱͕̳͔͈͓̩̦̪̬͎̺̱̬̘̘͍͎̯̘͎̯̖̫̘̰̻̩̝͕̱̣̤̤͚̟̤͕̭̘͍̝̱̥̓̎̂̈́͂̅̈́͊͑̈́̂̈́̍̋̎̾͂̅̇̍̓͑̆͂̈̇̓̂̌͛͆͆̇͋̈́̋̍̑͊̂̀͆̓̈́̉̍͋̂́̋͑̓͐̔̾͌̅̋̿̐̋́͛̓͐̋̑̉͌̉͊̓̊̏̒̂͒̏͐͛̂͆̑̍̓͘̚̕͘͘̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ
> 
> **My AN:**  
> ...Yeah I dunno what that other Zalgo-text thing is supposed to be. (Also, congrats Pacifica, you just realized that you're just about as compromised as Ford is. (--in the same way, even! *g* _Fooooooooreshadowing…_ ;)


	33. Chapter 97: You’re probably wondering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Another Bill? Well, of course, that's the point!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 115 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/49763681). It was first posted on Oct 7, 2019.

\----

Miz pressed her ear against the Door. She didn’t hear any buzzing. She knocked on the Door carefully without opening it. Waited. No buzzing. The glitch-Bill had finally left. Okay. She turned to her brother and smiled. "Today’s the day. Should we go tell Stan?" Bill nodded his head, then shook it from side-to-side. " _I’ll_ go talk to him about it. _You_ stay here and wait for me."

"And I’ll get the barrier set up," Miz told him. Bill grinned, nodded, and pat-pet her on top of her head ~~affectionately~~ with a small smile. Bill had been showing her how to do things his way, all the ways that he thought were the 'best-worst' (and most efficient) way to do them. Miz didn't use them all, since a few of her own ways worked better for her, but she liked learning from him anyway.

(And Bill, for his part, didn't mind that she liked using her own ways of doing things better. When she said it was easier for her to do it her way, he believed her; he just knew that that might not always be the case -- case in point, things being far more difficult for her to do here -- and he was just happy to give her as many completely different ways as _he_ could think of to do the same thing, in the hope that if she ever found herself in a situation where her usual powers didn't seem to be working for her correctly -- if at all -- that she'd have as many possible _other_ fallbacks to fall back on that at least _one_ of them would end up always-and-still working out for her, still.)

Bill had even taught her his way for fixing those tears in reality. They'd fixed those already -- this morning, in fact. Not that any of the Pines seemed to have remembered that that had been an issue that needed solving...

(...and it was yet another thing that Bill had wanted to show his little sister how to do, given what she'd said about her own singular human-Earth-containing dimension, for multiple reasons. Bill had also made sure to make them all _LOOK_ the same by 'sticking' those sticky-glue remnants in space, hovering above the ground, once he was done with each of them, just in case anybody went looking. He didn't want anyone to be able to tell that anything had been done to them at-a-glance, let alone easily differentiate between the ones that he'd gone and closed up _completely_ , and the few that he'd _not_ gone ahead and already 'fixed' up ' _permanently_ ' -- just-and-only merely _stabilized_ in place -- for a reason…)

They already had a picnic blanket and basket set up near the edge of the forest in the 'yard' of the Shack as a reward to themselves for their own not-talked-of-to-others work that they'd just completed that morning, half in and out of a pleasantly-warm ray of sunbeam and otherwise half-covered by the shadows being cast by the trees overhead. A perfect picnic spot as it were.

If they were going through a Door, they’d leave their bodies behind, and with the unicorn barrier around the shack, it’d be a problem to get back inside to their bodies if they left them up in the attic in there (more like, it’d be annoying for both Miz _and_ her brother). So their plan was to have a ‘picnic’ outside and simply… take a nap. And of course all sorts of protections needed to be in place to protect their discarded bodies from possession or harm. This was what Miz was setting up right now -- a barrier of their own, keyed to keep out anything and anyone who wasn’t the two of them.

Meanwhile, Bill went inside to talk to Stanley about what they were going to be attempting to do quite shortly, if everything stayed clear on the Door front before they left.

\---

"Miz and I are gonna have a picnic near the woods today," Bill announced to the kitchen as a whole, as he put a kettle of water on the stove for heating to boiling, before he took in a breath and said next: "And we would like to remain undisturbed for the length of said outing."

Stan glanced up from his newspaper from where he was sitting at the table. Yeah, he'd gotten the message loud and clear, there. (Hell, he was surprised that Ford wasn't looking more suspicious about it. Not that he'd been able to talk the kid into a 'code phrase' that was even a _little_ more subtle than that. Crazy triangle. He lowered his paper to look over it at him, then raised it again and said, "How long you think you're gonna be out there?"

(Ford, standing at the counter and nursing a suspiciously not awakening-feeling cup of (likely decaf) coffee, saw the long look that Stan had given the triangle demon, and looked between the two of them suspiciously. _Since when_ did Bill announce when he was going to be spending time with his demonic 'sister' outside, in the general vicinity of the Shack? Let alone anyplace else?)

The kid didn't even seem to have to think about it. "A few hours," he said. ...Yeah, that wasn't surprising. Kid and the dragon-lady had said that this first one was only supposed to be a quick trip out and then back, after looking around at some stuff. So Stan nodded to him and said, as half a reminder… "Have _fun_. Stay out of trouble."

"HA! _'Trouble'_ better stay out of _us!_ " the kid cackled out like the happy lunatic demon-kid that he was, before turning on his heel and began to rummage through the cupboards for who knew _what_ the heck else that the kid thought he needed for this 'picnic' of his. Stan let out a sigh and flipped out his newspaper a little bit. Demons...

As soon as the kid finished up with grabbing a few teacups, mugs, and saucer-plates, along with significantly more forks and paper towels and stuff than even Stan was expecting the kid to go for, causing Ford to go from giving him a thinking glare to a frown… the whistle finally went off on the kettle, and the kettle and the whole stack of tableware and junk promptly ended up in the kid's hat (the eyepatch-one).

And as soon as the kid had not quite raced off upstairs, for who knew what else, casually walking over to the staircase but then taking the stairs themselves two or three at a time… once the kid was out of direct earshot, Ford grimaced, turned to him, and said, "Stan…"

"It’s fine, Ford," was Stan’s gruff reply. But at the look his brother was still giving him (and had been giving him ever since he’d told the kid to ‘have fun’), Stan sighed and told him, "Ain't nothin' they're doin' that I don't know about and haven't talked about with the two of 'em before, okay," he said next.

At this, Ford's frown deepened. "What are they up to, then?" he asked his brother suspiciously. Because that told him absolutely nothing, and--

"It’s fine, Ford," Stan repeated. "Don't go worryin' about it."

Ford stared at his brother for a little, then drew himself up and started to stalk off for the porch, coat billowing all _dramatically_ behind him as he stated, "I'm going outside to keep an eye on the two of them."

"Yeah? You do that," Stan told him, completely unconcerned.

Ford didn't quite stop in place at that, but his pace did slow down a lot for a moment, as he turned his head to give Stan a frown over his shoulder for a long moment. But then he turned away again and slammed his way out the door of the Shack and out onto the porch, picking up steam all over again.

Stan sighed.

(Ford was _not_ going to just leave the two demons to their own devices -- not when they were so clearly and obviously up to no-good. He wasn't an idiot, though. He wasn't about to attempt to directly insert himself between them, given the sheer folly of such a thing; he was going to watch them both a safe distance away from them, out on the porch of the Shack instead, remaining under the barrier and far away enough that no-one could possibly complain that he was intruding on their so-called 'picnic' in some way. Luckily, they were close enough that he could still see them right at the edge of the treeline to the forest where they were having their picnic (which, quite frankly, made the whole situation all the more suspicious to him…).

Stan glanced up as Mabel and Dipper re-entered the kitchen from the Shack’s gift shop. Neither of them looked hugely happy with him still, given what had happened this morning. (Yeah, when the kid had started getting all… _pointed_... and ‘edgy’... talking about stuff from the night before that morning, Stan had gone and tried asking for a transcript of stuff again, even though he knew the kid hadn’t been in the room, and about three-quarters sure that the kid wouldn’t want to fess up to having bugged the rest of the Shack out (except for the bathrooms and bedrooms and basement) to the rest of them, like he had him. Except Stan had held out his hand and gotten one. The kid had done it. He’d done it for him right on the spot. He honestly hadn’t thought the kid would give up the goods like that in front of the rest of them all, but the kid had. Maybe the kid had been trying to make a point of some kind, but Stan wasn’t sure what exactly the kid was going for here, yet. He wasn’t even sure if the point had been more for the niblings, or the kid’s own sister.

"Yeah?" Stan asked of his grand-niece and -nephew, as they came up to the table (and the kid came down the stairs quietly -- _that_ was new -- behind their backs), and they exchanged a glance between them.

"Pacifica wants to talk with you sometime," Dipper told him, as the demon-kid just as quietly walked up behind them, and...

"If she wanted to talk, she would have stayed for breakfast," the kid said right behind Dipper, and Dipper jumped nearly a foot.

"-- _Bill!_ " Dipper complained, but Stan just reached out and put a calming hand on Dipper’s shoulder, while sighing, and said, "Kid, I think little miss rich girl there probably wants to talk to me _without_ you around. Yeah?"

"Hm," said Bill, eyeing him back.

Stan mostly ignored that one as he took the phone Mabel had extended to him from her. "Well, you two are off your grounding, bein’ stuck at the Shack," he told them both, "But you’re still gettin’ babysat," Stan added, trying to quash their good mood a bit, because they’d looked far too excited with those grins and that ‘yes!’ and ‘hey-yo!’ along with that high-five slap, right there. Stan looked back down at the phone as he started typing. "She’s got her shift at the diner today, right? We could meet her there; get you two a late brunch-lunch thing, or somethin’."

"... _The diner?_ " Stan heard the kid say next, sounding way _way_ too interested and engaged in it and all that shit, right as Stan hit that ‘send’ key, and Stan’s head came up; he was feelin’ full-on grumpy on this one.

"Kid," Stan told the demon-kid, as he handed Mabel back her phone, "You got a _picnic_ you’re doin’ with your sister, already," he reminded him. " _You_ stay _here_ with your sister and let me do my whole ‘takin’ point on the agreement’ thing, yeah?" he told him, looking up to give the kid a stony look. Because hey, _somebody_ had to talk the Northwest girl down, and _that_ wasn’t gonna happen easy if the kid came along with, Stan was pretty damn sure.

"Hm," said the kid pretty damn noncommittally, before turning away and wandering off (to who knew where else in the Shack, since it didn’t look like he was headed for any of the doors outside), and Stan stifled a sigh. ...Great. So, that was maybe a fifty-fifty toss-up on whether or not the kid would actually stay here, instead of following them down.

"C’mon, you two," Stan told both Dipper and Mabel, as he slowly stood up from his chair. "Let’s get going."

\---

Miz set up the barrier and waited for her brother to come back.

And waited.

And waited.

And… where the heck was he?

Fighting down the worry, Miz Flickered and Saw...

What?! No fair! He went back to the diner without her? Miz whined and sat down on the picnic blanket. And he was talking to Stan, the twins, and... Pacifica. Ah, okay. Yeah. Miz could see why he thought this would have been important. She was still annoyed that he’d essentially stood her up for their multiversal scouting mission (picnic date), though.

Whatever. She would just wait for him to come back. They were already heading back now.

That didn't mean Miz didn't pout at her brother when he finally showed up though, despite his confusion at her annoyance at the (apparently short duration _to him_ ) hour-long delay. (Though, to her amusement, that Stanford -- who was spying quite obviously on them -- seemed just as disgruntled by Bill's tardiness.)

She wondered, however, at her brother’s further confusion at her _continued_ annoyance despite his handing over of what felt to her like a ‘bribe’ of both diner-obtained apple pie (solely for her, since it contained things like added sugar that he wouldn’t eat) and hot water with various loose-leafs for tea from the Shack kitchen, with assorted utensils and tableware to support their imbibement of both.

"I needed to take care of a thing," Bill told her, still not understanding why she was so annoyed with him. "If I didn’t take care of it _now_ , either Llama or the living ventriloquist dummy _or both_ could have ended up here, trying to ruin our picnic and everything else," he told her, frowning. "I said I was getting more supplies for the picnic, not just talking with Stanley. How long did you think I would take?"

At her, "Five minutes! Or at least _tell_ me if you’re going to take longer, and _when_ you’ll be showing up! Not telling me is-- It’s _rude!!_ " her brother _finally_ seemed to start to get it, as his expression went from a frown to a startled raised-eyebrows look.

"Hmm…" Bill hummed out, thinking. He hadn’t thought he’d need to give her a _time_ for when he’d be ready to start the picnic. An hour hadn’t seemed too long, and… well, _Liam_ had never given _him_ times for things when they’d done them together. Bill had either tried dropping in on him in his room out of nowhere, and they’d just… talked? And played? Or Liam had told him not to disturb him because he was working on things for awhile, and Bill had just waited until Liam had been ready to come out and see _him_ again. And Bill _was_ a big-brother. And Miz was his… little _sister?_ ...Maybe it was different for little sisters? Nora _had_ seemed a bit more impatient, overall. HMMMMMMMM...

"I think I understand," Bill told her. "If I am doing a thing with you, or if I need to do a thing without you, I will tell you in-advance and try to give you a working time when the thing with you will start, or when my thing without you will be done. And I will let you know if I need more time at the time that the working-time expires, if I need it," Bill ended. Though he was usually pretty good at his how-long-something-would-take estimates; he was usually pretty conservative in those, and it had been a _VERY_ long time since he’d blown past any of those, for a reason.

Miz’s pout finally went away and she smiled. "Alright, I don’t mind waiting, just give me a heads up next time. Then I could have gotten something to entertain myself with while I was waiting."

Bill nodded. He understood a little better now. Miz got bored easily; she had far more trouble ‘ _just_ watching and waiting’ than he did.

"Picnic now?" Bill asked, pointing down at all the food, and Miz nodded quite happily. She set about setting everything up, glad to be able to just hang out with her brother, even if they both had an ulterior motive for it.

(And the mischievous part of her loved the baffled expression on Ford's face when they just did picnic stuff. Eating the snacks, pointing out clouds and what they looked like, cuddling… yeah, Ford looked really annoyed at them! Hah!)

\---

"...Ready?" Bill grinned out at her, once Miz had finished the last of the pie, and a cup of tea to go with it. (He’d finished a good while before her, needing less energy overall than she did, still.) This was only going to be a quick trip out to search for information.

Miz nodded at him, and then the two demons laid themselves down comfortably on the blankets, after putting away the remnants of the lunch that Miz had made for the both of them. They curled around each other as per usual for their sleeping arrangements.

Then Miz took a deep breath and pushed herself out of her vessel, then turned around and pulled gently on Bill... until he slipped out of his human-ish body, too.

And Bill let her do it. That was the whole point, really -- not forcing it, his ‘removal’, at all.

Bill _felt_ the line from his anchor play out a bit -- just like he’d discussed with Stanley -- and… he felt the familiar ‘chill’ of no-sensation of the Mindscape once again, as his senses quickly spread out exponentially around him. Something was a little… odd, though. He just couldn’t _quite_ put his finger on...

Bill looked down at himself in the Mindscape.

His Mindscape-self looked like his physical human-ish-formed body.

...Hm. He’d _wondered_ if this might happen. ...Well, it should be fine. It _HAD_ been a probable consequence of keeping the anchor and doing it this way, and he should know!

Miz and Bill both watched and waited to see if anything was going to go wrong, and…

Nothing happened; Bill didn’t start glitching, despite the fact that his own form in the Mindscape was still keeping to his human-ish body’s form. The anchor stayed firm, but insubstantial; Bill could trace it, even if Miz didn’t seem able to -- which was also good. His Eye didn’t _quite_ feel sore, but he knew he was going to have to be careful not to do anything _too_ strenuous overall, as he Looked around. No Scanning a trillion dimensions all-at-once for him, for need-it-RIGHT-NOW-information and safe-routes-and-outs and all the rest of it; he’d have to take his _time_ , instead. --Good thing he wasn’t planning on fighting with anything or anyone, out on _this_ trip! They were planning on doing this slow; no lightning-quick retrievals or hard-and-fast scans on this little ‘pleasure jaunt’ -- not _THIS_ time.

After another few long moments, Miz mimicked a sigh of relief. So far so good. She took Bill’s hand (he ‘held’ hers back gently, with the bare minimum of weirdness-force he could exert to ‘trap’ something at this level of existence -- not wanting her to feel actually _captured_ in the Mindscape itself, but also knowing that she liked the feeling of no-sensation here even _less_ than **he** did), and Miz tapped open the Door.

They were sucked through together without incident.

Miz peered around the Void of Doors. This would be Blue's first time seeing it. He was staring around. Miz was in her triangle form (since she hadn’t bothered to ‘change’ her mental image of herself).

Miz noted, as she started moving away from it, that Bill’s Door was larger than her own by a few inches on each side. Huh, she hadn’t noticed the Doors were different sizes before. Miz was reading the words on various doors. She wanted to explore, she wanted to find Seb. He was from the Triplet AU section but… there were so many Doors there, too!

Bill glanced around carefully, while keeping a metaphysical ‘eye’ (really, at least part of _all_ his senses) attuned to any possible glitchy-ness in the immediate and surrounding area, as well as its farther-out environs. ... _Interesting._ This place…

Miz was floating up to a Door and reading the plaque. " _Another_ mermaid AU? Ugh… what the heck?! A Lion King AU?! Bill Cipher saves Christmas? Where are these all coming from?!" she glanced around, keeping an eye out for any trace of that buzzing monstrocity. "Hey brother? Would you mind if we just go check out a few of these just for fun?"

Bill shrugged -- he was here to listen and See and learn, more information was always better, he’d _like_ to know more -- and as he floated along, not sensing any more danger here (which Miz seemed to have almost forgotten about at this point, but he hadn’t -- it had been yet another reason he’d wanted them to take their time, while leaving the Door waiting and floating there for them, and why taking at least an hour or two before heading out had seemed like a natural thing to him -- he’d wanted to see if the glitchy-Bill came wandering back once the Door was there long enough, or if it-or-they were actually and truly gone…), and Bill read the words along the doors with interest. --So, each one of these led straight to another Bill Cipher, did they? HMMMMMMMM...

Then Bill saw the words on one door out of the corner of one of his eyes and paused. He turned slowly towards it, his eyes going wide as he realized that, no, he had _NOT_ misread it...

The door Bill was standing in front of said simply: [Anti-verse]. Bill grimaced and immediately turned away and marched his way down the corridor, fists clenched at his side while refusing to look behind him. (Oh no. No no no! --No he did NOT want to think about 'anti’-Bill maybe being-- ~~another him and that door might just belong to that being's old dimensional set _or did it lead to HIS set now too_~~ _NO NO NO_ \--)

~~Stupid purple _square_ couldn't _POSSIBLY_ be another him--~~

Miz was floating up to look at a door reading [ReverseFlatland] and tilted her body in confusion. What would that even mean? "Hey brother? Wanna check out what this one is?"

Bill marched right up to her, looking not all that well and not even bothering to glance at the door first as he said, "YES! Let’s go! RIGHT now! -- _Leaving!_ "

Miz raised an eyebrow before shrugging and tapping the door. It opened easily and the two of them were quickly sucked inside.

\----

There was an odd feeling, like she was heading towards the Bill that this door led to before encountering some resistance. Miz squeaked as she tumbled through the air and landed gracelessly (as per usual) against the side of a large circular object. She groaned and slid down what HAD to be another freaking barrier. She shook her head and looked down to get her bearings. She seemed to have hit… the Mystery Shack again!?

Except… "Oh my spud!" she gasped. It was the Shacktron! Full robot Shacktron fighting with a giant… human-shaped Bill Cipher?! Miz glanced around quickly and saw that the people piloting the giant robot were… Shapes. Ohhh… so that’s what it meant by ReverseFlatland.

Well, she didn’t feel like dealing with some… weird alternative Weirdmageddon right now, so she felt around and opened a Portal so she could leave and come back at a different time.

Miz glanced over at Bill, who was staring at the surreal scene in front of him. "Brother? Are you coming? I want to go back to an earlier time so I can properly learn about what this Dimension is about." After all, that’s what they were here to do, inspect and learn how different dimensions were run for Miz to _fix_ her own, considering the worlds behind her Doors weren’t all run by the same AXOLOTL.

Bill was still mentally off-balance from that information: that there might be more than one _separate_ AXOLOTL. He'd never considered the possibility; it hadn’t seemed a possibility. But when Miz had Looked to See his stupid lizard and mentioned that the _thing_ she’d Seen was nothing like her own… she had seemed legitimately upset, having thought ALL the Axolotl were connected. (Well, she wasn’t the only one -- Bill was ‘upset’, but for an entirely _different_ set of reasons!) That assumption was why _she_ had thought Bill’s Ax might have cared (which was not true at all!), because hers had cared (but did it _really?_ )… and the idea that there were MORE THAN ONE Axolotl, who WEREN’T connected to each other…

...that the Rules Bill knew the Axolotl to play by might NOT be universal…

Bill shuddered. That’s why _he’d_ had to come and See it for himself. And this was _much_ more dangerous to him personally than he'd told Stanley before. Because if there WAS a _proactive_ Axolotl out there, somewhere...

Then Bill had no idea what it might do, or how stupid it might-or-might-not be in WHAT it did, in what ways and means and respects that intelligence could be measured against stupidity. And it wasn't as though Bill had some innate defense against being impacted or _changed_ in some way by an other-Axolotl…

Bill knew all this, of course. And he was taking the risk anyway, whether he liked it or not, whether he _did_ anything or not, because multiple Axolotls DID exist. So if he didn't See for himself what he could See _NOW_ … then he'd just get blindsided by everything _later_. Eventually. ...Except he didn't know how far off 'eventually’ actually was, because he didn't _KNOW_ enough. He didn't know **anything at all** about this; not _really_. --AND HE NEEDED TO KNOW **NOW**.

Except he couldn't do that here-and-now, with this stupid-looking nonsensical funhouse-mirror version of his own Weirdmageddon going on, right here. --It was too _distracting!_

So (Blue)Bill followed Miz into the Portal to re-enter this dimension over 40 years prior, as she went off to see what had happened here and how it had all come to be. To figure out how this dimension worked.

It was Flatland… but not. (Not like Bill's home dimension; it was more like… and Bill watched Miz as) Miz watched the lives of the shapes. The Zodiac of this world -- in particular, Stanley and Stanford Pines. They were two triangles born to square parents. Twins. The child should have been a square but twins meant the square that 'should-have-been’ had split in half. A square split diagonally into two isosceles triangles. But they were still… squares. Should have been squares if only they hadn't been twins. Filbrick hated them both.

Bill noted the way that Miz trembled with anger at the way the older square had treated his children. _Well_ , at least, the hierarchy was _far_ less strict here than it had been in his dimension. (Not that 'twins’ had ever been a thing there.) Here, shapes could actually rise above their station, more like Miz's dimension; even though the twins were isosceles triangles, they were tested for intelligence, the reasoning being that perhaps they could have been smart enough to be more than their unfortunate shape. Stanford tested well, incredibly well. His intelligence caught attention from the higher Shapes. Stanley, on the other angle, wasn't one for book smarts, and those tests weren’t meant-or-made to properly measure the inner-sides and capabilities of someone like him.

So Stanley was slated to be sent off to do labor work for the rest of his life, like all the other isosceles. Meanwhile, Stanford would have a chance to try and impress some judges sent by the council. If he impressed them, he would be allowed to rise above his station. Maybe even up to the rank of a pentagon due to his test scores. And if that happened, it looked to Miz like the twins would be separated for good; Stanley would never be allowed to see his brother again.

Miz was biting her lip, worrying over the unfairness of it all. Bill could tell she wanted to interfere. But they were merely observing for now. Any changes could be made later. But she admitted quietly to him, as they watched, that in her own Flatland, the Council had forbidden her from ever seeing her brother again, because she was to be risen in rank and taken away from her family. Just like this Stanford would be. But Miz had rejected that. She hadn't wanted to leave her brother.

...unlike this Stanford. Bill watched as Miz struggled to talk herself through it. To make excuses for this Stanford here. How, ‘no, that wasn't right.’ How this Stanford didn't want to leave Stanley, but cared about raising his rank MORE than staying with his brother. Stanley was clearly upset, feeling like he was being abandoned.

With how upset that Miz was feeling now, and knowing how she’d reacted to his own Sixer with anger at similar seeming ‘injustices’, Bill made it a point _not_ to bother to point out that this isosceles Stanford wasn't even considering how raising his own rank could potentially help his younger twin, born second instead of first. How, if he reached a rank equivalent to a pentagon, he could request laborers to help him with his work, with the way that things were set up here; how he would be in a position to influence the choices of fellow 'colleagues’ in their choices of workers as well. Even if he was refused in his choice to pick his own brother by those higher up the hierarchy, while trying to follow the rules of the system as it existed currently in this Flatland here, Bill could see quite clearly that that isosceles Stanford might still end up having the pull in the future to potentially influence others at his rank-level to get that Stanley a better position in labor closer to himself, one that would allow them to be closer together, to see each other still.

But Bill knew how Miz tended to respond when she was angry, and the sorts of things that made her that angry. And Bill could See that Stanford's thoughts from the Mindscape, too. Bill saw how that isosceles had thought of his little brother's position and lot in life _not at all_ , once it had looked like he himself would be getting a chance at what he himself wanted. That Stanford-triangle simply didn't care. --Not enough to consider even so much as working within the system to make things better for his twin, let alone _breaking_ anything for him! Not even a single solitary thought towards Rebellion against those who were giving neither of them any _REAL_ choices at all. Limiting them both.

And it wasn’t like that Stanley-triangle was thinking of bucking the system in any meaningful way, to try and stay with his own brother, either.

And so, Bill let out a frustrated mental sigh at the pair of those ‘twins' -- flat minds, flat thoughts, always and all of them FLAT -- and Bill turned his back on the two of them, as he had done many times before with other Stanleys and Stanfords he had Watched. He'd stay there with Miz as she Looked at what she wished, so she would have him there to support her, so she wouldn't be alone. But as far as Bill was concerned, he had other, more important things to do.

...Like what they had come there to do in the first place -- to Look at the local Axolotl and the Rules and _structure_ of this dimensional set, to see how similar or different it was from each of their own.

(Besides, if they wanted to go and change things later… if Bill wasn't the one doing the Looking, to See what was happening, it wouldn't necessarily require a nonlinear time loop to ‘fix’ anything later, to prevent the dimension from ceasing to exist or spawning new timelines. (If that happened, then that other human-looking Bill's Zodiac wouldn't exist anymore, and he might never get out; it would be far more likely that that Shacktron fight they'd both seen upon entry might never happen.) If _he_ Looked at things, he'd See himself if he tried to do anything -- there was nothing he could do to hide himself from himself; he'd made sure of that a long time ago. Alternately, if Miz was the one doing the Seeing, Miz could lie or be vague to him about what she'd Seen -- and then he'd help her do the things she wanted to do, that she would have then Seen them already do in the same way that she’d Seen them, because he had already decided that that was what _he_ was going to do -- help her change anything that she wanted to change here later. And if there was anything she Saw that was something simple but confused her? _Well_ , then it would have been something that he had done in such a way that she hadn't Seen _him_ do it. Q.E.D.)

So Bill stopped trying to See what Miz was Seeing. Bill turned away.

And Bill Looked Up.

\----

Meanwhile, Miz was getting pretty invested in the lives of the twins. Stanley had tried to talk to his brother and Stanford had said he was getting a great opportunity. He couldn't give up this chance. A chance to be more than just the lowest of the low.

"But what about me?" Stanley asked. Stanford paused. His brother would be left behind. He was JUST a triangle after all. An average, unintelligent triangle. He wasn't like Stanford, who had this rare, precious chance to make something of himself.

"You'll be fine." Stanford said dismissively. "You'll be given your job by the council like everyone else." He turned away, off to go work on his project some more, make sure it was perfect. Stanley stared after his brother, numb and shocked that he was so easily dismissed. "But…" Stanley slumped over.

And then Stanford walked off, left his brother to go back to working on his project, putting this whole issue behind him. Stanley sighed. So, even his own brother thought he was nothing more than a stupid triangle. He tried hard not to get mad. He WAS stupid after all. Stanley stayed out long into the night, thinking, getting more and more upset. As he thought, he wandered, ending up in the room with the science project. It was a small building that the Council had set up for Stanford to work in.

There on the table was Ford's invention. A perpetual motion machine, which Ford had told him before would change the way that all the factories worked. With a machine capable of generating endless energy, they would no longer have to burn coal to boil water to power their generators. It would revolutionize the world! Stanley didn't really understand it, but he figured it must be something important.

Stanley stared at the spinning object. It didn't seem all that impressive to him. Sure, it spun and spun, but it wasn't put together very well. Stanford was terrible at working with his hands on mechanical stuff. Stanley was better at that, having worked plenty of mechanic jobs part-time; he’d even built that sit-and-slide-boat out of scrap wood he'd saved up from his jobs down at the carpentry shop. So Stanley could see, just looking at this, that Stanford's project would eventually break. It just wasn't screwed together correctly. And it wasn't like it even worked, at all. Not in the way Stanford kept insisting it did.

Stanley couldn't help but want his brother to succeed though, even if he didn't want to be left behind. It really was a good opportunity for Ford. He could leave this shithole neighborhood and get a good job that would pay well.

So Stanley reached forward, intending to tighten a loose screw he could see...

"What are you doing?!" Stan jumped at that shout. He turned to see Stanford staring at him. "I was just trying to--" Stan tried to explain but Stanford shoved him out of the room. "Trying to wreck my machine!" The other isosceles glared. Stanley's eye went wide. Did his brother really think he would do that?! "No! I was just--!"

"Get out! I won't have you ruin my chances to be better!" Stanford growled. Stanley narrowed his eye. "Be better? What? Better than me? Is THAT what you mean?!" Stanford glared at his younger twin. "This is my one chance to be more than just a stupid isosceles! I won't have you ruining it for me!"

Stanley's fists clenched. Oh. Is THAT how it was? Well then… Stanley decided then and there, he wasn't going to warn his brother. After all, Stan was JUST a stupid isosceles, what would HE know?! He huffed and stomped away. Fine then. FINE then!

The machine had broken down by the time the judges came. Stanley didn't even complain when Stanford blamed him for breaking it. It's not like they would have believed him anyway. Stanley fumed even as he was assigned to janitorial work. He wasn't gonna go. They wouldn't miss him; he was one isosceles among a hoard of hundreds, he wouldn't be missed. Stanley took his boat and left instead, aiming to find his own way in life. He could be a salesman, like Pa. He could prove he was at LEAST at a Square level. Not _just_ a stupid isosceles like everyone said.

As for Stanford, the judges left with dismissive snorts. He was still allowed a slight increase in rank; his test scores were still good, even if he hadn't lived up to them. Stanford was sent to further his education, and was told he would be able receive proper schooling despite everything. He wouldn't be as high on the hierarchy but he was still elevated above his station, by all accounts he should be happy he’d gotten this opportunity, but Ford continuously complained that Stan had ruined his life regardless.

The years passed as Ford studied, and he even met a pentagon named Fiddleford who became a good friend. Despite being a higher shape, Fiddleford was friendly and kind. He recognized Stanford's intellect and was thrilled to work with him. After graduating, Ford had to choose an area of study. He ultimately chose to study anomalies. --Why did they happen? What caused irregularities or birth defects that created shapes like him?

The Council liked the idea of studying this: perhaps, if they knew more, they could stamp out Irregulars from being born, perhaps there was a way for all shapes to be perfect and proper. So Ford was sent to a small town near the outskirts of the Flatlands, a town that had an unusually high rate of irregular births:

Gravity Falls.

\---

Miz sighed. Well. This dimension was weird. She shook her head. Got too invested in watching the events unfold and she almost forgot why she came here to begin with. Right. She and brother were here to see what the other AXOLOTL and dimensional sets were all about. Miz glanced around to find her brother. She glanced around before Looking UP.

Whoa~

It was at that point that Miz realized this Flatland, while not being brother's Flatland, wasn't quite her Flatland either. From what she could remember of Seb's past, this world was somewhere between Seb's and hers -- 2D people in a 3D space. So there was technically an up, but an UP was different. Miz gazed up and UP and Saw...

...A Human-shaped AXOLOTL?

And Bill was glaring at it with his arms crossed.

(It looked a little like a staring contest, actually.)

"Um… hi?" Miz said cheerfully, as she made her own way UP there as well -- always try to be cheerful, it tends to work better for starting friendly relations! The human-shaped AXOLOTL slowly turned his head to face her, a faint expression of surprise on his face that was there and gone so quickly Miz wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. The AXOLOTL seemed to examine her for a bit before turning back to Bill.

**-You should not be here-** The AXOLOTL finally said. (Bill frowned at it, surprised -- _it had **TALKED** to them!!!_ Without him even needing to--!!) Miz looked between the two. "Well, I was curious. And uh…" She blinked at the AXOLOTL. "...Ok, so a reverse Flatland means a Gijinka AXOLOTL, good to know?"

Bill looked over at her (the AXOLOTL had broken the staring contest first, so that meant HE'D WON! HA!) and it took him a moment looking through his Seen memories to catch the reference.

"Human- _shaped_ , yes," Bill said to Miz. Then he turned back to the local human-shaped AXOLOTL and said, " _ **WHY**_ **\--** do you think I-should-not-be-here." And Bill was glaring at the AXOLOTL again. (This stupid lizard had just tried to tell him what he should and should not do! He'd been challenged! --So it was TIME for Round Two of the Staring Contest until he won (again)! _FIGHT!!!_ )

The AXOLOTL stared at Bill, **-There should only be one Bill in this world. Please return from whence you came-** he said evenly. Miz frowned. "Is our presence here messing with the threads holding this dimensional set together?" she asked. The AXOLOTL didn't look away from Bill even as he slowly shook his head. **-This is not a matter of what you are effecting within this world, but how this world may affect you-**

Miz tilted her head. "What's the problem here? Exactly?" The AXOLOTL finally closed his eyes and sighed. **-My Bill will try to fuse with you, to expand his own powers-** and that made Miz shudder. Ugh. Assimilation. How horrifying. The AXOLOTL turned away to look off into the distance. **-Thus far, he has not noticed you. Please leave before he discovers your presence-**

"HA!" said Bill. (He'd won the staring contest again!) "Note to you, Miz. _THIS_ is why proper _filtering_ and all those OTHER things are important!" he told her, not looking away from the AXOLOTL. His grin got a bit wider. "Won't work on ME. Not the way he might think. --I'd give him the _worst_ case of heart- _burn_ EVER!! HAHAHA! And he wouldn't get anything out of it, either; worst-case, I'm just fine, he isn't," Bill waved off. He'd had other beings (and demons) _try_ to eat him before. (Sometimes he'd actually let them attempt it, just for kicks!) "--Good to know that this ‘Bill’ doesn't value _INDEPENDENT THOUGHT_ and discourse, though," Bill ended on a more sober note. But then he crossed his arms a bit more tightly and his eyes narrowed a bit further. "Unless you're LYING. Or planning on HELPING this other-us-who- _clearly_ -is-NOT-like-us- _at-all_ out with that."

Miz considered that. Hm. Yeah. She definitely didn’t want to be fused with some other Bill. She liked being herself thank-you-very-much. Well, she was still practicing the whole, shields and filters and all other stuff. Her world didn’t have alternate Bills so she'd never had to bother with this before...

"So, you _ARE_ planning on trying to _help_ this other-Bill eat us, then, since you're wanting us ‘gone’," Bill demanded out of the AXOLOTL point-blank. It wasn't exactly ‘asleep at the wheel’ here. It felt more… _active_ in the lives of the beings here than the one back from his own dimensional set was. Not just the demons -- the _beings_ here, too. ...Or maybe he should be saying ‘just-and-only beings’ here, since there didn’t seem to be any demons-from-the-outside around -- not anywhere that _he_ could See.

**-All I want is for you two to leave-** the AXOLOTL responded calmly. **-I do not want to help my Bill or you, but everything would be simpler if this wasn’t an issue to begin with-**

"Simpler is not better. Or worse," Bill said. "And I didn't _ask_ for _YOUR_ help," Bill said. The last time he’d done THAT, he'd gotten a very-long prophecy. He didn't want- _or-need_ another one of those right now! Then Bill’s eyes jiggled back and forth slightly as he stared at the AXOLOTL and… something occurred to him. Bill got a thinking frown. "...Tell me what _you_ WANT," Bill said to the AXOLOTL slowly, deliberately phrasing it as a demand rather than as a question. He'd never really gotten an answer out of his own; his own hadn't ever really had a _conversation_ with him before. (He'd screamed things at it once or twice, and forever-and-ever-and-ever, but…) This was new.

The AXOLOTL actually looked tired. **-All I want, is to keep my dimensional set stable for as long as I can. MY Bill is disruptive enough, purposefully trying to tear Reality down around him; I do not feel you two are like him, hence why I am even bothering to warn you. Leave-**

Bill's eyes narrowed further. "If all he wants to do is 'tear down' Reality, _jumping_ into OTHER DIMENSIONS **isn't** the easiest way to go about it. ...I doubt it's even the most FUN, either." (Bill knew _exactly_ how to collapse dimensions into his own unstable one. It was rather simple to do, in fact -- though it did take a substantial amount of work and a _very_ good understanding of the interdimensional processes and forces in play to actually pull it off. Still less work than portalling out of the 'Nightmare Realm’, though. Stable portals to an unstable dimension were nearly _impossible_ to do. _NEARLY._ )

Bill was starting to _severely_ doubt this stupid lizard's words. (And he wouldn't even have considered that an AXOLOTL _could_ have lied to begin with, if not for hearing about Miz's own lizard's deceitful and mis-leading actions and inactions.)

Miz frowned as she Looked back down and around and into and out of Everything. "What the heck?" she exclaimed as she shook her head. "Why the FUCK did you build this Reality like a goddamn house of cards?!" She stared at the threads she could see. That Flatlands place that this other Bill was planning to tear open was one of the Anchor spots, perfectly placed and connected into the other stitches holding everything together. If it was cut in just the _wrong_ way...

Her own Ax had built Reality like a series of orbs. Free-floating and moving, but firm enough at their edges that they didn’t crack or fuse with the others they collided with. Semi-permeable to allow for travel in and out without anything important on the inside leaking out everywhere. And even IF a dimension began leaking, any energy it lost would just end up like a free-floating ‘substance’ around the other orbs. (With all the spaces between being a mix of both the ACTUAL Space between Spaces, the Mindscape, and the Timestream.) Some of it would sink into the other orbs -- hence why there was Weirdness throughout the multiverse -- but collapsing ONE dimension where she’d come from wouldn’t cause the WHOLE SYSTEM to come crashing down!

"What?" Bill turned away, looking away from the AXOLOTL, completely refocusing his thoughts and attention away from it this time ~~without even thinking about the possibility of it trying to pick and win a 'fight’ with him after losing a staring contest to him _twice_ \-- best three out of five!~~ \-- his little sister had sounded _that_ freaked out and concerned. He began Scanning what he could, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

(This being the first _alternate_ dimensional set that Bill was looking at, though, along with his lack of any experience at _creating_ dimensions, he was having a good bit of trouble understanding and then analyzing what he was Seeing so very in-the-moment, as it were; _parsing_ it wasn't an issue at least, but parsing and measuring by Eye alone was _NOT_ the same as _understanding_ it all. He tried to speed up the process, though, by using what Miz had just said as a bit of a clue as to one of the larger patterns he should keep his Mind and his All-Seeing Eye attuned to Looking out for...)

The AXOLOTL sighed. **-I worked with what I was given. My Bill never wanted to help. My Time Baby went off on his own with progressing Time before I was ready to put everything together. I had to do a rushed--**

Miz interrupted, "--You built a couple stable dimensions and anchored the rest of the multiverse into them in an upside down pyramidal tower that has the entire weight of the multiverse leaning on just those few stable bases! What the FUCK?! Why didn’t you just tell your Time Baby to stop advancing time if you needed it?" At that, the AXOLOTL looked even more tired. **-He and Bill wanted to one up each other. I don’t have enough energy to deal with them while holding this all together…-**

"Tower of Babble. Upside-down pyramid!? --Yes, Ziggurat at Er, _upside down_ ," Bill muttered to himself, half an 'ear' on the conversation that was continuing on without him as he Looked. And it all looked an utter MESS, to his Eye! (For starters, the dimensions in _his_ dimensional set weren't so imbalanced in their relative placements to each other. The stresses of proximity _alone_ with all those conflicting rulesets would--) Bill frowned further. ( _That_ wasn't what those connections were supposed to be for. They weren't supposed to be NECESSARY to--) Bill shook his head. (The dimensions in his own dimensional set had had almost no connections between them until he'd MADE them, wanting to allow for dimensional travel because--)

Bill shook his head in disbelief again, not Looking away from the entirely of the mess that was laid out before him. "You idiot. _I_ could have done better than this while I was _still Flat_. --What are you going to do," Bill said, looking away from it all to recenter his gaze back onto the AXOLOTL. "Turn all those connections into taffy and lower them all down onto…" Bill paused, trailing off, then finally realized what he _HADN'T_ Seen that wasn't there, that should have been there! He whipped his Eye around in a frenzy as he realized: "-- _you don't have an **underlayer!?!**_ " Bill couldn't _imagine_ why it hadn't-- "Just spin up a ‘net to catch it all! What have you been _doing_ , **actually sleeping** this entire time!?" he spat out at it sarcastically, glaring back at it. Because as far as Bill could tell, most of these dimensions had been spun up _quickly_ , one after the other after the other -- they all almost looked to be the same age, relative to each other, from the outside here--

Then Bill blinked as he realized. He stopped and looked away and slowly looked around much closer in, instead. And finally realized EXACTLY where he was.

(They were 'standing’, floating in the middle of the AXOLOTL'S dimensional pocket. More or less outside of everything. Or at the very least well-removed from it all. He’d ‘ascended’ himself ‘up’ this high after he’d looked UP without even half-realizing that he’d done it.)

...Bill slowly looked over at the AXOLOTL again.

The AXOLOTL rubbed his eyes. **-I set up the first few and thought I would take a nap. The Time Giants had my blueprints, they knew what it was supposed to look like, but they had a son, then just… up and LEFT-** the faintest edge of _stress_ entered his tone. **-I woke up to see the _mess_ they left behind and reacted hastily-**

Miz scoffed at that. "Well, you did this to yourself, badow-dow, and that’s why it hurts." She put her hands on her hips. "Even MY Ax sets up a lot of things before he takes his naps… though I guess my Time Baby is not as annoying as yours seems to be."

The AXOLOTL sighed again. **-I don’t want to deal with you two on top of everything I’m already working on. I would hate to have to scrap this world and start over…-**

"-- _No more Deals!_ " Bill bit out sharply, almost on reflex, then quivered slightly in place.

Bill looked away quickly, and Looked over everything a bit more, as a distraction from… And Bill pulled in a sharp breath (even though when he was like this -- in the Mindscape, this way -- he didn't need to breathe). Because it was all so BIG. --Yes, he'd _known_ it was, _OF COURSE_ he’d know it was -- he'd even Seen it all in his own set, the entirety of existence, once before ~~right before he'd fallen AND BURNED for the very _first_ time…~~ \-- but… it was like his hats, he realized with an edge of hysteria to his thoughts. The hats he'd made, they looked _different_ from above. And this dimension, the dimensions he'd seen before had looked so… so... (It was different. It was harder to grasp when he was like this; you had to reconfigure yourself to ascend up so high, in order to handle it all properly, all of the different and varying input, at the levels and in the ways it was all _meant_ to be Seen. And thinking processes _shifted_ when you went through that; things had a tendency to _change_ , but Bill hadn’t really _done_ that this time, and… he was still--) And right now, he was SO VERY above, so _very_ HIGH UP…

...Bill barely resisted the urge to start laughing, because it was oh so VERY _hilarious_ that--

"Wait, scrap and start over?" Miz asked. ("Don't ask it _questions_ ," Bill hissed out at her, half-twitching, because that NEVER worked out well with--) The AXOLOTL sighed. **-What do you think happens to a collapsed Reality?-** He twitched a hand, slender pale fingers twirling more threads into existence and tying bits of Reality into place. **-What else would…-** He trailed off, closing his eyes and just looking incredibly tired.

"Well-then you don't have to SCRAP it, because we are not Dealing with you, so you will not be Dealing with us!" Bill snapped back, his tone rising a bit, two-toned as he usually was. The pupils of his eyes were a good bit more slitted than before.

Miz frowned as she looked back and forth between the two. "We’re not trying to cause trouble, just… observing…"

**-Regardless…-** The AXOLOTL turned to face Miz. **-Your father would be quite unhappy if anything happened to you-** He sounded almost annoyed. Before Miz could open her mouth, the AXOLOTL continued, **-He contacted every other one of us that he could and we all passed the message on. He wants you home-**

Miz winced. "I didn’t think he would actually reach out to ask about where I was…" Then she brightened. "Wait. He’s actually, _actively_ trying to contact me?" She giggled. "Either he’s worried, or he misses me~" she sang out, incredibly thrilled. Because that meant Ax _cared_. She always felt giddy inside whenever she got some proof that Ax actually cared about her. In his own distant way… (and this also meant that _this_ dimension was still somehow close enough to her own that Ax was able to contact them. What did that mean, exactly? What specifications needed to be met for an Ax to be able to contact another Ax?)

BUT! Miz frowned. "I originally came here to see how things worked here. There’s… no pillar system here. So… if your Bill and Time Baby are so problematic, why haven’t you done something about them?" The AXOLOTL blinked, a brief look of surprise on his face. There and gone in an instant.

"--Because this thing's too stupid to think that just TALKING to anyone instead of tossing them out on their _point_ ed-edge is a _great idea!_ " Bill cut in nastily. "And it's _CLEARLY_ too lazy to do **squat** itself, on top of that, since it'd MUCH rather just _SCRAP_ everything apparently, instead of putting in the _effort_ to FIX IT ALL like it SHOULD. --Got a perfectly-imperfect good and messed up dimensional set that could use some ACTUAL FIXING _right here!_ " Bill put out there as he gestured outwards at all ( _literally_ ALL) of creation. "--OH! But that would be too much WORK for it, _right!!_ So just scrap it instead! But hey! Why not! _Why not_ just start over, making the same stupid mistakes over and over again, collapsing _EVERY FIRST AND LAST DIMENSION IN EXISTENCE WHILE YOU'RE AT IT_ ," Bill half-shrieked out at it, halfway to hysterical. "Not like anyone will be LEFT around to CARE about that after you're DONE, right?! --OH! And maybe leave out the whole 'Bill Cipher’ and 'Time Baby’ this time, if they're such a PROBLEM for you, _right?!_ " Bill added, deeper resonances entering his tone. "WHY NOT! --I mean, if you're looking for INPUT, here, buddy-boy-lizard-man, WELL! Far be it from ME not to PROVIDE anyone with a little HARD-EARNED KNOWLEDGE if anybody ASKS!! --It's not like _I'D_ wish anybody into being who'd have to _grow up_ in THAT _hellhole_ of a two-dimensional dimension and then have their brother killed on them ON TOP OF IT just to _turn out **'right’** , RIGHT?!?_" Bill was shaking in place where he was floating by the end of this tirade, and his ‘clothing’ eyes, and hair had all shifted to a color that was a bright and nearly incandescent blood-red.

Bill snarled and turned away from it, _not_ expecting an answer to anything he'd just said. He twisted his head on his neck almost painfully, working his way back to what Miz had said earlier. "--‘Worried’, ‘misses you’, or wants you back for WHO KNOWS WHAT other-reason, maybe. I'D put MY gold on door number _three_ ," Bill told his sister, as his coloring slowly dulled to a darker red-brown, then began to shift over to a nasty sharp yellow instead, rather than blue. "Or did it say _why_ it wanted her back as part of that 'message’," Bill said to the AXOLOTL, not quite gritting his metaphorical back-teeth as he side-eyed the lizard. (It was hard to lie this far 'UP’ where they were, but he wouldn't put it past any of them anymore, if _THIS_ was the sort of thinking these stupid lizards did at this level. WITH EACH OTHER.) Bill glared at the AXOLOTL right in its eyes, once again.

The AXOLOTL observed the two of them for a while, silent, but there was something in his eyes, an expression that Miz couldn’t quite understand. ~~(And there was a feeling inside her, some sort of… loneliness… a sense of… being alone; if _they_ weren’t here, then…)~~ Finally, he sighed again, closing his eyes and looking about as tired as anything. **-Please leave-** He turned away from them and floated off, clouds of energy flowing around his form.

~~(Not the same, better, worse, not that it knew. Don’t risk it. Just be content with what you had.)~~

"Counterpoint: _**pLEaSe **fix the damn place so everything and everyone doesn't have to lose siblings **forever** anymore!****_ ** **" Bill shrieked out at its retreating back, not even caring at this point that he’d ‘won’ a third staring contest with it. Because it was-- just-- it-- _that--!!!_ "--You _fix it right now!!_ " Bill yelled out at it, fed up with its… its… stupid-lizardness! " **OR I'LL DO IT _FOR_ YOU!!!**" Bill thundered out at the last, far more of a threat than a promise.****

********

********

Miz frowned at the AXOLOTL’s back, unsure how to process these feelings she was getting (couldn’t hear thoughts, not from Ax or that damn baby, but emotions were different, they were there and here and now and this Ax was so…) "Why can’t you just make a world where people can be happy?" she asked this Ax, upset that he was just going to leave things as they are. All he seemed to care about was holding Reality together ‘as long as he could’. Not making Reality a happy place, not making Reality a better place. Just keeping it around longer. Was that really all he cared about? "Why are you just… giving up? You’re the goddamn AXOLOTL! Can’t you FIX things? Can’t you…"

**-Fix and fix, but it’ll only break again. Always and every time, no matter what I do. So what's the point? Starting over is more efficient for making less mistakes the next go around...-**, was the faint words that carried to the two triangle-demons as the human-shaped salamander vanished from their sight. Miz’s metaphysical heart ached at this. It felt as if he’d… given up, like he couldn’t even imagine a world where things could be ‘better’ because he’d already seen it fail over and over and had resigned himself to just keeping this shitty existence going as long as he could, to delay the inevitable end where he’d be forced to start over or-- or...

Miz shuddered. There was a feeling here, like she was wavering on the cusp of understanding and yet...

"Then you _aren’t_ fixing it PROPERLY!" Bill yelled out at it, seething. Because how DARE it try to pretend that _starting over_ was more _EFFICIENT!!_ How could it POSSIBLY be easier to START OVER than just FIX the things that were there! How _stupid_ did this thing think that he was?!? "--SO GET SOME HELP AT IT IF YOU CAN'T DO IT YOURSELF, **YOU IDIOT!!** " Bill screamed out after it, irate. Because, as far as Bill was concerned, _that_ was what his Zodiac was for!! Helping _him!_ With doing THAT!!! "You stupid lizards can't TAKE TURNS?!" ~~\--What was _wrong_ with this stupid thing?! Even his OWN stupid lizard wasn’t THIS stupid!!! It--~~

Miz suddenly made a sound of understanding. "He said that his Bill won’t help and his Time Baby won’t listen to him either... "

"Then it should get the other lizards to help it out, since _they_ all apparently talk!" Bill said caustically.

Miz frowned. "What if… what if they can’t?" She turned to her brother, frowning.

"Why not?" Bill waved off, still seething with anger and irritation at the stupid thing. Stupid lizard. -- _Even more stupid_ lizard! "If they can TALK to each other, they can exchange information and energy. WHAT ELSE could they possibly need!!"

"You need your Zodiac to help you…" Miz pointed out. "What if the AXOLOTL are like that too? But… instead of a Zodiac, they have a Trinity?" She thought this made sense. At least for this Ax they just met and for her own… probably? Her dad had mentioned that he needed her and Time Baby, and well, they were all in this together, eternal and endless, the three of them, immortal and interminable. Deathless, doomed to come back, over and over and over until all Reality ceased to be--

"I need my Zodiac for ideas, support, and energy," Bill told her simply, ticking them off. "My stupid lizard doesn't need ANY of that," Bill pointed out next, because his dimension wasn't set up that way with a Trinity or Zodiac for 'his’ lizard, or anything else! --Not at all! "So _CLEARLY_ not all of them do," he huffed out, crossing his arms. Counterexample given! Q.E.D.! (His overall coloring was slowly -- very slowly -- shifting from his striking warlike yellow back down to his favored blue, as he talked with her.)

"Well, the ones who HAVE a Trinity set in their worlds wouldn’t be able to get help… right? Unless there’s some loophole?" Miz rubbed her forehead. "This is kinda messed up." Some unfortunate cosmic trinity being repeated in more than one dimension, heck, that sucked. She really hoped the Ax, Time, Bill trinity wasn’t something that happened often, because it seemed to just result in the three being stuck with each other, whether they liked it or not.

\--Yes, it was messed up. That was the problem, as far as Bill was concerned! --All these dimensions were MESSED UP and this even-more-stupid lizard that _actually talked_ with other beings _still_ wouldn’t fix ANY of it! "Well, WE'RE here. _Obviously_ there **is** a loophole, since there are ways to get from one to the other when you're a pillar. --Because you're a 'pillar’!" Bill told her. "Don't see why they can't just talk to _mine_ if..." Bill trailed off, then slumped his shoulders and glowered as he realized... "Unless MINE really DOESN'T talk to anyone other than..." demons-from-the-outside -- and even then it only did that _right_ before it _kicked_ them back outside, Bill had gathered. He made a 'tsst’ chitter-hiss of a sound in annoyance. Stupid _antisocial_ pink frilly jerk of a lizard. -- _Why_ was he not surprised by this? _SO_ ANNOYING!

Miz floated over to his side, not quite touching. "Well… maybe… if we help this Ax fix this world… the others can see that it’s possible to do so?" she suggested. She hoped they would, she hoped that they would be able to stop… feeling so sad...

"Oh, _I'm gonna_ FIX _this place_ , all right," Bill said in threatening tones. "I'm going to fix this place _SO WELL!!_ " He glared at the lizard's retreating back as it vanished into the clouds, then turned back to look around at the rest of everything-else that was here-and-there with them. "We aren't even that far UP," Bill groused (and tried to talk himself less shivery about said _UP_ as he went). "Didn’t even really need to reconfigure myself that much, or even contort myself around hardly at all, to get myself up this high," he muttered out. --Because it _was_ higher than the mental-energy state he usually tried to hold himself in and exist at, yes, but… it was different. Getting ‘up here’ had been almost _reflexive_ on his part, Seeing and then ending up here -- because objectively? "This isn’t _nearly_ as 'high’ 'up' as the AXOLOTL in my own dimension is," Bill groused out next (...rightly or wrongly...) because... it felt more twisted-partly- _sideways_ to Bill than anything, really. So he should be able to do this, right? RIGHT!!! (--HAHA, was that even a question?)

So Bill pulled in a 'breath’ he didn't need. He Looked down, and around again once more. And then Bill turned to his sister and said quite seriously: "Where do you want to START FIRST?"

"I don’t really know." Miz admitted. "If we just made it so everyone never dies, we would have to either roll back and start from the beginning when life first formed, or we could just make it so ‘no one can die from now on’ and have that be a thing…" She frowned as she looked around. Well, the Ax that was here didn’t seem to be stopping them. No doubt it was because he was already planning to just scrap this place. Miz shuddered. How awful. Trillions of lives, all gone because the god who created them decided he didn’t want them anymore? That was… _beyond_ horrible.

Bill stared at her.

"...I was talking about taffy-izing the strings and making a net below," Bill said slowly, pointing downwards. Because as far as _he_ was concerned, _THAT_ upside-down instability was the _first_ thing that needed addressing. Fixing dying could come _after_ fixing impending-and-imminent-total-destabilization-of-all-dimensions-into-a-nonexistence-from-which-no-dying-could-be-reversed. ...Because with no dimensions, there would be no dead time _in_ those dimensions to reverse, to get any of them back. First things should come first, for a reason.

"Oh right, that too." Miz face-palmed. She had almost forgotten. Zoomed out too much to look at the picture. She glanced down. "Well, I’m pretty good at holding stuff together. I could do that ‘lower them down’ gently thing and see about organizing this mess." She could already see all the problem areas where the stress was beginning to show.

"I’m used to nets from my own dimensional set," Bill noted, then looked around. he should be able to set up something similar here. Not like there was anything or anyone -- demon or being -- around to stop him or make any of it difficult, HAHA! Then Bill got a somewhat evil grin. "--Hope this lizard doesn't care about _us_ deflating _its_ own little pocket dimension of resources a bit 'for a good cause’!" Bill called out at their surroundings, then laughed a _very_ Bill Cipher laugh loud and long, as he spun in place and then flew out, gathering up a quickly-growing bundle of ‘pink fluffy cloud’ material (for matter-energy conversion) in his hands as he went.

Miz shrugged. "Maybe once he loses some of his stuff he’ll try working a bit harder." (Like annoying her dad until he actually did something about it, she always tried to discourage his apathy, and she was stubborn enough to continuously poke her dad until she got a rise out of him) She held out her hands to begin gripping onto the edges of this Reality, ready to catch anything if it fell. Slowly, she lifted one of the Dimensions up and began to gently guide it down a bit lower, separating it from the rest of the bunch and positioning it somewhere a lot less precarious. Heck, this didn’t even take _that_ much effort; she wasn’t creating anything, just moving stuff around.

(Okay, so maybe finding a place to PUT the Dimension was a little difficult, in the end she decided ‘fuck it’ and attached it to an arbitrary ‘location’ within Space for now. It hung there, supported by the Spaces Between. Like a rubber duck floating in a pond, except it was inside the pond and not bouncing back up to the surface because there WAS no surface.

"Oh, I can _MAKE_ it get MORE INVESTED in what happens to this place, yes!" Bill called out threateningly. "But if it tries stopping us, I'm killing it," Bill said of the local even-more-stupid lizard, as he beelined his way back over, cloudstuff in his hands.

Miz snorted. "Considering he knew how we felt about what was happening here and STILL left us alone? I think he doesn’t care."

"It’s stupid," Bill reminded her. " _CLEARLY_ does not think things through, if _this_ is what it came up with. After _falling asleep_ in the middle of things when the stupid thing should know better," he muttered, as he frowned and started spinning ‘netting’ up into the first row of ‘knots’. " _Do your job right!_ " Bill called out to the absent lizard, to no response -- not that he'd expected one. Being efficient, Bill 'coded’ the process into being once he had the first 'edge’ together and started (and attached via long-hanging 'lines’ to the farther ‘edges’ of the cloud pocket dimension, so that it could hang 'below' and 'underneath' it, a bit like a 'hammock’ or 'fishing net' of sorts) and then set the spinning-netting spell-like process running, so that he himself could shift to feeding more cloudstuff into it while controlling the speed of the netting-spin.

"--I'm starting with the junk-rules from mine," Bill warned Miz. "Have to start somewhere! Should be compatible, at least," he muttered. They were certainly general enough -- the ones used for supporting and controlling things from the underlayer, at least. He hoped he had enough energy for this. He was 'cheating’ terribly by shoving against and grabbing and feeding some of the energy _here_ from their surroundings _directly into_ what he was doing (rather than supplying it all from himself). Since the stuff here was so consistent to start with, he hardly needed do anything to it, but...

Miz was reaching into each Dimension as she worked on them, absorbing the emotions (filtering them quickly) for a little boost to help her pace herself. These Dimensions were pretty small, all things considered, not that ‘heavy’ if she had to equate what she was doing with weight. Making them ‘float’ on their own without falling apart or plain _falling_ wasn’t difficult, just tedious and boring.

Bill frowned (but also hummed) as he worked, trying to encode sections of the ‘net’ to shift the basic ruleset to the local-dimension set that would 'sit’ against and ‘above’ it. Gradients for how far out they extended. (There didn’t seem to be a higher Ruleset above it; not here. Not one that _he_ could See, while he was here, like this.)

"Little sis, you’ll need to place those dimensions ‘down’ far enough away from each other to keep these dimensional ruleset compatibilities from conflicting once I put the ‘net’ down, and pull the ‘net’ up. Or put them all down in a different ordering! The stupid gradients are gonna cause bleedover between them if you don't! So do one of the two, unless you _WANT_ it to all collapse into a crazy tangled-mess later!" he called out almost cheekily as he kept spinning out ‘net’ (while pretty sure that she would pick _at least_ one of the two of those, knowing she did not want that sort of collapse to happen). Because that whole upside-down structure was haphazard in its local rules groupings (hint: there weren't any consistent groupings, not in the least!) and interconnected in the stupidest way Bill had ever Seen! (Not that he'd Seen many dimensional setups before, just his and this-one. But the way it was all set up _right now_ reminded Bill of stupid human-brain neural-connectivity! HA!)

Bill wasn't certain how many dimensions his little sister could hold up at a time, let alone while they were in so fragmentary and lopsided a manner, so he didn't bother to give her any suggestions as to which method she might choose. He just focused on his own work and left her to hers.

Miz nodded absently, most of her attention on grouping the Dimensions in some semblance of order. Dimensions with standard-Physics in this section, dimensions with anti-physics in another, and so on. The fragmented pieces were a little difficult to keep track of, but she’d had to wire and bead delicate paper figurines for arts and crafts, if there was any practice for keeping track of tiny round things that could easily fall and get lost, she had _all_ the experience.

Bill hummed as he continued to feed in more and more cloud material that spun-about and knitted-together and spun-out, down and down again. Really, compared to what he had been working towards figuring out what he was going to have to do back 'home’ in his own dimensional set to fix things, all this was EASY to handle by comparison. The whole place was self-contained! No ongoing extraneous incoming-outgoing connections to handle to-and-from the outside, because there _was_ no outside that needed its ever-changing connections to it maintained with it, here. That meant no ongoing changes to account for from a multitude of sources, at all times, all-at-once. Here, all the edges and pieces here were static -- Looking at things from where they were, Seeing what needed to be done. So he didn’t even need to be able to See _EVERYTHING_ all-at-once to be able to pull any of this off! --This was just TOO EASY!!!

And Bill’s grin widened just a bit further, as the ‘net’ spun-out and about towards completion, as he measured and calculated the needed area -- broad and deep -- that _would_ be needed against the rather large number of currently-existing dimensions that were all banded and bandied-about, tied-and-being-untied together. He let out a chittering chuckle, as he cancelled the spell-process, finishing the other-’edge’ himself, the last row of ‘knots’ (and then floated off a good bit away to anchor-in another set of long-hanging ‘lines’ to _another_ farther ‘edges’ of that pocket dimension, in the _opposite_ direction of the first set of long-hanging ‘lines’, to connect to that other-edge).

He checked out all the long-hanging ‘lines’, over all the initial structure of the ‘net’ itself, and once he was sure it was sound (by plucking at it here and there and listening to the key of the hum…), he then said to Miz, with a hard glint in his eyes as he picked up the ‘net’...

"Let’s see how likely it is to tear this down NOW, now that doing _that_ will TEAR DOWN the rest of _this_ \-- AND THAT STUPID LIZARD WITH IT -- if it TRIES!! HAHA! _**CONSEQUENCES!!!**_ " And with that, Bill half-shoved, half- _tossed_ the new ‘netting’ over the side, out and away. "--Let _IT_ have to handle some of the strain of holding it all together _HERE_ , FOR ONCE!"

He looked out and down, watching the ‘net’ ‘fall’ and ‘fall’ and then ‘fall’ and reach the ends of those ‘lines’, to bottom out and down as it _swung_ down into place, far far below everything. "Not so HIGH AND MIGHTY _now!_ \--Connected in _EVERY_ way! No longer anything like SEPARATE! Can’t even PRETEND that it is, now! _NOT ANYMORE!!!_ **HA!** " Bill was downright shaking in place by this point, eyes wide, the form of his Mind’s mental projection pulsating in strength, as his projection’s coloration cycled between shades of red and yellow and black.

Miz watched her brother's not-quite hysterical joy(?)... vindictiveness(?) and shrugged. "Kay~"

She turned back to her own task, carefully moving things so that they weren't in each other's way or in danger of collapsing in on themselves.

Bill pulled in a ‘breath’... and then he jumped up and _dove_ in -- in and down-down-down the ‘lines’ on the one ‘edge’ above, into and over and _through_ and all-around the ‘net’ that he’d just made -- his energy-and-self running across all the ‘strings’ below as he went.

\--And he seemed to create a sort of suction force-and-flow behind him, an attraction, a push-and-pull _towards_ him as he went, because the cloud-matter above started spiraling in and down and through the ‘threads’ of the ‘netting’ along behind him almost of its own accord, seemingly setting up a constant flow of the cloudstuff through the ‘lines’ down to, and ‘strings’ of, the netting. Bill closed the cycle by popping back up at the other-’edge’ across the lines, to somersault and tumble out of them again into the clouds above.

"That’s--" Bill coughed out a bit, then tried again. "That’s there. That’s there now. Haha." He shivered slightly, where he floated lackadaisically past his sister -- more drifting than floating at this point, really. "How are… the dimensions… Going?"

Miz gave him a thumbs up before rolling her shoulders. "It's tedious and boring. But I've got around half of them stabilized by now. I'm organizing them by set up, physical base and size." Then she paused and added, "Also color. It looks nicer this way." She grinned to herself. "Do you love the color of the sky?" Miz said, with a tone that Bill had figured out by now meant she was making some sort of reference to something she was saying more for-and-to herself than as something she meant for anyone else to understand (in this case, that generally meant it was a rhetorical question).

(Not that he didn’t usually respond to those anyway with--) "Pink-is- _not_ -my-color," he got out fairly coherently, as he closed his eyes (and his Eye) for a moment, as he relaxed against the clouds. "Stabilized is good-good-good," Bill not-quite stuttered out next, as he ‘breathed’ for a bit. "That’ll work. ...Good spacing," he added, after rotating onto his side, opening his eyes again, and taking another Look to assess the state of that. He took in another ’breath’ he didn’t need to take, then forced himself to float himself a bit more upright. "Second time’s a charm!" Bill laughed out, seemingly short of breath as he did. "Lower them down further; I’ll connect-them in as I go; can settle-them next after that," he told her, floating up-up-up, to go diving down-down-down the new ‘intake’ lines again.

And this time, Bill’s form wasn’t so completely lost among the ‘netting’ below, where this time he stayed, circling and cycling through and between the knots without interrupting or stagnating the general direction of the flow -- sometimes jumping along the strings in jagged arcs of energy, in sawtooth-triangles below and side-to-side -- sometimes twisting an echo of his human-ish body around the strings like they were fireman’s poles he was sliding down -- sometimes flickering into sections and pieces of a slitted eye here, a pair of eyebat wings there, a sextet of arms reaching out elsewhere -- on and on and on he went.

_< Pass it down to me **here**!>_ Bill buzzed-hummed-sang out to her from below, _< here-_ **here** _-HERE! >_ calling out and up to where she was far far up above. _< I’ll CATCH it! I’ll TAKE it! I’ll MAKE it work! MINE-MINE-MINE!>_

Miz nodded as she directed them downward, the awful upside-down pyramid being almost entirely taken apart.

And the pure energy that was the being that was Bill arced upwards from the ‘string’ of that ‘net’, over and over again, dragging thin ‘tenets’ of the ‘string’ from below up a bit with him. ‘Filaments’. Small anchors to anchor-points, in a way, up from each section of ‘net’, dancing and dancing, singing out in his humming-buzz as he danced out and about along the ‘string’...

...until the last dimension was lowered, and there were no more connections to make. Miz sighed and relaxed, her form buzzing out a little as she slumped against the side of the net to rest.

Bill arced and flowed himself outwards then, directing himself sideways and over and out and back up the ends of the ‘outflow’ strings. He more slid out of them with a half-tumble -- rather than somersaulting out of them -- this time.

It took Bill a few moments to raise his head out of the cloudstuff he’d not quite face planted into after that (along with the rest of the ‘body’ of his mental projection of himself), but once he did…

"Just… just need to pull it up a bit, now. You get this side, I’ll get that one?" Bill said after taking another few ‘breath’s, after already beginning to float his way over to the other set of lines again, rather more comfortable taking the more-’dangerous’ more- _tricky_ intake side himself than the outtake one. (His sister wouldn’t have to worry about her hold over there as much; he didn’t want to risk her being pulled and drawn down and having to try and fight against it if she was unsure of what she was doing, or became distracted. He knew he could handle it; he didn’t want to risk her hurting herself if she couldn’t. ~~If he was this tired, she might be, too.)~~

~~~~

~~~~

Miz nodded, and they both half-floated half-drifted to their respective ‘sides’ of the ‘edges’ of connection. She was having fun, tedious as this task was, she liked this type of micromanagement. Dad never let her do anything like this back home, he probably worried about her breaking something.

"Shorten your ‘lines’ over there about this fast? --This fast," Bill said, making a slow-moving gesture at a constant speed. Miz nodded to show she understood and had seen. And then they both began working in tandem.

The ‘net’ below was lifted upwards ever-so-slowly, ever-so-slightly, and as the ‘net’ rose, the ‘filaments’ that had been connecting back down to it all strengthened and thickened out as the flow had less ’Up’ to fight against; and the strengthening of those filaments helped to settle each and every single one of those dimensions below in-place, to place them cleanly down into the ‘net’.

And the ‘net’ began gleaming with colors all across the spectrum, as the specific rulesets bled into them from the dimensions. Red and yellow and black, mostly. But there were also hints of blue and silver cycling through it, as well. (And, sometimes, a bit of green, or orange, or purple, or pink even…)

The colors below slowly bled into and through things, down through the rest of the ‘net’, but as they spread out in watercolor-like shimmering pools into the structure, they slowly shifted and settled into the consistent ‘pink’ and pearlescence ‘color’ of the cloudstuff above, between all the space of threads between them; there was just enough space to allow the flow from above to continue on and through it all, all of it, without being diluted or ‘recolored’ completely, in a flow that kept on cycling through and through and through, above to below and through and around and out and back up again, and...

Miz stared. "It's so pretty…"

"It’s _beautiful_ ," Bill agreed. "As it should be. Perfectly-imperfect. --Well, _ALMOST_ ," Bill amended, as he lay his head back in the clouds. "The rules need some **work** , but..." it all wouldn’t be collapsing immediately, if any one of those dimensions did. Not on their own. Not even with a little ‘help’. --Not anymore.

Miz sat back on another cloud and stretched her ‘arms’ out as she relaxed. "We have time, time doesn't really pass unless we let it up here…"

"Mm," said Bill, slowly stretching himself. "Need to be careful about it, though," Bill noted. "That stupid lizard fell asleep up here, and look where that got _it_." Bill flopped back into the clouds and shook his head slightly. "Need to add in some connections between the dimensions down there to ‘bridge’ the ‘gaps’, too, still, at some point. All those so-called ‘natural portal’ connections between them." He smiled. (He was proud of that one. He’d done that ON PURPOSE in his ‘set, adding in each and every one of those stable-and-stabilized ‘natural portal’ connections in himself. --They were never meant to be structural the way he’d done it, though, not like the stupid way it had originally been done everywhere here by that stupid lizard. And it would be child’s play for Bill to do it here in the same way he had done it in his own set _properly_ , again, in the here-and-now...)

Then Bill rolled over and looked at Miz, and asked, quite seriously, "Think anybody noticed anything happening at all, down there?" he wondered ‘out loud’ at her mentally. Everything _here_ seemed to be largely in-step, time-wise. They’d taken care to make sure that the ‘local time’ that the changes they’d made happened _after_ they’d come here; Bill had set ‘himself’ (really, the general area) at five minutes past _that_ particular time ‘forward’ again as-and-after Miz had pulled herself Up. (It was… odd, here. Far more fluid, responsive, and… _reasonable_ really. Bill was able to reason through what he was Seeing rather easily. _This_ AXOLOTL’s ‘outside of time’ area here didn’t seem to follow the same Rules he was used to _AT ALL_ …)

(Which, somewhat alarmingly, absolutely confirmed what his little sister had said about dimensional sets that were entirely unconnected to his own set, with very different rules in play and a _VERY_ different lizard. --Because _this_ one talked to them, and _didn’t_ roll back time on them after answering an outright _question_ as-posed -- so that they _couldn’t even **REMEMBER** what they’d asked_, let alone its answer -- in a blatant sort of cheating maneuver! The big frilly pink _jerk!_ )

Miz grinned. "I've actually moved Dimensions around without Time Baby noticing a few times. It was hilarious how confused he got." The tantrum he went through when his agents kept getting lost was HILARIOUS. Though, Ax had told her to put them back afterwards. No fun. He didn't want her messing with them. No fair.

"Ahhhh~" Bill sighed out, kicking his feet and legs in frustration, as Miz brought up all of the moving she’d done and he realized... "I didn’t watch you working! Not _properly!_ " He’d been too focused on what he himself had had to do, to do what he'd tasked himself with doing all properly himself! "--I don’t know how to do that," he complained to her. "If I’d known how to do that BEFORE, I wouldn’t have had so many problems with only having the ONE dimension I could escape out of and to!" he told her, kicking his legs out again before letting them drop. And it was true -- the **real** problem he’d had was that his old decaying dimension had been disconnected from nearly everything, drifting farther and farther away from everything else.

The two dimensions -- the ones where his Zodiac were -- were the closest ones that his own decaying dimension had been anything _close_ to nearby in.. well, practically FOREVER. And they were the _last_ ones that his dimension had been about to pass by that he might have ever been able to stably reach and connect to, _ever_ , **period.** ...Grabbing and pulling down-and-in other dimensions to destabilize them into his own might’ve been possible after that still, to keep things going for him in his own decaying dimension after that, but _escape?_ A true, real escape? To be able to turn back around again and then launch himself out and AWAY from...? --No. He’d really only had that one chance, because moving his own dimension himself was one of the very few things that he’d NEVER figured out, and _never_ been able to do.

"All _I_ could do was try to deform it from the inside a little bit," Bill told her, and even that had been pretty dangerous to do, with it already not being anything _like_ stable at the time that he’d been trying to do it. "But I couldn’t actually _MOVE_ it." He frowned. "Is there a way to move a dimension from _inside_ it WITHOUT destabilizing it? Or do you NEED the outside-leverage for it?" he asked her, realizing that there was one big difference between the two situations -- then, and now -- still. His little sister had actually had a lot of leverage here, being outside of it all. But that didn’t mean that she did it the same way where she was from. But if she could do that and tell him how… if he could have done THAT from INSIDE it back then...

Miz rolled around on her cloud to get comfortable. "Well, I watched dad while he worked and picked up a lot from just seeing what he did." She thought about it. "But moving from the inside would require shifting enough mass to one side of the dimension that the ‘weight’ starts pulling it in a certain direction," and with her ability to turn pure energy into mass, well, lets just say she could really 'throw her weight around' if she tried. Reminded her of being inside a giant hamster ball, really. But more… stretchy? It was much easier to move stuff when she wasn't inside it. "I could manage it even easier by grabbing onto all the mass inside a dimension and moving them all at once in the direction I wanted."

"Hm," said Bill, thinking that one through. That might’ve worked if he’d been in any other (stable) dimension to start with, but... "Think mine might’ve been moving too fast for that to slow it down quickly enough to get anywhere in that space of dead time. --It didn’t do its destabilization, HA, _cleanly_ ," he told her. "I lost a lot of matter-energy out of mostly one ‘side’ of it, I think? Sort of." Bill frowned. "Except not. ...The _information_ of the matter-and-energy was retained?" It wasn’t quite the right description for any of it, but… "My dimension was also _completely flat_ to begin with, and then _wasn’t_ -later. So." Bill sighed. (This was one of the reasons he hated _gravity_ so much. The concept Miz had described sounded a lot like trying to shift and concentrate the center of mass internally in a different enough way, through other expenditure of energy, that it would be pulled towards other-closest dimensions more than others. But with how fast his dimension had been moving, and with the lack of resources he’d had to work with… those last two nearest-dimensions would likely have collapsed on their own, at the end of their own lifespans, long before what was left of his dimension could have slowed down enough to even come to anything like a halt, let alone start speeding up again on a ‘return’ path trajectory, from their ‘pull’. The forces involved were too weak, and what was left of his own dimension had basically been on an escape trajectory away from absolutely _EVERYTHING_ , which had meant… well. Nothing good for _him_.)

He was going to have to think a lot more on this...

Miz laid back. "That sounds like it sucked." The thought of being trapped in a place like that seemed awful. She was thankful her own didn't do that.

"More like it ‘ruptured’," Bill made a face. "Cheesecloth-as-a-boundary might be better-closer as a description? It got thin. More permeable. Lost a lot. Outer boundaries expanded and flexed in ways they shouldn’t-and-weren’t supposed-to. I don’t remember it very well. Not sure I was awake-and-aware the entire time, either." Bill shrugged, giving her a grimace. (Yet another thing the stupid lizard hadn’t helped him with. It hadn’t tried to slow his dimension down at all, it hadn’t set up a grouping of new dimensions to try and slow it down either -- and it wasn’t like it _couldn’t_ have done that; it was able to create new dimensions all the time -- anytime it wanted, as far as Bill could tell. There didn’t seem to be any rules on where new dimensions popped up, other than those the stupid lizard self-imposed upon itself, and--)

As Bill ruminated to himself and frowned furiously over the old state of affairs in his own dimensional set, Miz looked down at the dimensions here that were nestled neatly in the netting. Like little hammocks but not. "So how do we rewrite the Rules? Most of those places had a lot of stuff hardwired into it." Like how everything WORKED. What was up or down. What colors were what. Which wavelengths they traveled in.

"We generalize it first. Write the general rules into the ‘net’, with the same ‘values’ for ‘variables’ as the hardwired things. Let that bleed in and replace what was hardwired-there, since it’s all technically the same. Then change the ‘values’ from the out-side to manage the in-side instead. And everything flows like it should. Simple and efficient." Bill closed his eyes for a moment. "Technically, I already did the first part of that, with the junk-rules in place. Now, we just have to let it sit for awhile, and finish bleeding together. Let it sit, and set, and come back to handle the rest of it later."

Miz poked at a nearby dimension. "We've probably messed things up for the native Bill. If he was trying to destabilize Reality then we've just made his job harder…"

"If he was _really_ trying to destabilize ‘Reality’," Bill put out there, "Then he’s a stupid idiot who DESERVES to have his decided-upon 'job’ made _harder_ ," Bill sneered out, then tossed an arm over his face. "Stupid lizard probably never had an actual _CONVERSATION_ with him," BIll muttered. "Doubt it knows-or-understands what he’s really trying to do, either." Bill lowered his arm. "I’d rather talk to him DIRECTLY. No reason to take the lizard’s word for anything!" he told Miz half-cheerfully. (Bill sounded very tired as he said it, though.) "...The stupid thing didn’t explain anything with that Time Baby that’s supposed to be around here somewhere, either," Bill added, which they’d also not seen skin nor hair of during the whole process of this themselves. "--I can understand how they both might’ve been able to get in its way, though!" Bill told her next. "If this is _ALL_ that it had to deal with, at THIS level," Bill said rather disparagingly, turning his head slightly to glance around at everything that was all around them again.

Miz hummed. "So… you think we should talk to the Bill here?" she tried to confirm. Her brother sort of sounded like he did, bring up the whole ‘directly’ thing there. She was a little hesitant at the idea of talking to him herself. She hadn't gotten a good look at him in that brief moment, but he was human-shaped, much like that AXOLOTL they met (and the fangirl side of herself was noting that they were both quite handsome… ugh that's a strange thought… she did NOT want to find an alternative version of her dad attractive…) and she wanted to know if that meant anything, but… he’d also seemed kind of mad, and a bit scary, during that fight.

"Yes," Bill said. "We should talk to him." He paused for a moment as he thought. "Precautions might be good," he added after a moment. "And… pick a dimension, rest down _there_ for awhile, first?" he added hopefully, pointing towards the ‘below’. He was tired, and if Stanley had been right about one thing, it was that Bill didn’t handle things too well when ‘tired’ or ‘hungry’, and Bill was a big enough triangle to (continue to) admit to that being the case.

"I don’t want to rest up _here_ ," Bill complained out to his sister next. "--I **don’t** trust this stuff," Bill said, looking around at the clouds suspiciously. "What if the cloudstuff is the stuff making the stupid lizard stupid? --I DON’T WANT to fall asleep up here," Bill groused out almost petulantly. (At this point, it didn’t even occur to Bill that if they stayed up there, the AXOLOTL might come back; to his way of thinking, it had run away and was probably asleep somewhere else, not _lying in wait_ to **GET** them, as soon as they let themselves fall asleep.)

Miz snorted. "Sure. There's a dimension down there where everything is made out of pillows. Might be a soft place to sleep."

"Check the pillows first," Bill said in warning tones, feeling a bit loopy, but still more than coherent enough to both remember and note: " _Always_ check the pillows first. ALWAYS."

Miz nodded and tilted her head at all the work she and Bill had done. "I wonder if the Ax here will appreciate what we did for him? It's much better now."

"It is, and _it had better_ ," Bill breathed out, his eyes fluttering half-open half-closed. "And if it wants to spin up more dimensions," Bill told his sister blasely, "Then it can expand out the ‘net’ if it needs to, _first_. Add more to it." Bill was not quite floating face-up in the clouds as he said this. He began panting slightly as he started to sit up, then gave up for the moment at doing that, flopping back down into the clouds. "--Self-limiting," Bill put out there next. "Add too much, means putting too much strain down there on everything up here, through all the ‘lines’ connecting down-there to up-here. Should make it learn its own limits. Not try to do more than it can, or should do. --Stupid lizard here _clearly_ can’t handle anything approaching a truly infinite-infinity all-at-once."

Bill let out a long ‘breath’, and marveled at the fact that, oddly, making the ‘motion’ with his Mindscape form _did_ seem to have something of an impact on him, helping him to relax and to calm down. (...Was this because he was still technically connected to his body by that strung-out anchor? Was his body back there responding to what he was doing here? Was _that_ having an effect on the projection of his Mind to where he was here? --AH! _So many questions!_ So many questions that _he didn’t know the answers to_ , yet!)

"Running off and making us do its work for it, though," Bill grumbled, turning over in the clouds. "Lazy. _Unfair!_ \--It _better N’ **O** T_ complain!" Bill added, as he rolled over and out of the clouds, to float a bit more upright finally, this time without looking like he was about to pass out from shortness of ‘breath’ right away. "We’ll come back and finish it _later_. --First things first! Second things second! _Thenn_ last-things lasssst," Bill enthused out to her, as well as he could under the circumstances.

That was fine with Miz. She Looked at the pillow dimension and checked to make sure there was nothing there that could harm them before leading her brother down into it.

Bill trailed down slowly after her, more and more slowly as he went, though they both slid inside the dimension easily at the end of it. He slowly rotated around to Look at things in the surrounding area (read: entire dimension) as Miz materialized vessels for the two of them: a little girl form for herself and a teen-aged female form for her brother. The place looked safe enough to him, as far as he could See. (Even if his vision seemed to be trying to going double on him now, even with only one single Eye...)

Bill more swayed than bobbed in place in the Mindscape, eyes continually fluttering closed, then open, then closed again, barely able to concentrate on anything more than a colorless mantra of ‘Look around, make sure there are no threats, don’t fall asleep until you’re in a body again’ as Miz finished up what she was doing.

And once Miz was done, Bill barely gave ‘his’ own vessel a cursory glance with his Eye before slipping into it. Shortly thereafter, he was down on the ground, fast asleep, lying face-down across the flattest and least-fluffy of the nearby pillows spanning the whole pillow-scape.

Miz sat down beside him. "You must be exhausted…" she noted. "You could have told me you were getting tired…" Miz laid down on a fluffy pillow that seemed to be a ‘berry bush’ since it had little round cloth dangles and smelled like artificial strawberries. "Good night brother." She set up a protection barrier around them, to keep out both physical and spiritual threats. She made sure they would be safe before she finally allowed herself to drift off, a little worn out herself from the work. As she drifted off, Miz wondered why the native Ax hadn't been able to get off his lazy ass and just do it himself.

\---

"Mmrmphmmm…" went Bill, as he slowly woke from his long slumber and tried to raise his head up. (Nope. Too early. Not doing this! --Don’t care what time it is, still NOT doing this.) He let his head fall back down onto the pillow below him.

Miz had woken up before Bill had and had built a pillow fort around her brother. She hadn't wanted him panicking if she wasn't nearby when he woke up either, so she was sitting beside him with her eyes closed, puppeting another vessel out to explore this dimension. The grass was patchwork cloth and felt, the trees were much the same. It was a very soft world.

After another long while, Bill finally not only lifted up his head to try to look around blearily, but also actually _opened his eyes_ this time.

And when Bill saw Miz, he blinked blankly, then blinked blankly and slowly again. (Things were not quite computing just yet.) Miz waved at him, eyes still closed. "Morning, big brother." She was making her other vessel hunt down a pillow rabbit. She was curious what it tasted like. Probably cotton, but she wanted to try anyway.

"Mor’n…-ing?" Bill echoed, as his mentality crawled slowly towards working its way from (his own native math to) Galactic Standard, and Galactic Standard to American English, and then he blinked again. "Miz. Sister." It took him another moment.

_(...another dimension in another dimensional set, Miz with him, they did things Up there ~~stupid lizard~~ and then fell asleep down here...)_

Bill closed his eyes and opened his Eye, and Looked around. (And felt a little stupid as he realized that he’d been a bad big brother, there were protections up that he hadn’t put up, Miz had had to put them up for him…)

(...Miz didn’t seem angry at him about that, though. And the barriers and protections were sufficient for sleeping-within, even with that other Bill out there. And she was safe.)

And then Bill pulled in a breath (that _felt_ entirely like breathing this time, _almost_ \-- because he was in a vessel instead of his own singular body) and grimaced as he lifted a hand to his forehead (closing his not _quite_ overworked-yet Eye) and collapsed back to the pillow again. ...Well, at least he was face-up this time.

"Tiiiiiiired," Bill not-quite slurred out at her, trying half-heartedly to wave an arm back at her and failing miserably, making more of a flopping motion with it instead.

Miz giggled. "You worked really hard yesterday. Sleep more if you want, I'm trying to find food right now." And hopefully she'd be able to get him to eat something later. This might be a vessel and not his true self but it would still help him recover some of his energy.

"Pillows. are. not. food," Bill stated slowly, though a bit more clearly this time. He rolled over again to collapse a bit where he lay on his side. --Because if Stanley wasn't here to poke him about it and Miz said he could sleep more? _He was going to sleep more._

"That vessel has the same stomach as me. Pillows can be digested." Miz said softly in case Bill was asleep, she opened one eye to check on him. Bill’s eyes were closed, and he seemed ready to conk out again right then and there.

"Not food," Bill murmured out at her again, as he shifted in place, getting comfortable, and slowly began to drift off to sleep again. "Mmmmmnm…" He’d tried to use as little of his own energy as possible earlier, in ‘fixing’ things and in making that netting, but ‘as little as possible’ was a _far_ cry from ‘none’ of it being used by him at all.

It wasn’t a minute later that Bill was fast asleep and well-under, all over again.

Miz resisted the urge to coo at him. Her brother was so adorable~ Well. Miz wasn't going to tell him that. She DID snap a mental photo to ‘print’ out later. Maybe she could show it to Mabel so the two of them could coo over it together?

Miz stayed vigilant, checking to be sure the native Bill didn't discover them. She could feel him around but he wasn't able to See them. She wanted to talk to him, but not right now and not alone.

\---

Bill was asleep for another several hours after that. What _finally_ woke him up was the growling noises of his own stomach.

"Stupid human-ish bod- _y_ \-- _vessel_ -thing," Bill muttered, correcting himself as he rolled over onto his back. "Not food. Food is not the problem." Stupid vessel. He needed _energy_ , not food, and he felt annoyed at this… this _mismatch_ of things. --His own exoskeletons had never been this way! ...Then again, if he’d fallen asleep inside an exoskeleton, instead of a vessel that was pretty darned close to his own human-ish body at-present, then he probably would've...

There was a smell in the air that caught his attention. Like burning cloth? Bill shoved himself upright to see his little sister roasting a stuffed rabbit over a small fire. She looked very confused.

Bill saw her look up and grin at him, once she realized he was awake.

"Miz," he repeated. " _Not food._ " He pointed at the stuffed rabbit. "Those are for _hugging_. You like _hugging_ those." What was she even _doing_ with that thing?

"I do. But I'm also curious what they taste like. The inhabitants of this dimension eat them, so that means they're 'food’."

"They don’t eat them like THAT," Bill told her, eyeing the fire. Did she really think these things were going to be like meat-rabbits? Like human-dimensional type rabbits full of meat? She _HAD_ to have noticed the feathers, though.

"You’re going to burn down the entire dimension," Bill informed her dryly. "And they taste like feathers. It’s all cloth and feathers. The entire dimension. --All of it." He could tell just by _Looking_ at it; all those chained-together hydrocarbons were...

Miz frowned at the fire. "I guess that's a valid point."

"They probably rip open the outside-cloth to get-at and ‘eat’ all the feathers, locally, if the local-things do the whole eating-each-other thing like most places do," Bill told her, as he levered himself into sitting up upright. He hadn’t Looked long enough before to See it all happening explicitly, but he was more than certain enough at what he had Seen to ‘guess’ that they, "Keep-and-reuse the stitching-and-cloth to expand their own outer coverings, which is dangerous to do in an open setting-area; can’t really move while all those stitches sitting there, open and undone," he told her, rubbing at his eyes. Because that was generally how he’d Seen it done in several similar dimensions from his own dimensional set, at least. He hadn’t done an in-depth Look at everything in this one, just a cursory one Looking for differences. "Not sure what they use for needles, here. Broken button-eyes?" He wasn’t entirely sure he felt like checking to find that out for himself just then. Was that something _useful_ that they needed to know? It probably wasn’t, if they were going to be leaving soon, anyway.

Miz put out the fire and considered the burnt rabbit. "Damn, why does it have to be so cute…" she said, before she ‘healed’ the animal. The stuffed rabbit jerked and wiggled out of her hands to hop away. Miz sighed. "Well, I found another difference. The Ax here doesn't grab the Souls immediately. It feels like he lets them pile up a bit before grabbing them in bulk," else the rabbit would have been revived as a soulless husk.

"Thing need to learn how to automate all those flipping processes," Bill muttered out, rubbing at the side of his head vigorously and fuming. Was it going to just keep being lazy? It had better not ignore the whole ‘net’-underlayer he’d set up for it here; there was lazy, and there was _lazy and stupid_ **at the same time**. ...At least ~~_his_ AXOLOTL~~ the stupid lizard from _his_ dimensional set had never stooped so low as to being _both of those at the same time_...

Miz got up from her seat on a large mushroom pillow. "I don't think I'll be able to kill one of those again. Was hard enough the first time. Too cute." She'd eventually killed the rabbit by accident. Using her ‘puppet’ to chase it off a cliff onto a bed of foxes who'd torn it in half with their jagged zipper teeth.

"So? We go somewhere else to eat something that’s actually food," Bill said, shrugging. "This is a problem?" By which he meant both the eating-elsewhere-not-here _and_ the Souls in bulk. (As far as Bill was concerned, if this AXOLOTL was _that_ lazy, and didn’t even _try_ to use the underlayer he’d put in place for it for anything, to do its own job better, then it would probably be just _that much easier_ for Bill himself to set up things so that the Minds stayed connected with the Souls, and to then shunt the Souls away from the lazy-stupid lizard into a ‘waiting area’ that it couldn’t get at so easily instead, using the very ‘net’ that Miz had helped him with himself. Because if the number of souls never built up enough for it to pick them up before the regeneration-unkilling process Bill wanted to put in place occurred? Then--)

Miz brushed her hands off. "I just usually check out the local cuisine whenever I visit a new dimension. But I can skip this one. Maybe."

"Tastes like feathers," Bill repeated for her, then frowned. "Stab the mushroom, pull out a few, put them in your mouth, they’ll taste like everything else. Done. No wondering-forever later." It was about as much of a compromise as he could think of, under the circumstances.

Miz proceeded to actually try it and made a grimacing face. "BLEH. That texture…" She blinked. "But this actually tastes mushroomy."

Bill blinked at her.

"...Stab the ground?" he said next. Not that he was hoping exactly that it would taste different. He just knew that Miz liked tasting potentially-food things. He certainly wasn’t going to taste it himself!

Miz poked at it and pulled out some green tinted feathers. "Well. This is kinda grassy. Like fresh cut lawn." She still didn't like the texture. Feathers did not feel nice on the teeth.

...Bill refrained from musing out loud if finding green feathers in a rabbit-pillow would have them still tasting ‘grassy’, or if they would slowly start to taste potentially-’rabbity’ over time.

"Not food," was what he pointed out again, instead.

Miz shrugged, satisfied for now. "I saw a dimension with actual food. And beings that look humanoid enough that we wouldn't stand out." Miz looked off. Reminded her of a place from her own set, but it was different, had different people, even if it kept the same 'type' of society.

Bill slowly stood up, and shifted in place, looking uneasy. "...I need energy," he finally admitted, looking away from her. "Preferably without having to actually feed." He had a feeling doing THAT would be _very_ dangerous here, in another ‘set with another AXOLOTL and another Bill around doing who-knew-what and potentially mad at things in general ~~(and maybe even ready to be mad at THEM…)~~. Yes, he was drawing down energy from where his form and Mind physically were currently, but it was _slow_ , not instantaneous, and he had to keep it that way in order to...

Miz smiled. "Well~ your vessel has my kind of stomach so you'll be able to get all the energy within molecular bonds."

That just had Bill grimacing. "I don’t know how to _operate_ it correctly," he told her. He couldn’t exactly See it well from being inside it, to start with. And he didn’t particularly want to get into how he’d truly learned how to operate bodies from the inside with his little sister just then. (Primarily, ‘test to destruction’ with a few ‘test’ subjects who _wanted_ to self-annihilate and knew _exactly_ what they were getting themselves into with their Deals with him, there.)

Miz rolled her eyes. "You don't have to do anything but eat food like a human. The stomach will work on its own."

"No," said Bill, looking uncomfortable, "YOU don’t understand. I can’t just PULL IN energy out of EVERYwhere, from anyTHING. There's a _process_ ," he told her, because that was what it was: a conversion and integration process. (And his reserves were already somewhat integrated into his form.) He wasn’t entirely sure how _she_ did it, but... "I’ll _reject_ it, otherwise. It won’t incorporate into my Self." It was part of how he automatically rejected any- and every-thing that was not him. Part of his defenses, innate because he’d reconfigured himself to make himself so. And he _didn’t_ really want to discuss HOW he did it any further than that with her while they were quite literally standing in what could potentially be enemy territory, if the AXOLOTL hadn’t been lying to them earlier about things. (And if it had, then it was _still_ enemy territory, just in a different way…)

Miz thought about it before handing Bill a feather from the mushroom. "Test out a little and see if it works or not. If it doesn't, I can help you find something that does."

Bill grimaced. He knew perfectly well how his form as a being of pure energy both worked and didn’t-work, mental projection of his Mind from where he actually physically was lying in place or not.

But he took the feather from her anyway and he put it in his mouth. And then he swallowed it.

(It wasn’t as though it was going to damage him if he did it. He could handle it, however the finer details of the process Miz had set up for him actually worked, he was certain. And it _would_ be informative for her to see…)

And a few seconds later he made a hacking noise and then bent over and spat out a small pinhead-sized chunk of ball lightning, out of said-vessel’s mouth, which hit the pillow-ground _hard_ and left a burnt mark right where he’d spat it out down onto the fabric.

"Oh my gosh!" Miz gasped and then grimaced. "Probably should figure another method then." Ball lightning? Interesting. Now she was curious if that was a thing with her brother or if she could hack out lightning too.

Bill, hands on his knees and looking a bit ill, made a sort of ‘ugh’ sound and sent her a _look_. (Yes, he’d been right; hadn’t damaged or hurt him, just felt _incredibly_ uncomfortable. That energy had actually felt like it had been forcibly _INJECTED_ into his energy form; he hadn't been able to keep it out to begin with; he'd had to _shove_ it out! And even after doing _that_ , it had continued to crawl all over and across his energy form in a largely-uncontrolled manner, inside this vessel with him, before he’d decided that that was enough of that and finally forcibly-cycled it up this vessel's throat for expulsion...)

"Sorry, didn't think you would reject it that harshly." Miz felt bad that it apparently sucked THIS much.

"I’ll explain LATER," he told her, as he finally straightened up a bit, swaying. He’d only just recently taught Miz layers, and she still found it a bit uncomfortable to hold them herself. Getting into how he’d quite literally ENCRYPTED the most important parts of the standing wave of his own energy form, well beyond _that_ even? Was something he considered to be a bit of a trade secret of his. (Not ‘just’ ciphers, but _ACTUAL encryption_.) And that wasn’t even getting into the algorithms he used for determining how he cycled it all -- all and which parts of himself -- between frequencies in order to make himself _that_ difficult to characterize, monitor, track, sense, follow, trap or otherwise contain, or in any way stop. _Or_ how he still managed to actually process and react to everything around him, incorporating that new information-as-energy-shifts into his being without disrupting or _un_ encrypting any of the rest of these processes to do so. _Or_ the layering-shifting-flows that he’d put in place on top of and integrated into all of that. Not to mention the error-checking and memory-‘data’ compression, and his own equivalent of ‘self-corrective’ healing…

"Not here, and not now. Not when anything or anyONE could be listening," Bill limited himself to telling her instead.

\---

(ReverseFlatland!Bill interlude)

That was strange~? Bill craned his head up from where he was standing over the broken crappy house-robot and Looked. He could have sworn everything just _moved_. Like the multiverse had shifted. Odd. That damn lizard was too lazy to do something like that.

He opened his Eye to Look and frowned when he couldn't See it, whatever ‘it’ had been. It frustrated him to no end. Was that damn lizard blocking him again? --Well, no matter. All he really needed to do was See what that moving feeling was...

...what? WHAT?!

Bill shrieked with anger. Whatever had happened had completely RUINED his plans! All of them! All of it was changed! Moved! Stabilized?!!! Who the FUCK did this?! It couldn't have been that lizard -- he was a lazy fuckin' asshole and...

Bill pulled at his hair, screaming and screaming with rage at whoever had so THOROUGHLY _fixed_ the layout of the multiverse.

...and WHY was it so neatly _ORGANIZED?!_

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: So... ahhhh funny story.... the whole point of the crossover arc was supposed to be for the sake of introducing the ReverseFlatlandAU and expanding on MizBill's Dreamscape and the different AXOLOTLs...
> 
> ....but we got distracted >.>
> 
> **My AN:**  
> ...distracted because I offered to do the 'crazy thing with the twins I was planning on doing next, did you want Miz to be there for it? or I can do it after Miz leaves again', and then things progressed off into left field from there as the natural fallout from that, ha! :D
> 
> But yeah, Mizuuma had been wanting to do this for **ages** , and now we were finally getting down to it! *g* --I have to say that this one _was_ really, really fun :)


	34. Chapter 97.2: Why did the old man do this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Fixing things is fun! But... is this really 'fixed'?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 116 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/50008931). It was first posted on Oct 14, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\---

"Nn," said Bill. He twirled the 'credits’ card between his fingers. He'd thought stopping by that Blips 'n Chips would be the best idea ever, since they had 'change machines’ and 'currency converters’ of many types unknown to man! …but apparently a bit of Searching with his Eye for some Knowledge to convert into the local non-gold just didn't pay _here_ like it did back in his own dimensional set -- or at least not in the same _ways_ here. His payoff had been a lot lower than he'd been expecting -- he barely had enough on this thing to buy a single solitary planet! Really, he'd thought that juicy little tidbit would be worth a small solar system, at _least!_ He’d even passed on the info on how it could be _used_ to best-effect, to pass along to the species owning that particular machine! And _this_ was all he'd gotten for it? Really?!

...Oh, well. Wasn't like he wasn't used to being undersold and underappreciated! He'd just gotten into the habit of _not having to put up with it!_ (He’d pushed things along in his _own_ dimensional set to the point that people -- and demons -- actually _appreciated_ a good bit of useful information when they heard it! But apparently _here_ was a different story. It made him wonder about what exactly this local Bill Cipher had been up to, all these years, if…) ...With the laundry list of things that Stanley wanted him **not** -doing, he'd probably have to get used to getting himself _out of_ that habit of not-putting-up-with-certain-things again, too. _Annoying._

Bill still restricted himself to ONLY letting out a disappointed sigh at the measly little payout he’d gotten for his efforts though. No use complaining about things he wasn’t going to immediately do something about to change for the worse, after all. He stopped the twirling through his fingers of the card with a solid 'snap’ against the palm of the hand of his current vessel, then shoved it down deep into a side pocket of his clothing -- vessel and clothing both Miz-supplied.

"Having fun?" Bill asked his little sister, as she skipped along next to him, while he moved along at his own somewhat more sedate walking pace. Miz nodded, scanning everything they passed. "The crepes they have here are so intricate!" She held up one of the pastries, filled to the brim with various fruits and drizzled in creamy sauce. "I liked the smolemon one but I think the drackoberry is my favorite." She took another bite and mumbled. "It's sad that you can't eat it…"

Since Bill didn't like digesting the way she did, Miz had shooed him out of his vessel for a moment, then fixed it up to just do things like a human for now until she could help him tweak it to digest the way HE wanted it to. (...Which apparently wasn’t going to be right away, because now was food time according to him, apparently.)

"Ha," Bill laughed out, about sedately as he was walking. "This isn't my body; this is a vessel! I'm a being of pure energy! I DON’T CARE _what_ I eat in _this_ thing, as long as it doesn't do anything like that translation-injection process like it did _earlier_ , again!" he told her. (Really, his stupid human-ish body only had any sort of impact on his energy form due to the anchor that was attaching him to his body at-present.) "As long as the current physical form I'm inhabiting doesn't impact my energy form, it's not a problem! This vessel only did before, because of the way you set up the stomach in this thing earlier…" Bill trailed off.

"But this vessel doesn't do that anymore," Bill noted. " _Now_ it's a little closer to working like an exoskeleton," Bill told her, shrugging it off. Because, really, the main difference between this vessel and an exoskeleton _now_ (as far as Bill was concerned) was the complexity of the vessel's innards by comparison, and the ability for it to 'naturally' translate and more accurately map all of the sensations and sensory input of the vessel's pseudo-body back to his being, unless and until he decided to disconnect any of that, himself. (He'd already disconnected his sense of smell first-thing, because noses were _'yuck!’_ and smelling was _eww!_ ) "I can eat anything I want right now, no problem!"

To prove it, Bill reached over to pluck out a piece of sour fruit from one of Miz's crepes, tossed it into his mouth, and bit down. HA! (...Hm. He found the taste of it actually quite pleasant.)

Miz beamed when she saw Bill actually smile while eating. "So this means that I can cook _anything_ for you! And you'll be able to eat it!" She got up close to nuzzle her brother, thrilled that she had been able to move him into a vessel that let him be able to eat yummy stuff!

"Haha! -- _For now!_ " Bill said with a grin, patting Miz's head, as the two of them walked down the crowded streets. Miz seemed quite lost in thought at all the wonderful food she'd be able to make without dietary restrictions, while Bill was trying to gauge whether or not he’d be able to get any energy here that he could process before going to meet that local Bill.

(It was looking like he’d just have to resign himself to going without any local replenishment for now, and keep slowly drawing down weirdness and energy from his Mind to just as slowly replenish here what he was using here locally. It wouldn’t solve the overall lower-energy not-much-in-his-reserves problem he’d had going since well before Miz had arrived even for the first time in his ‘set, but grabbing energy _here_ to lower the energy debt he was incurring here, _or_ to try and refill his reserves even slightly back where he was physically, was probably a bad idea anyway. ...Well, it was fine. He could handle it for now.)

Miz nodded in understanding. Of course there was still the issue of keeping his actual body alive with enough nutrients in the meantime if he wanted to stay in a vessel even longer, but otherwise this was good! "You'd tell me if there was something I could do to help you get your energy back up, right?" she asked.

"It’s fine," Bill told her, patting-petting her on top of her head. "I always keep plenty in reserve, just in case." He wasn’t _worried_. ( _Uneasy_ wasn’t _worried_.) A little more time -- just a few hours, really -- and he’d have pulled down enough to be back to a decent level in what he had to work with _here_ without stressing anything, Mind or Eye or anchor, in even the slightest, even going as slowly as he was right now to avoid _any_ remotely possible detection from the local Bill, or any other possible-enemy within this ‘set, at least. "It’s just a matter of getting it _here_ to this projection of me without going too, haha, overboard in the process!" he told her with a smile. Because _yes_ , he didn’t like expending so much without knowing how likely he was to be expending even more later, but… what he’d told Stanley before was right -- he had no idea what was out there that he might have to handle or even fight off, and he could only prepare so much in advance of that for that eventuality, that eventual-possibility that may-or-may-not happen before he was ready for it. So he might as well start getting used to the uncertainty _now_ , in this, that he hadn’t had to face in a very long time...

Miz still looked a little worried. She didn’t want her brother running out of energy, ‘specially since it sounded like he had a harder time of generating it than she did. But if her brother didn’t want to ask for help, she’d have to let it be for now.

"So what now? The native Bill did a search earlier, didn't find us though," Miz commented, nibbling on her snack. "Should we confront him?" Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to meet him, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear his side of the story, right?

" _Confront_ him? --Really, little sis," Bill said with a sigh. "We come here, to his dimensional set, we move things all around on him, and then… we leave without saying anything? --If that happened to ME, I’d consider it _an ATTACK_ ," Bill told her. "RUDE!" He slipped out his ‘credits’ card abruptly, at seeing something he WANTED, waved the card at a nearby kiosk, and casually plucked up a ‘meat kebob’ skewer of some sort as they walked, taking a big bite out of it as he went. "WHY _WOULDN’T_ WE drop by and say ‘hi!’ We should _AT LEAST_ introduce ourselves and explain!" Besides, it wasn’t as though they hadn’t shown up and shown themselves in that other dimension where that not-a-triangle Bill Cipher had been before. If he’d noticed then or since, then leaving NOW would be _beyond_ rude; that was just BAD MANNERS!

"So… we find him and just… invite him for tea?" Miz asked, eyeing up several restaurants nearby. "I do hope he isn’t _too_ angry. I really don’t want to start a fight."

"Tea would be good. If he's a Bill Cipher like us," instead of a him-that-is-not-him, "Then he will like tea, too!" Bill nodded to himself. He paused to glance sideways Miz. "You _do_ like tea, yes?" She’d certainly seemed fine with it during their picnic!

"I love tea." Miz replied easily. Bill grinned as he let out a chittery-laugh. " _SEE?_ " he said, gesturing at her. _Of course_ she had good taste! Besides, with her liking food so much, why _wouldn't_ she have excellent taste in beverages? Like tea! She’d just about _have_ to, because of that!

"We should bring the tea to _HIM_ though," Bill told his little sister. "WE are the 'interlopers' here. It's only polite to go to _him_ , instead of making _him_ make the EFFORT the other way around!" It'd be too easy for that other-him to think that they'd been trying to avoid him, otherwise. ...And, remembering what they'd both seen when they'd first arrived, Bill added, "He Looked like he could USE some tea!" He'd seemed pretty frustrated overall, getting fought against like that, after all! --And Bill could relate!

Bill looked (and then Looked) around the marketplace that he'd recommended to Miz. "If this place is anything like the one _I_ know," and it didn't seem _quite_ that far off to him yet, despite the lack of understructure and a few other things, "Then this place should have the ingredients here for a decent pot of Cosmic Tea, or two, or three." Bill finished off his skewer and tossed it in a nearby waste receptacle, then laced his fingers behind his back and stretched his arms and shoulders a bit as he walked, before relaxing them again. "Could maybe brew up a good bit of Time Punch, too -- for later," Bill clarified. "After we've done the first bit of introductions and talking, maybe." Tea was good for serious conversations; Time Punch was great for celebrations. Bill knew he was being a bit optimistic, there, but… he DID like his plans, and, well...

Bill grinned. --After all, _Time Punch_ was a good thing to have on-hand for all _SORTS_ of occasions! HAHA!

"Oh! Should we make cookies or other tea-snacks to go with it?" Miz asked, skipping along beside her brother. "Like a whole picnic?" Bill grinned. "Even BETTER!" And why not? They’d told Stanley they were having a picnic after all; why not have two?

And so the two of them went strolling about the market, gathering up the things they needed; Bill even taught Miz a new recipe for mixing drinks as they went. She was quite delighted at the prospect and gave him a bright "Thank you!" to which Bill let out an appreciative (and proud) chitter.

Shortly thereafter, the siblings finished their ‘scavenger hunt-of-a-search’ and found an open eating area to sit down at and put together their little picnic basket of treats and other goodies. Miz even introduced Bill to the idea of spicy cookies, "Since you don’t like sweet things." (Heck, cookies were one of the few things she could bake, mainly because even if they melted or cracked, they were still edible. Unlike bread and cakes that could get ruined in all sorts of ways just because she thought it would be fine to substitute a few ingredients, or three.)

Bill pet Miz on the head, feeling warm inside at her thoughtfulness over the things he liked to (not just could) eat.

And once all that was done, they were off to ‘drop in on’ the native Bill!

\---

Something in the air was shifting. Bill Cipher glanced around. Something… powerful. He frowned, pulling his power in, strengthening his shields in case this was an attack. Had that damn lizard finally got off his lazy ass and decided to face him directly? He WAS just about to threaten Stanford into finally giving him the information he needed to bring down this dimension (though, with that restructuring he’d felt happening earlier, it wouldn’t be as triumphant as it originally would be, but it was _still_ a start for gaining power...

He blinked in surprise when two females phased into the world nearby -- not too close, not _quite_ close enough that he would count this as an attack, just a few meters away, while holding… a picnic basket? Bill stared. They were...

The smaller-looking female waved. "Hello! Are you Bill Cipher?"

Bill scoffed, straightening up and tossing a lock of hair back. "Well, who ELSE could possibly be _this_ handsome?" he winked at them, turning up the charm. (He kindly ignored the incredulous sound coming off the little triangles in the room of the Fearamid where he was threatening them.) Whoever/whatever these two were, they were quite powerful. Were they fellow gods? Probably. Inwardly, he frowned. Their energy felt familiar. But more than that, if he had to ask for who (or WHAT) could have restructured this Reality, it could only be them. They were _new_. He’d never Seen them before, but suddenly all of reality shifts and two god-level beings show up? He wasn’t stupid. They were probably one and the same! (Normally, he'd be right up for defeating and consuming another god to gain their power, but these two felt a little too much for him to take on both at once.)

The smaller female giggled. "Well, I suppose you _are_ kinda cute." to which the older female rolled her eyes and looked a little exasperated at the younger one's antics. Bill grinned wider.

"So, just going out on a limb here…" He sauntered over, long legs crossing the distance in just a few strides. "Are you two the ones who so thoroughly _ruined_ my plans?" He drawled, gazing down at them from his height.

" _Well_ ," the older looking female drawled back, meeting his gaze cooly with no sign of any intimidation, "I'd need to know what your plans _WERE_ to truly answer that." She didn't seem combative or defense about it, simply straightforward in her own manner.

Interesting. Bill raised an eyebrow. "Before all that, perhaps some introductions are in order? You seem to know who I am already but…" and here, his gaze turned mildly suspicious. "I can’t seem to See anything about who you lovely ladies are." It was rather annoying actually, he didn’t like NOT knowing stuff. But with the power he could _feel_ coming off these two, he couldn’t quite bring himself to attack them, not without knowing a little more about them; it was two on one and right now he didn’t know if he’d win.

"I’m Miz Cipher," the smaller female said cheerfully. "And this is my brother, Bill." She gestured to the other female. _Brother?_ Bill narrowed his eyes. Another person with the same name as him, and with energy that felt so familiar somehow… it didn’t take a genius to figure this one out.

"So, Bill Cipher from another dimension, eh?" Bill grinned, as the 'brother' simply gave him a nod. "And isn’t this just _interesting_."

"Miz, do you have any… 'nickname' for me?" the older female 'brother Bill’ said to the younger one. "It would be more polite than claiming THIS one's name for my own, here, in his own local backyard. --Not trying to steal your thunder, here," the 'brother Bill’ said to Bill, turning a wide grin at the local one. "And yes, you SHOULDN'T be able to See our pasts," 'he' said to Bill next. "I've had TROUBLE with that BEFORE. --It's for all of our own protection, including _yours_ ," Bill was told, which left him frowning.

"And, as a courtesy," this other Bill added, "I have chosen not to Look at _your_ Self and YOUR past, as well. A level playing field, as it were. --We can talk, as a start. I'm happy to answer any questions you may have." Then Bill felt a slight shiver go down his spine as he looked (and Looked) on, and this male-female him went from grinning at him to simply giving him a slight smile and-- the _power_ he was feeling wafting from this other Bill suddenly just… **VANISHED.** As if it'd never been there at all! (How had he _done_ that?!)

"Miz, nickname?" the 'brother' said to Miz next, otherwise not looking any different in outward appearance despite the vanishing of his aura of power, as 'his' sister(?) looked on and blushed. "OH!" The 'brother Bill’ clapped 'his' hands together and swiveled back to him, smiling more widely at him now and leaning forward as ‘he’ asked, "We aren't INTERRUPTING anything, are we?"

...said the older female as ‘he’ stood in the middle of the Fearamid with the rest of them, two triangles clutched in Bill's tendrils and another two held in a pyramidal cage of Bill's own devising, stones and rocks strewn absolutely EVERYWHERE from the gaping hole in the side of the wall nearby that that _stupid_ Shacktron had punched in it (again!!)...

...and waited patiently for a response to ‘his’ question from Bill.

Bill stared at this other ‘brother Bill’ and wondered if ‘he’ might be just a bit brain-damaged.

"...Or would you like some help from me and…" the younger female blushed as she said, "Blue," (the older female’s eyebrows went up a bit at this "Hm, _Blue_. ...Yes, that works.") and her blush got less red as she looked around, "In cleaning up first?" the younger female offered tentatively but sincerely after a beat, looking around at what she _apparently_ considered to be a mess that needed _cleaning up(?!)_.

And Bill blinked, the tiny child triangles in his grasp (as well as the older adult ones in the cage) staring at these interlopers. "Help?" With cleaning the place up? Was _that_ what they were both trying to get at? He frowned around at the debris. "Well, it IS quite messy in here. But, I’m sort of in the middle of something." He gestured around. Because _apparently_ they hadn’t realized that when they’d come in, and weren’t _going_ to realize it until he said something.

To this, the one named ‘Miz’ shrugged at him, though. "Ah, well, Time is dead, so you can wait a little? We kinda… wanted to talk." She held up her picnic basket. "We brought tea and snacks?" she said hopefully, tempting him with whatever might be in that covered basket.

Bill considered it. He DID want some answers, he could actually See what was in that basket right now when he tried Looking at _it_ , at least, and it wasn’t like those pesky Pines were going anywhere...

"Sure. Why not?" he grinned, moving the smaller twins so that they dangled in the air, wrapped up in ribbons of his power, instead. Why not just give Stanford a few more minutes to stew in his own fear for the nibling’s lives? It changed nothing, they couldn’t stop him anyway. Bill adjusted his tux and grinned at the other two Ciphers. "I’m guessing ‘Miz’ is a nickname? You’re also a Bill Cipher, aren’t you?" he asked, trying to get confirmation one way or the other; her energy was similar enough, but he wanted to be sure. He looked around. "A little clean up would be nice," he said next, rather calculatingly. Because he could see how her powers worked, by seeing what she did to ‘clean up’. (And he didn’t miss how Blue’s eyes narrowed slightly at his ask, either. A suspicious one, huh?)

Miz didn’t look suspicious though. She just smiled, waved a hand, and reversed the damage done to the Fearamid, the black bricks floating up and clicking back into place where they needed to be. She even formed a neat little table with three chairs for them to have their picnic at. "We’re from out of town, as it were, and thought it would be polite to come and say hello," she told him, setting the picnic basket down on the new table and opening it up to take out plates and cups and some napkins.

(Bill blinked. Miz had been very… thorough. He looked around and... yeesh, he wasn't sure the Fearamid had been this clean when he'd MADE it. The dust was gone, the scuffs from people running around were gone; there was even a nice scent of citrus in the air, as if she’d applied an air freshener as well -- did great for cleaning out the stench of sweat from the terrified shapes, he had to give her that.)

"Especially after changing things up on you, here," Blue said, as ‘he’ sat down at the table, on one of the chairs. "I know I wouldn't appreciate some drive-by messing-up of any of MY plans," Blue added, "Intentional or not. The lazy-stupid lizard around these parts thought as much, anyway, _not that I trust it_ ," Blue added more dourly, and with more than a little suspicion in 'his' tone. "So we thought we'd do the polite thing, and come see you in-person, after."

"How kind of you." Bill raised an eyebrow, striding over to claim his own chair. "So, what brings you two here to my little section of Reality?" he asked the two of them, as he sat down.

"Miz was curious, and wanted to go exploring," Blue told him, as he flipped the cloth that had been covering over the top of the basket out over the table instead, and the things currently on the table floated out and over to the sides, then up and around, to land back on top of it again, after the (table?)cloth had finished fluttering down through the air to meet the surface of the table, to cover it over. "I didn't like the idea of her going exploring out on her own, so I decided to go with her and See a few places, myself. See what was different."

"...and why have you gone and rearranged Reality?" Bill asked, accepting the cup and saucer Miz handed him, after she’d finished pouring it. Oh~ the tea was nice.

"It was completely UNSTABLE in structure and going to collapse, without even the most-basic of fixes," Blue told him, as he took his own teacup to sip from, with a 'mine; thank you' to his sister. "It needed FIXING. _Badly_."

"...that was kind of the point, yes. Collapsing everything in on itself." Bill picked up one of the sandwiches in a dainty manner, cut into neat little triangles and filled with meat and fresh vegetables. Hm. Not bad.

Blue eyed him. " _Interesting_. The lazy-stupid lizard said as much. Which really just begs the question… _Why?_ "

Bill scoffed. "The Time Giants are all DEAD. And with Time Baby dead as well, there’s no one left except me and that damn lizard. So all I’d have to do is take down this dimension--" he lifted his arms up to gesture around them "--and EVERYTHING would have come down. EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, IN EVERY DIMENSION!" He grinned, wide and unhinged. The triangles all stared at him in horror. "And once everything was in one place, mashed together under its own weight, I would take it all and make it MINE. Then that stupid lizard would be forced to start over, and once he tries, I can take that moment to _kill_ him and take it all for myself." He seemed quite pleased. "Then there would be no one LEFT except ME. And I can do WHATEVER I want with this world."

Blue looked at him over ‘his’ teacup for a very long moment, with not much expression on ‘his’ face.

"WELL," said Blue. "I think I see a FEW problems with your logic, there. --Would you like me to POINT THEM OUT for you?"

And Blue lifted ‘his’ teacup and took another sip of ‘his’ tea.

Bill frowned. "What do you mean?" He didn’t like being wrong. He glanced over at Miz, to see if she had similar criticisms as this _other_ interloper, but Miz was nibbling on the sandwiches as she swung her legs back and forth (the chair being a bit tall for her), seemingly distracted by the triangles in the cage that she was looking over. Bill looked back at Blue. "If I kill that lizard, I get to take over. It’s that simple." Bill said slowly.

"HM." Blue set down ‘his’ teacup. "WELL. I don’t know about _that_. --Let's start at the start then, shall we?" ‘He’ held up ‘his’ pointer finger. "Does Time Baby have the ability to reincorporate his molecules? Pulling everything into one single-singularity will do that FASTER." Blue held up another finger. "You and the stupid lizard are not 'the only ones left'. There are several _other_ 'ones' around, right here even!" Blue took a moment to gesture at the four triangles, large and small, and then at ‘him’self and ‘his’ sister. "Taking down this dimension will not take down everything everywhere anymore." Blue held up another finger for that one, then added an additional finger after _that_. "Everything mashed together includes YOU being mashed, and if you can't take control of everything SEPARATE, I _highly_ doubt that you have an actual _plan_ or _understanding_ of how it all 'suddenly' becomes YOURS by doing this," Blue told him, "Unless I missed something rather overwhelmingly and glaringly NON-OBVIOUS in how your lovely little setup is here, before or after we messed with it."

Bill was frowning at this point. "But--"

"Oh yes, _but_ -but-but," Blue said. " _But_ let's say that it DOES work that way, _just_ for the sake of argument!" Blue said, then pushed out a thumb. "The stupid lizard being mashed in with you means that it 'takes over' even MORE strongly than you do, before you have a chance to, by your own indicated ruleset." Blue set his teacup and saucer down, to let it float in the air next to ‘him’, and poked up the pointer finger from ‘his’ other hand next. "Putting everything in one place and forcing a start-over seems HIGHLY arbitrary to me, since from what WE saw of the stupid frilly thing, it'd be FAR MORE LIKELY to just curl up in a ball and sleep ON TOP OF IT, instead." Blue held up another finger on ‘his’ other hand. "The stupid lizard could EASILY kill you first before trying to start anything over." Blue put up another finger. "If the stupid lizard is rushing to restore things quickly enough that it doesn't have the _time_ to kill you first, then in the time it takes YOU to kill IT, _and_ take its power, _and_ figure out how to use it..." Blue grimaced. "You WON'T have the time yourself to be able to stop the progression yourself anymore. The stupid lizard's had forever to get used to its own power; you'd have LESS than NO TIME to do that, and probably DIE HORRIBLY while that is going on, as everything else finishes disincorporating in pieces around you, _along with YOU_."

"You don’t know that I can’t do that--" Bill began, starting to get annoyed.

"--And you don’t know that you _can_ do that, not for certain," Blue interrupted him saying, then shook his head and added, "But, even if you DO manage to pull ALL THAT off…" Blue held up a final finger. "There won't BE 'a world' to _'do what you want with'_ after you’ve done all that, just one _gigantic_ singularity-MESS for you to have to clean up all by yourself, instead," Blue frowned, "And NO-ONE to SHARE it with, later. --Now, how _BORING_ is that?" Bill asked him, lowering ‘his’ hands. "There are FAR easier ways to get yourself a little PEACE AND QUIET, if you ask me," Blue told him, leaning back in 'his' chair, to retrieve ‘his’ teacup from the air and then take another good sip of ‘his’ tea.

Bill frowned, because that _last_ part had thrown him for a loop. "But--" His brow creased even more, because he hadn’t even considered... "He _has_ to reset it--" The demon looked quite frustrated. "It can’t just… leave Reality all… fucked up! He’s supposed to--" His voice went up a little before he forcibly calmed himself and hissed out, "I can devour EVERYTHING and then I’ll be _stronger_ than that lazy sack of shit--" (One of the larger triangles in the cage gasped at this.)

"Ah, and here we come to the FINAL sticking point of your problematic and unworking 'solution'," Blue told him, with a sigh. " **We're talking about the lazy-stupid lizard here.** _Trusting it_ is a BAD IDEA. Trusting it to DO **ANYTHING** _for_ you is even worse! After all," Blue told him, "If it was safe to trust it to do _that_ , wouldn't it have DONE SOMETHING already? _Anything?_ ...Let alone done it all PROPERLY the FIRST TIME? --Have you _talked_ to it lately?" Blue asked Bill mildly. "It _doesn't_ seem to have learned from its mistakes. And," Blue grimaced, " _Devouring_ everything in existence won't do much, if you're not VERY careful when you're going about it. Certainly won't do anything to that lizard," Blue waved off. "--It'd probably just thank you for taking everything out of its hands, and go off to a new sleep FOREVER. And if you devour IT, too, then you won't even have anyone to yell at, anymore. It'll be just you, and nothing else, ever again. FOREVER."

While Blue ranted at this other Bill (and this other Bill ranted right back), Miz was frowning at her teacup, biting her lip and trying very hard to keep quiet. Because there were so many things she wanted to say, to express. And she wasn't sure if she should say any of it. This other Bill's plan to devour everything… wouldn't that just make him explode? Unless he didn't work the same way she did, but even so, devouring everything wouldn't fix anything. Sure it would make everything part of him ~~never leave again, mine, mine, mine~~ but it wouldn't necessarily fix things. Not at all. Even if he became everything, he still wouldn't know how to _be_ everything. Devouring Ax wasn't going to make anything better. But Miz didn't want to offend him by straight up saying he was wrong, and didn't know for sure if this world worked like her own either, what with the lack of the Pillar system, so she shoved a cookie in her mouth and kept quiet for now. Besides, destroying all of existence would be pretty bad, that wasn't a good plan at all -- and it looked like Blue agreed with her on that one, so Miz was going to let her brother talk the other Bill down from this plan. He was on a roll and she didn't want to impede him in what he was doing.

(And the way she used her powers was very different from him, even if they might look similar on the surface; she’d learned this while they were restructuring this reality, things here and things in brother’s dimension just… felt different than everything did in her own. Back in her own world, since her Weirdness and Energy had been used to help create the multiverse, she held power over them. They were her, they were parts of her, and that was part of the reason why things would simply start to happen around her if she wasn’t paying attention or keeping her power contained. The world, the people -- _everything_ was made from her! This was also why Ax had to work so hard to stay neutral. She had enough trouble keeping the world around her from distorting from her very presence, she could only imagine how hard it must be for Ax to keep from affecting the Souls of all the people in much the same way… well, she managed it through sheer willpower and self control, but she slipped up, a LOT. And for Ax… he simply _couldn’t_ afford any slip ups. Never. So he kept himself away from it all.

~~Miz briefly wondered if Ax could even affect _her_. It shouldn’t be possible since she was quite powerful in her own right, and Ax couldn’t really _make_ her do anything, neither her nor Time Baby. After all, Ax wanted them to get along but that wasn’t freaking happening anytime soon. So Miz was pretty sure she was safe on that front.~~

Bill put his teacup down a little more firmly than needed. "I--" He huffed. "I just want to--" He shook. "I CAN do this! I can! Even if it takes eons for me to figure out HOW to rework reality back to the beginning, I will figure it out and then I can get _them_ back and we could be together and there wouldn’t be any stupid--"

And at the mention of _'them'_ , Blue's head came up and ‘his’ eyes sharpened to a much stronger intensity.

And Blue smiled.

"WELL," said Blue. "That sounds like it's all WELL AND GOOD," ‘he’ told Bill, as he set down ‘his’ teacup (on the table, this time). "It even sounds like something _I_ am doing, myself! -- _BUT_." Blue leaned forward in 'his' chair. "You are leaving one VERY IMPORTANT thing out of your equation there, Bill."

"What?" Bill folded his arms. The little triangles in the air were struggling, trying to escape from the threads of his power. It was almost funny how they _still_ thought they could defy him.

Blue leaned forward and GRINNED at him.

"US," said Blue, gesturing at 'him’self and ‘his’ sister.

And then Bill saw Blue take in an almost-expectant breath, eyes gleaming, and Blue said, " _Would you like some **help?**_ "

Bill's eyes widened.

"Because if you want YOUR very-important 'them' _back_ , well," Blue's grin dimmed a little, "I do believe that both Miz _and_ myself understand THAT sentiment _**COMPLETELY**_. ...If you know what I mean."

And by the time that Blue was finished speaking, he looked completely and entirely sober.

Bill’s heart (if he still had one) raced. Help. They… they were offering to...

(--this wasn’t just some ‘offer’ to ‘help clean up the joint’ because they didn’t like the mess they were standing in, purely and selfishly for themselves, they were actually--)

_No one had EVER offered to--_

Bill looked over at Miz, and… she nodded at him, too. They both-- it wasn’t just the one of them, it was _both_ of them-- they--

There was a desperate hunger in Bill’s eyes, as he realized just _what_ exactly was really being offered to him, here. And Bill opened his mouth to immediately accept it -- why wouldn’t he accept it?! But then he paused, right there. Because his mind had caught up with him, and he realized…

"How do I know you’re not just _lying_ to me?" Because so many people had. Empty promises and failures!! Betrayal of trust and--

"Well…" Miz spoke up. "If I could, I would really want my little brother back." She looked down at her lap. "I was even willing to work _together_ with Time Baby if that would have helped to make it happen. So I know how it feels to want to get someone back. And what I might do to try and have it happen."

Bill stared at her. "Ew. Working _together_ with Time Baby? How desperate were you?"

Miz puffed out her cheeks in irritation. "Any plan was better than no plan. And I needed some way to reach through time to try and get what I wanted…"

"...And she did not have me as her brother then, yet, either," Blue concluded, which left Bill blinking, and Miz looking a little blushy herself. " _I_ ," said Blue, as ‘he’ crossed his legs and propped ‘his’ head up on a fist, "Am planning on fixing EVERYTHING _everywhere_. And I _do_ mean _EVERYWHERE_." ‘He’ gave Bill a look. "It wouldn’t make sense to leave things here so very not-even- _close_ to half-done, let alone un-done! And it wouldn’t make sense to do things that don’t take into account what the locals think and want -- and that includes you, doesn’t it? We ‘helped’ the lazy-stupid lizard," Blue pulled a face, "So-to-speak. And I don’t even LIKE the lazy-stupid thing; I HATE it. --You are a me-that-is-VERY-MUCH-ALSO-a-me. Why wouldn’t I help _you_ out, even more?" Blue asked him inquisitively. "I make it a point of practice not to lie to myself. That causes PROBLEMS. And you are a self-that-is-also-me. So."

Bill frowned. He couldn’t feel any sort of deceit happening here, and with the power he’d felt from those other two hims-who-weren’t-him-but-kind-of-were on their arrival, if the three of them worked together--

"We have more than enough will and power and _want_ and _need_ between us to do whatever we need to do, to get everything that we want," Blue said with a smile, almost as if reading his mind. "The only thing here that’s REALLY up for a discussion is, are all our wants and needs in alignment, and what is the PLAN that will ACTUALLY _get_ us those things?" Then Blue sat back and waved off, "And what would we be doing in which order, and how much. --Not sure how I’d feel about pulling you back to MY set to help ME out with things, anytime soon," Blue told him. "Things are a LOT more complicated there, compared to what I’ve Seen here. --You could owe me a favor, instead," Blue told him, "And I’d be careful on what I asked of you to collect. Or…" Blue said, holding his cup out to the side, "We could just exchange information instead, help you work out your plan, and you’d actually have to do all the ‘heavy lifting’ yourself, with your own Zodiac, no favors needed! --Up to you!" Blue told him with a smile, as the teapot lifted up into the air and tilted, starting to fill up the teacup in Blue’s outstretched hand. (...effortlessly. While this other version of him gave off no aura of power at all while ‘he’ was doing so. Which meant that...)

Slowly, a smile worked its way across Bill’s face. They could really do this, couldn’t they. Between the three of them, they… And what he’d been offered, just now? That he’d been all but promised, from _both_ of these two? That… that was more than he’d ever thought he’d get-- from _anyone_ \-- and all he’d have to give in return was some information? He was MADE of information! Well, not literally, not like they were asking him to rip of pieces of himself to-- not that he WOULDN’T be willing to do that if it meant he’d get his mommy and daddy back-- and---

"Alright, so how would we go about doing this?" Bill asked, sipping the (very nice) tea as his yellow eyes gleamed. He hardly cared about having had his spoken plans more or less verbally torn apart before; as long as they were going to help him make one that they all agreed and knew would work out, he couldn’t care less about what few small disagreements they might get into in figuring out that very thing along the way.

"WELL," said Blue, as ‘he’ pulled ‘his’ own teacup back in towards him, once it was refilled, "--And this is the tricky part, mind you," he told Bill next. "The _first_ thing you’d have to tell us, to get this all started, is WHAT YOU NEED." And it was clear from Blue’s expression, as ‘he’ sipped on ‘his’ own tea, that ‘he’ thought ‘he’ was asking a very dangerous and difficult thing of Bill there, in telling them. "Not just what you _think_ you _want_. What you NEED, at the end of it all. I’m talking the final, everything-is-absolutely-perfectly-imperfect-forever scenario, here. The whole ball of wax."

And Bill thought about it. He really thought about it. --Not just the immediate thing he wanted, but what he needed to really get what it was that he _truly_ wanted.

"I… want my mommy and daddy back. I… want us to be able to live together, in a world where they and I can be happy and…" (The triangles were gasping as they listened in on this conversation.) "...and they wouldn’t be killed for trying to protect me…" Bill finished. He paused then, waiting to see if these two demons were going to sit there and laugh at all his childish-sounding goals.

...And Blue seemed to be struggling with something, something to have to do with what he’d just said. Or… maybe all of it. "...You ...want your _parents_ back?" Blue sounded a bit strained.

Miz spoke up, "So your parents tried to protect you?" she asked gently. (And Blue glanced over at her, looking a little startled. He’d had so much difficulty with the _first_ concept Bill had tossed at them that he’d hadn’t quite gotten to parsing even one single bit of the second or third ones yet, let alone any of the next-level-down layers of it after that.)

Bill nodded. "They... " He paused. "I wanted to learn stuff. Even when it was forbidden for those of my caste to be allowed to--" (The demons all ignored the startled sounds coming from the triangles.) "--but they would help me hide my books. And they lied to the police about them. And they…" He seemed to struggle. "...they got gunned down. Right in our shop. Even though there wasn’t any PROOF that I had the books, even though--" He hissed a breath through his teeth.

Blue raised up a hand in front of ‘his’ face, touching his forehead with a finger. ‘He’ looked like ‘he’ was getting a headache.

"...And your sibling?" Blue asked. "...Or ...sibling _s?_ " ‘he’ added belatedly, sounding strained throughout.

At that, Bill blinked. "I… didn’t have any?" (Blue dropped his hand and stared at Bill.) "We were forbidden, we had to pay a fine if we wanted another child--" He frowned. "But, mommy said that she wanted to give me a brother or a sister, once we’d saved up enough money…" He pressed his eyes shut tightly. "But that didn’t end up happening."

Blue was staring at him now. "... _You didn’t have a_ …" Blue said almost breathily. ‘He’ sat very still in place for a very long moment. Then, finally, ‘he’ steepled ‘his’ hands in front of ‘him’, and lowered ‘his’ forehead down on top of them.

"I… _need a minute_ ," Blue said rather roughly.

Bill glanced over at Miz, confused at weird reaction from Blue. The smaller demon sighed. "I had a little brother. Blue had an older brother. They are the ones we want back."

Bill blinked, as the silence stretched out. "Oh."

Blue was quiet for about a minute. And then…

"Your parents... acted like… _brothers_ …" Blue said slowly. " _Right._ "

Bill was somewhat confused now. Miz translated, "Your parents actually _loved_ you. They protected you." And then Bill understood. He sat straight up, rigidly, staring at the two of them, as he realized...

"Your parents didn’t love you?!" Bill couldn’t even _imagine_ what that must have--

"--They ‘loved’ the concept of the space that I _ended up_ filling for them," Blue rattled off rather tonelessly, raising ‘his’ head after a moment. "‘Mommy’ and ‘daddy’ as… yes. Fine. I understand," ‘he’ said with a little more color to his tone, after a moment. "That’s fine. You want them back; it’s the same. The same thing." Blue pulled in a breath, then gave him a (not too very strained) smile.

"And then he can get that brother or sister!" Miz pointed out. "Because whatever fucked up government that forbid it wouldn’t be around anymore."

"That’s really ALL that you want?" Blue asked him. "It feels rather… small." Blue was frowning slightly. ‘He’ was staring at Bill, almost as if concerned.

Bill sat back in his chair. "Well, I’d wanted to know stuff, get rich and live comfortably. At first, at least. But that…" Blue _had_ asked what he wanted at the end of everything, hadn’t he? And in the face of what he _really_ wanted, at the end of all of everything... "...doesn’t really seem all that important. Not anymore."

"Yes, but…" Blue seemed to be trying to think of a good way to put… "--Oh, _fine!_ " ‘he’ sounded vaguely irritated. "I'll just ask-- HOW LONG are you wanting this to go on for," Blue rattled off almost hurriedly, like he was trying to quickly get to the point of something that he wanted to say.

Bill blinked. "...How long?" He thought about it. "Until we’re done, and then…"

"--Done, done, yes, fine; _define 'DONE',_ " Blue demanded out of him next.

"Done?" Bill looked back and forth between the other two demons. "It _could_ be forever, but that’d get boring after a while. And…" He sighed, seemingly tired. "I don’t think mommy and daddy would want to be around forever, but they had their own wants for the future and they never got a chance to-- I just want them to be able to be happy."

Blue was staring at him in sheer disbelief. Then ‘he’ let out a sort of chittery-groaning sound and scrubbed at ‘his’ face with both hands.

"yOu ArE _FINE_ wiTh tHeM **DYING** ," Blue said between ‘his’ fingers, sounding a little bit off. "And _staying dead_."

"Not dying." Bill narrowed his eyes. "Living until they’re satisfied. If they want to live forever, then I’ll let them. But if they’re done, I don’t…" He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, "I won’t subject them to anything they _don’t_ want."

Blue dropped 'his' hands and snapped out " _Of course not!! They’re your **br** \--_ ‘ **family** ’," Blue self-corrected with a grimace. Then ‘he’ tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. "Am I _really_ the only one here who’s thought things _this far through_ yet? REALLY?!?" Blue sounded annoyed as ‘he’ shouted this out.

Miz glanced over. "Well, would Liam want to live forever?" She asked gently.

"-- _Of course_ he would!" Blue exclaimed, looking back down at her, almost aghast. "There’s _always_ more to learn! ALWAYS!"

Bill and Miz were looking at ‘him’ now. "Then, you would have your Liam with you forever, if he wanted it." Bill said. "And I would have my parents with me for however long they wanted." He raised an eyebrow. "And my parents want to be with me. So if I wanted to be around forever, they’d want to be here forever. So it’s not like I’m-- it’s not like I’m going to make them die or--"

"--Yes, EXACTLY!" Blue said, looking over at him. "They won’t be ‘done’, as long as you want them with you, because they love you! And you love them! So ‘living until they’re satisfied’ _isn’t_ a thing -- they can KEEP ON LIVING and BE SATISFIED THE ENTIRE TIME! ‘Being satisfied’ is NOT a STOP CONDITION!! --It’s _SUPPOSED_ to be a _START AND CONTINUOUS_ ONE!!!" Blue practically yelled out at him, then started rubbing the side of 'his' left hand against 'his' left temple for some reason. "You… you don’t always say what you _mean_ at first," Blue said next, a little more calmly. "Faulty not-fault-tolerant concepts. I need to _ask_ for CLARIFICATION…" ‘he’ muttered, glancing away from him. "No translation errors…"

Bill looked a little bemused. "Ah… okay…" He glanced at Miz, who shrugged, long used to her brother's unique brand of insanity.

\---

Miz wasn’t just paying attention to her big brother and the other human Bill throughout all of this; she was watching the triangles, too. And right now? The triangles were still trying to escape, the ones in the cage turning themselves every which way to try and slide through the bars of the cage, and it seemed one of them had gotten stuck. Miz sighed, as she looked on at this. And when Blue glanced over at her sigh, and followed her gaze, to realize what she was looking at...

"You’re going to _break_ yourself," Blue said, grumbling, as he got up from his chair, because he’d looked over to see what Miz was looking at, and seen it, too. _So_ annoying. "Stop that. --You idiot. Are you _trying_ to die?!" Blue told them, as he walked over, Looking the stuck one over then letting out a sigh of frustration.

"--You mind if I...?" ‘he’ directed back at Bill, waving a hand at the stuck triangle. "He’s your Zodiac." It took Bill a moment, then it occurred to Bill that Blue was actually asking permission to lay hands on him.

The triangle, who looked like Stanley but wasn’t Stanley, glared as he kicked his legs. The near identical triangle dressed like Stanford who wasn’t Stanford, sighed, burying his face in a hand. "I told you this wouldn’t work."

"Well." Bill said, standing up from the table and dusting his hands off primly. "If you really ARE going to help me, I don’t need _them_ anymore--" He smirked at the shapes and a small pressure began to build...

"So you’ll let them go?" Miz asked (while Blue’s eyes narrowed at him slightly). Bill blinked at her, stopping the tension that had been about to spring out and--

"Uh…" He looked between the two demons, then looked over at the triangles, and then relaxed. "Yeah, sure, whatever." He snapped his fingers and lowered the kids to the ground, releasing them. The cage disappeared. The tapestries floated down and turned back into shapes as well. They all let out confused sounds. "Dunno why you care about that," he mumbled, realizing that Blue himself had reached out quite quickly to get ‘his’ hands under the one stuck-shape, who’d been wedged in-between the bars in an odd orientation, when the cage had disappeared.

Miz walked over to the shapes. They were so smol~ "Well, they’re not gonna be fighting you anymore. So it’s fine to let them go…" She waved at the tiny little triangles. "Hi! I’m Miz. You’re… Dipper and Mabel, right?" It was so strange to see them as triangles. They stared up at her, Dipper had a hand out in front of his sister, trying to put himself between Mabel and the demon.

Blue straightened up, holding the one older triangle in ‘his’ hands. --Not even grasping it, just _holding_ it, with ‘his’ hands underneath it. Bill didn’t get it.

"W-what are you going to do to us?" ‘Stanley’ asked, from where he was being held in this new blue-haired demon’s hands. ‘Stanford’ rolled his eye, "Don’t go askin’ them that!"

Blue looked down at the triangle he was holding. "Well, for starters, I think I’m going to have to think of a way to have you not _screwing things up_ for this other-me! We’ve got BIG PLANS for him!"

Then Blue blinked, then frowned down at the triangle in his hands a little suspiciously. "...Which one are YOU, anyway?" he asked of said held-triangle. He didn’t try to get eye-level with it (which would require either raising it, or lowering down his own head) having learned THAT particular lesson from Shooting Star and her spraypaint can. ...And the Shacktron and that dinosaur claw. …And--

(Well, let’s just say that he didn’t particularly feel like having to regenerate _either one_ of his -- count ‘em -- TWO eyes that he had, right now!)

’Stanley’ paled. "I-I’m Stan…" he stuttered out from where he was half-sitting half-being held in the blue-haired demon’s large hands -- which just had the demon eyeing him _that much more_ critically, oh no -- while ‘Stanford’ (still on the ground behind him) groaned.

"It’s fine, poindexter. I think we’ve blown our cover anyway by this point," the triangle that was Stan wearing Ford’s clothes said. Ford stilled in place at his brother’s words, looking rather tense and worried about the fact that Stan had given the ruse up so easily. But shortly afterwards he realized that his brother had been right to do so -- _this_ one looked far too suspicious to be fooled so easily.

"Your name?" the blue-haired demon prompted him, and Ford slumped and sighed tiredly, as he admitted to this new demon that he was, "Ford."

"Hm," said the blue-haired demon named (rather unoriginally in Ford’s opinion) both ‘Blue’ and ‘Bill’.

"Okay, so, bringing back your parents… are you going to need a 'pulling them here' through time thing, or are you planning to bring back your old dimension as well?" Miz asked Bill.

The other demon scoffed. "Oh I have no reason to bring that shithole back. It was an awful place. But I want my parents back and they can tell me themselves if they want anything or anyone else back."

"Ah. Yes." Blue looked a bit subdued as ‘he’ said this. "And here we come to a potential… _sticking point_ ," Blue said next, "That may make things take a little while longer." ‘He’ turned ‘his’ head, to not quite look over ‘his’ shoulder at Bill, as ‘he’ said, "...Have you done anything since your parents’ deaths that would have them, mm, _not too happy_ with you? Anything that they might not approve of?"

Bill winced. "...yeah…" He shook his head. "But they don't have to know! I can make a nice little dimension for them to live in and…" he shuffled a little. "Look, it's been like a trillion years, I've had to do a LOT of shit--"

Miz patted the other Bill's arm soothingly. "Yeah, we get it. Shit happens."

"And it’s not like they’d know if I don’t tell them," Bill told them next, but for some reason Blue frowned at this, not seeming to think that this was… possible? Bill rolled his eyes at the ‘guy’s apparent disbelief. "Hey, I can just have them settle down in a nice dimension with no contact to the others and then…" Bill frowned when he noticed the shapes were all trying to sneak out of the room. "--Oi, where are YOU going?" He asked. Silly Zodiac, really think they could leave and regroup for another attack?

Miz sighed. "Just let them go, it doesn’t matter. Even if they tried something, there’s three of us here." She turned to look at said Zodiac. "Right~?" she asked pointedly. The shapes all winced at the smaller demon’s not-quite glare. "Also, if you need a portal out to find some other place to set up a base or anything…" Miz suggested.

Bill laughed. "Well, considering the collapse of this dimension’s pretty much a wasted effort by now, sure. Any places you got in mind?" Bill asked leadingly, and Blue immediately started to grin. Miz tilted her head in thought, because was her brother considering...

Blue’s grin widened as he waved his hand in a lackadaisical manner. "Well! There’s a _nice **quiet** space_ we know of with plenty of _STUFF_ in it to work with…" and seeing as how he and his sister had been able to mess around inside the lazy-stupid lizard’s space without any retaliation… WELL!

"Sounds fun, though I will have to know more about where you’re planning to take us." Bill turned on his heel and snapped his fingers, using his power; the Shapes were floated into the air and sent out the door. The other demons packed up their picnic in short order and they all floated out after them.

"Hey guys!!" Bill called out to his henchmaniacs. " _Change of plans_ , we’re moving the party. This place is the dumps!" He straightened his suit as he floated himself down to them, prim and proper with his hands on his cane.

The other demons looked a little confused but, hey, boss’s orders were boss’s orders. Also, he wasn’t wrong. This place was so flat and boring, not much fun at all.

"What about that barrier?" Teeth asked. Bill frowned and looked over at the other two ‘hims’ from another dimension. Miz was flickering as she Looked around.

"Well, this feels nothing like your barrier," Miz told her brother. "It actually feels closer to the one I have back home. But… it isn’t stopping me or you from passing through it, which is how we managed to get in here in the first place…" She looked over at the native Bill. "But it _is_ keeping you guys in." She thought about it before she snorted. "There’s an insanely easy way around it," she told them, before she floated up and _grew_ until she towered over them all. (Really though, this dimension was waaaay less oppressive and constrained than her brother’s dimensional set. She could feel that almost 50% of her full powers were free for use here, as opposed to the less than 10% in the other world.) Then Miz reached up to dig her fingers into the edges of the barrier, and she pried them apart like tissue paper. She wasn’t breaking it, though; it would seal back up after she let go.

She grunted as the barrier shook, trying to seal itself back up. "Fly through the gap I made, then wait for us while we finish up with things here," she told the Henchmaniacs. They shrugged and did as she said -- hey, if there was a demon strong enough to pull apart the barrier that none of them could do anything about… yeah, they weren’t going to argue. Even the boss hadn’t been able to do that...

Once the Henchmaniacs were through, and Miz got the go-ahead (the slightest of nods) from Blue, she let go of the barrier and floated straight through herself without resistance to begin chatting with the Henchmaniacs. She’d open the barrier again once the older demons were finished with their talk.

Bill turned around, grin fixed on his face as he realized he’d just been left stuck inside here at Blue’s direction(?!) -- and about to ask ‘him’, _hey, what gives??_ \-- then blinked as he took in the scene behind him and realized... that Blue was still holding one of the Shapes there. --Wait a minute! He'd thought he'd tossed them all out the door of the Fearamid back there!

...except he'd actually lost track of the one Blue had been holding. Stopped paying attention to it, really.

"Hey, _what gives?_ " Bill complained, though for an entirely different reason than he’d originally been planning on complaining to ‘him’ about. Because why would Blue be continuing to cart that dumb loser triangle around with 'him'? "Why're you hanging onto _that_ lousy--"

"Insurance," Blue said cooly, cutting him off. "We're leaving 'here'," Blue said (for both Bill’s and Miz's benefit), "And won't be 'here' to stop them right away if they try and start something. Can't form the Zodiac if one of them can't reach out and hold hands with the other. ones of them," Blue told him next, with a shrug.

Bill frowned at this for a moment. How Blue was holding the squirming triangle. How Blue was _easily_ handling the squirming Shape without even trying.

...How Blue was just and only _holding_ it. Not holding it still, not holding it in a punishing grip; 'he' was just and _only_ \--

"...Problem?" Blue asked him easily, blinking slowly at him, as the Shape continued to squirm fruitlessly (and not actually _get_ anywhere) in ‘his’ arms...

"HA! No," Bill said. " _Solution!_ \--Can't do anything if they're DEAD, you mean," Bill said with a growing grin, slowly raising a hand. "It would just be _easier_ and I don’t need them anymore."

"L-let me go--!" Ford demanded almost helplessly. He hadn't liked the sound of _anything_ that had been happening thus far, and-- "S-Stan!!" he couldn’t help but cry out, even though he had no idea where his brother even _was_ right now, because Stanley had always helped him, saved him--

"That isn't necessary," Blue said smoothly to Bill, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. "I have things under control with this one, thank you. ...Unless you don't _believe_ me, when I say I have things under control," Blue added next, almost (but not quite) dangerously, and ‘his’ odd (and unexpected) tone of voice made Bill pause for a moment.

"...You don't want him dead," Bill said slowly, starting to frown. Because _that_ wasn't--

" _It isn't necessary_ ," Blue repeated. "Who knows, he _might_ be useful later. … _Maybe_ ," Blue noted after a moment with a bit of a sigh and an eye roll, at Bill's disbelieving look at the idea of a Shape _maybe_ being _useful_ in any way, shape, or form.

"...fine." Bill finally said, lowering his hand. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to antagonize the people who were offering to help him. (Especially while he was still trapped in this stupid town, and the only keys he had to getting _outside_ of said barrier were currently (a) floating outside of it, peppering his friends with questions about their most favorite snacks, and (b) quite literally being held in the hands of another version of himself that he still wasn’t sure he really wanted to cross.) No, he wasn’t doing that. That would just be stupid.

So instead, he looked up and drawled out, "So, should I go leave the barrier now too?" before glancing back over at Blue.

Blue pressed ‘his’ lips together and turned his head to look around at the dark sky and ruined town outside the Fearamid. "I think you may want to fix all this first; put things back to the way they were before you came. My sister would be upset if it stayed… this _messy_ ," Blue informed him rather dryly.

Bill blinked at ‘him’, then snorted. "Huh. She _does_ seem like a bit of a neat freak," he noted. He had clearly seen how clean she’d made the Fearamid, earlier. Huh. Maybe he’d misunderstood the head-nod that had been exchanged between the two demons earlier. This ‘Blue’ one did seem to be the more confrontational and chatty one of the two. If the younger one wanted him to explain why _she_ didn’t want him to leave just yet, then…

...Well, fine, whatever. Bill snapped his fingers as he floated in almost a saunter higher into the air, to land on the edge of the Fearamid again, looking out over the town. The scar in the sky closed, the animated buildings turned back to normal, the roads were fixed, the monsters were sucked back into the Nightmare Realm… yeah, put things back to the way they were before. Then Bill made the Fearamid float up even higher, closer to the edge of the barrier. He saw Miz looking down at them, and look around for a moment, before pulling the barrier open once more.

Bill floated himself and the Fearamid up through the open tear in the barrier, before stopping it all in place -- he was FINALLY out of that stupid thing!!! (Blue himself floated up and out shortly after him, before Miz let go of the barrier to let it snap closed again, after checking things over one more time, making sure of their staying power -- especially that of the Rift that just closed.)

"So." Bill placed a hand on his hip, feeling quite jaunty at the whole thing, as he quirked his eyebrow in a manner he knew looked quite fetching on his handsome face, "Where’s this cool other place where I can get shit done?"

Blue, still holding a thoroughly-horrified looking Stanford up against his chest, suddenly grinned at him rather widely. " _WELL_ …"

\---

"...This is the Axolotl’s realm…" Bill deadpanned.

"Yup!" Miz giggled even as she bounced on one of the many clouds there. Weee~! "Don’t worry about him, he doesn’t seem to mind us playing around in here!" she giggled, hugging Kryptos and Xanthar as they bounced around together. (The gray demon was laughing along, this Miz demon was pretty fun to hang out with. Xanthar was rumbling cheerfully as well, the mute demon liked how warm this new demon was, reminded him of Bill when he let him get that close.)

Bill felt around, the energy just… free-floating around here was… amazing. "That damn lizard really wouldn’t try and… stop me?" he asked faintly. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been trying to get up here for like… EVER! But he had never been able to figure out how, having believed that the process might destroy him or something ~~if he angered the all mighty god lizard~~ , but these other hims had made it look so… easy. And he’d just followed them up, letting the younger one carry all his Henchmaniacs along for the ride for him, and...

He heard Blue sigh. "That lazy-stupid lizard seems to… _like_... Miz?" Bill was told, though the blue-haired demon grimaced at that as ‘he’ said it. "It at least talks to her when she talks at it -- and even me when she’s with me -- when it’s here and awake and not _entirely_ lazy. I don’t think it wanted to talk to me, but it definitely seemed to want to talk to her," Blue noted, in an odd tone of voice that Bill couldn’t quite place -- but whatever was going on with Blue, ‘he’ seemed to shake it off after a moment. "--I don’t know _why_ yet, but it’s useful."

Bill looked over at the tiny little demon girl, currently riding piggyback on 8-Ball and laughing as he trotted around with her on his shoulders, and raised an eyebrow. There was something here, something important. Like a realization on the edge of his thoughts, so close but not quite there. So… for whatever reason, the lizard favored this… child demon? Odd, suspicious even, but so long as he could use this to his advantage...

"It won’t try to stop any of us while Miz is here," the blue-haired demon told him next. "Maybe ask her for some tips on handling the lazy-stupid thing sometime; it’s apparently more like the one she knows than the one _I_ have several problems with, in a lot of ways," he was told.

"Right." That was really all he needed to know. Because if the stupid thing wasn’t going to show up to stop him while Miz was here... "Well, I have a lot of work to do." Bill turned to the nearest ‘cloud’ and snatched it from the air. "A _lot_." He wanted to do as much as he could _while_ he could.

(And Blue sat down -- Stanford in-hand -- and _WATCHED_ him do it.)

\---

Bill… actually couldn’t believe this was happening. Finally happening!

Sure, he’d been dreaming of this for a trillion years, but in the back of his mind, he’d never thought it would actually _work_. (He’d thought he’d just end up _dying_ instead. Because of that stupid prophecy… after all, why else would the damn lizard tell him that when he burned, he had to invoke it’s name?! Like, was that meant to be a threat? --The stupid jerk! Well, he’d gotten away with this, now! It paid to have a bunch of other-him’s on his side, to scare the stupid thing off! Who was laughing now, huh!? --That’s right, it was HIM! He was getting EVERYTHING HE’D EVER WANTED, AND--)

He’d created a little planet, all his own. He’d managed to pull forward his parents (with Time Baby dead and the Axolotl being a no-show...) -- Bill was able to grip and pull them out through time without anything stopping him at all! Heck, Miz had even helped him create a new dimension where his Henchmaniacs could live and rampage and do whatever they wanted in, without bothering him for ideas for something fun for them to do all the time. Miz had populated the dimension with billions of soulless lifeforms that his demon friends could mess with without Time Baby giving him any grief about it once he reformed himself; that dumb baby didn’t want soulless beings to boss around, so he wouldn’t come after any of them wanting to grab them for himself. --They were very well made, too; Bill wouldn’t have even known they were all unfeeling constructs if he hadn’t watched Miz craft them right before his eyes. She claimed that it was better to play around with toys that weren’t real people who would feel pain or loss, then to go around hurting real people. (Well, whatever floated her boat.)

Miz was very proud of herself. She’d made a world where the Henchmaniacs could live, with people who were all fully made to act like people. And, if they got bored, they could head out to another dimension where real people were, as long as they promised not to harm or bother the real people.

"If you want to kill people or rampage, just go back to the toybox," Miz grinned. It seemed like a perfect solution to her. The constructs she’d made weren’t even sentient, she’d specifically made them so. There _was_ a bit of a chance they might develop sentience over time -- and if they had children, the next generation would definitely develop Souls -- she knew this from her time observing the Penis Planet™. So she took steps to make sure these constructs wouldn’t end up like that.

(Blue tried not to frown over this. There were problems with the idea of this, least of which would be the constraint that would keep the local Henchmaniacs locked into that ‘toybox’ if they tried to leave while wanting to hurt other-lifeforms with a Soul. --There were too many ways to circumvent it, for a start: they could leave while not wanting to and change their minds later without getting pulled back into it. The other problem was that it was a trap; if they wanted to get out, they couldn’t, which was taking away their choices from them, potentially turning it into a localized hell in the long-run.)

(At least… Blue had _thought_ that was going to be a problem, until he watched Miz keep _not adding in those constraints_ that she’d talked about with them, and Blue realized there were literally no restrictions in and out of that dimension for any of the local Henchmaniacs at all. There was nothing holding them there. Nothing even remotely set in place that would hold them to what she’d just offered them -- given and then demanded of them really, this ‘only killing or hurting things in the toybox’ -- and that they’d all said they agreed upon, because Miz was clearly more powerful than any or all of them combined. It was… almost like Miz was just… _trusting_ them to hold to the agreement without-- oh. Oh. She was _trusting_ them to hold to their _agreement_...)

(...Oh, that was _such_ a bad idea. These Henchmaniacs weren’t like _them_ \-- they had no reason to keep their word, no reputation with the rest of the multiverse for hard-and-fast dealing that they cared about keeping intact! Their reputations _here_ , to a T, were ones for rampaging and killing instead!)

(Not to mention the fact that these local Henchmaniacs _would_ get bored to death in there, and start rampaging elsewhere, eventually, with the way that Miz had things currently set up. If there was one thing that Blue knew, it was demons and beings. And with those things in there, not being sentient, there was going to be no _challenge_ to it. No change or _learning_ going on, on the part of the being-killed soulless; no newness or increase in difficulty level or _surprise_ or change to anything, including those soulless’ reactions, once the Henchmaniacs had exhausted all possibilities and variations for killing them -- and it didn’t look like it was going to take too long for the ‘maniacs to explore all of _those_ that were there. Not to mention the fact that there was nothing preventing the ‘maniacs from either pulling those soulless constructs _out_ of there, to do who knew _what_ with them, mixing them out into other dimensions instead, or pulling Soul-holding beings _into_ that toybox instead, and...)

(Blue pulled in a breath, and he let it out slowly. ~~He flexed his hands around the triangle he held in his lap without realizing it, and stopped doing so at the triangle’s immediate distress just as without realization and as quickly, by feeling of touch alone.~~ \--He’d have to have a talk with her once they were back in his own dimensional ‘set. The way things were going to progress here, over something like the next hundred-thousand years at _most_ , would have Miz coming back to a lot of broken ‘promises’ and potentially losing her temper over it badly -- and _that_ was assuming that one of these local Henchmaniacs didn’t have the ‘brains’ to _get creative_ about things even earlier than that. This was _not_ the way to try and entice demons or beings not to do things and expect results. --Going against the flow NEVER worked. People and demons wanted what they wanted; instead of denying it, it was better to work _with_ it -- _catering_ to it, instead. Give the people-and-demons what they want; _why not_ do it, as it were?)

(--For instance, finding a group of Soul-holding thinking beings that _liked_ and _wanted_ to be hurt and killed would be the better option, then setting up processes inside the dimension to automatically un-kill them once done; locking it with a barrier not quite like the one that she’d opened in that other dimension here, one attuned instead so that Time Baby could _never_ get into it to cause problems; allowing the recruitment of others into the ‘toybox’ to keep things interesting and ever-changing, keeping the Henchmaniacs engaged in doing things _there_ where they would not ever be interrupted, instead of elsewhere where they would be; auto-ejection of those who did not want to hurt or die anymore into a holding dimension elsewhere. ...Something closer to how his sister had set up her library-maze, in fact -- only with death and then un-dying again as a part of it, here. The idea was to create _incentives_ for them doing what you wanted them to do, not _dis_ incentives for doing things otherwise. The former was self-perpetuating due to greed and inherent-want; the latter would be broken eventually-and-always, sooner or later, because people (and demons) never _stopped_ wanting what they wanted -- they just wanted it more and more when they thought they couldn’t-or-shouldn’t get it! And eventually, they _would_ want to scratch that itch, and then they would do it. And usually -- in Blue’s experience -- they would almost-always do it at the absolute _lousiest_ of most-inconvenient times.)

(Then Blue had to pause for a moment. Because… he’d been thinking under an old and usually-perfectly-correct assumption, but. --These _weren’t_ demons-from-the-outside here, they were just... _demons_. They might as well be _people_ , for all the similarity they had to the demons from his own dimensional set. If anything, they were likely more like the ‘demons’ from _Miz’s_ ‘set, which meant... _These_ Henchmaniacs were probably going to **die** _well_ before that hundred-thousand years came rolling around, if that local Bill didn’t do something about it, and _that_ was a whole other problem…!)

While Blue was frowning over all of this (and the triangular Ford was still trying not to lose his mind over having had to watch all of those demonstrations on how one could kill such realistic-looking people without worry, as they had screamed and screamed and then gurgled out wetly and horribly, as they’d had limbs torn off and holes punched straight through them and then bled out and _died_ there where they’d lay right in front of him, without him being able to do a damn thing about it!), Miz was earnestly explaining to this universe’s version of Teeth and Hectorgon about all the ways they could go around harmlessly pranking people if they get bored of messing with the soulless constructs. They were just nodding along at first, humouring her… until Miz gave them such a sweet, trusting smile that they realized if they ever broke her little heart, they’d feel like complete dicks.

_’Don’t look at us with such eyes!’_ the two of them complained in their thoughts. This just wasn’t fair at all!

Meanwhile, Bill was busy coming to terms with his own final wanted happily-ever-after. He had his parents’ Souls, pulled back into the world again in the here-and-now, with only the most minor of help from both Miz and Blue to get him here, to this physical place where he’d actually been able to stand here and do it. All Bill had to do now was to actually bring them back, Mind and Body, and.. that was it. He could settle them into the new world he’d made for them, and then...

...and then that would be that. He would have his family back.

It almost felt too easy.

...and maybe it was, in some ways. Miz had told him that he was lucky his dimension hadn’t become a new one after being destroyed, and how his Axolotl was leaving so much free energy around to use, because it would have been more difficult otherwise. (Blue had stayed silent, but rolled his eyes slightly at this, for some reason.)

But, also, having three Bill Ciphers working together had definitely helped to speed the process along. Bill still couldn’t believe this day had finally come.

"Hey, um… I know you said you were just gonna hide what you did from your parents, but you can’t lie to them forever," Miz spoke up as she floated beside Bill, looking at the two Souls swirling around inside the bubble she’d suggested that Bill put them in for now. "And it’d be better to tell them yourself than having them find out. Heck, just… break the news to them gently, start small?" the girl suggested.

"Bad idea," Blue noted dryly, adding in ‘his’ own two cents. "If they’re going to be around _forever_ with you, they’re going to find out _eventually_. --Might be better to FIX EVERYTHING that you had to destroy before this, on the path-and-way to finishing-up before getting them back, _first_."

"...Or maybe I’m wrong," Miz noted, glancing over at Blue for a moment. "I actually don’t know how they’d react to any of what you’ve done. But I hope you get your happy ending," she told him cheerfully.

Bill sighed. "You sound very childish when you put it like that." And yet, he did feel somewhat more confident at her words. (At Blue’s though, admittedly not so much. What a downer.) "I’ll figure something out. And…" He glanced around at the pink clouds. "Now that I know how to get up here, and all the things I can do while I’m here… I can fix whatever mom and dad want me to fix. I’d be able to--" He just hoped they wouldn’t be too mad. He also hoped they didn’t ask for him to bring back their old dimension. There was no reason for it, nothing about it that Bill really cared to want back. But, if they really asked for it, he would.

Bill glanced over at Miz again, noting that she was now cradling that Shape that they’d kept with them this whole time in her lap; it was trembling in her lap there. (She’d taken him away from Blue again; they’d been passing the shape back and forth between them, as they’d each taken turns helping him out throughout all this work that he’d been doing.) "So… what now?" Bill asked.

Miz hummed as she pet Ford and kicked her legs idly. (The Shape had more-or-less calmed down somewhat over time as he’d realized the demons weren’t… actually hurting _him_ … even if the one who was petting him currently had just gotten done horribly killing so many of those people she’d apparently brought into being, people that she’d made just to be able to kill in any horrible way that she or those other demons and nightmares might like, while not calling them people and claiming that it was all okay because they had all been made ‘without souls’ within them -- which was just another sort of horrifying to him. ...Frankly, he had started thinking this was all some truly fucked-up dream a while back, that maybe Bill had just shocked him into unconsciousness again and actually left him to it this time, finally).

"Well, I’m gonna have to get brother home to his own dimension," Miz told Bill. "We ended up staying here longer than I thought, but even just from this first Door I’ve visited, I’ve learned so much." She’d gotten to fully examine a world without pillars! One that wasn’t built on a web-matrix with an AI Axolotl like Blue’s world was, either. It was interesting! She still wanted to examine Blue’s world more fully, but it was too dangerous; the AXOLOTL there was much more… scary. But here, here she’d been able to Look around to her heart’s content.

"You’re leaving?" Bill blinked. And, he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was. They weren’t from this world, this dimension, after all; of course they would leave eventually.

But part of him did feel a little… sad at that.

"I can come visit, if you want?" Miz offered. "Though there are so many Doors, it might take some time to find you. But… I’m gonna work on that, learning more about my Doors and just how they work, what I can do with them…" She frowned. "And how to notice and stay away from those Glitched ones…"

"Glitched ones?" Bill frowned. What was she talking about?

"Eh, Bills that aren’t Bills anymore. Not… quite…" Miz shook her head. "It’s not something you’d have to worry about unless you try to open my Doors. _They_ can’t open any of them. They’d need one of us to open it for them." She gave Bill a shrug. "So, if that Door starts rattling, don’t go near it, don’t open it. It’ll leave eventually." Miz nodded to herself. "So… just don’t mess with my Doors and you’ll be fine."

"Just to be clear," Blue spoke up abruptly. "We’re talking about Doors like _that_ ," Blue said, pointing to the side.

Well _that_ was ominous. Bill slowly turned in the direction that Blue was pointing, and…

"There may be one like that now, inside your Mind," Blue told him next, as Bill stared at the door that was somehow just THERE in the Mindscape, hanging there in space.

...and Bill firmly resolved to stay the fuck away from any doors like the one he could now see floating nearby. Even as he watched, it faded and vanished. Well, yeah, gonna ignore it. (There BETTER not be one like that in his mind!) More importantly...

"So you’re leaving." Bill didn’t ask, he knew they were, but he wanted to have confirmation of this.

"Yes," Blue said. "But if Miz wants to find you more easily again, I will help her do that. Mark her Door on _her_ side in a way to make it easier for her to find you again, quickly." ‘He’ didn’t exactly look like ‘he’ _wanted_ to come back here anytime soon ‘him’self, and Bill was fine with that. (Miz seemed a _lot_ easier to get along with than the older one; Bill felt a lot less threatened by _her_.)

"Yeah, I’ll find a way to keep in touch, if you want. I’ve got an interdimensional Tumblr blog that I can accept messaging and stuff on as well?" Miz rested her chin on Ford’s top point, nuzzling the triangle (and confusing him further). "If you want," she repeated.

Did he want? Bill wasn’t sure. Part of him liked the idea, the other part of him thought he’d relied on these other-hims enough already. But, it wasn’t like he would be asking them for help again, Miz just… wanted to keep in touch. That… wasn’t… a problem, right?

Bill looked back at the Souls of his parents. Well, regardless, he kinda… owed these two for everything they’d helped him with. (And he _had_ promised to exchange information with them for it; they hadn’t exactly done any of that yet. Not really. ...Maybe he should do some of that before they left, so they couldn’t coerce him into doing even more of it later.) Though, speaking of which...

"Blue said the Axolotl would leave me alone while I worked here, because you were here. What’ll happen once you leave?"

"Hm…" Miz didn’t seem worried. "I’ll ask him nicely to let you do your own stuff. I think he wouldn’t mind so long as you’re not trying to destabilize or destroy dimensions anymore?" She gazed off and away, Flickering as she checked up on this world’s resident Ax. Hm, sleeping. Figured.

"Getting rid of dimensions for no reason is a bit of a waste of time and energy. And it does seem rather lazy overall," Blue noted. "If you get in a staring contest with it long enough and win two times in a row, or try complaining at it for too long about things that involve it actually needing to do its stupid job, it seems ready to float away pretty quickly."

Was it really that simple? Bill couldn’t believe it, but, all the same, he was going to keep his guard up in case the lizard tried anything. At the very least he should go get his parents set back up in their new dimension, their new home.

Home.

The idea made him feel giddy in a way he hadn’t been in eons.

\----

"So… that was fun, and informative!" Miz declared once the Door had closed behind them. They’d talked with that HumanBill for hours about the way his powers worked, the way he manipulated the world around him... It was cool to compare notes, so to speak. (Blue had helped her try out a new technique this time, one that _didn’t_ require her to go inside other Bill’s Mindscapes or Dreamscapes. And it had worked! ...Even if it was a _lot_ more tiring. --Her brother had apparently been working on it for awhile now, not having known that Ax had already fully removed the restriction he had imposed on her before, on the creation and location of her Exit Doors back to her own Dreamscape-proper. Blue had apparently known how Miz and Seb had left his own dimensional set, but he hadn't known that her not needing to use the one that was still sitting somewhere within his own Mind had been a one-time thing or not. So he’d been working on alternatives in the meantime, and she'd been game for trying his way of doing it this time with him, but… she kind of liked her own way of doing it better.)

(She was actually feeling a little drained in general, now; while they’d had free reign on that Axolotl’s Realm for building material, she’d felt bad about using it herself at all and had used a lot of her own power for the stuff she’d built, instead. She hadn’t ended up quite as tired as Blue had gotten all of a sudden at the end there, but while he’d dropped down and out-and-out crashed farther and much harder than she had, he’d also seemed to _recover_ after all their work rather quickly; Miz, on the other hand, was still feeling almost as drained now as she had been right after they’d finished fixing that dimensional set’s setup, even after sleeping and eating a few things in that other dimension.)

(They’d really only rested the once while they’d been there, and before leaving they’d only taken a quick detour to drop off that ShapeFord, no additional rest before going, and…. Blue had quickly done _something_ to him, that Miz was pretty sure was supposed to keep the Shape from being able to do the Zodiac with the rest of the other Shapes easily, knowing him. But Bill hadn’t actually explained, and Miz had been too tired to ask at the time, when he hadn’t offered, and… she could ask him later though, right?)

"Fun and informative, yes," said ~~Blue~~ Bill. (Bill Bill Bill. --He could reclaim his own name now. Now that there wasn’t another Bill who wanted to be called Bill with them, he didn’t have to be polite at all about it! …but now he was struck with the thought that this was Miz’s space, so _technically_ maybe he shouldn’t go taking it back for himself just yet. It had been a little uncomfortable for him, though, to go by a name that wasn’t his own when Miz had only just given it to him -- it was so _new_ that he hadn’t broken it in yet AT ALL! And having a not-broken-in name when he hadn’t been holding onto the name ‘Bill Cipher’ at all underneath it, either, was… difficult and almost a little _uncomfortable_ , really.)

(...Was it uncomfortable for Miz when she did it, too? It occurred to Bill suddenly, looking at her, that Miz had had to effectively give up her chosen name of ‘Bill Cipher’ while staying in his dimensional set with him, and... he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, now. Because sure, she was used to taking on different names in different forms -- he knew that -- but so was he when he was puppeting people about, from time to time. Especially when he’d been doing it with Sixer-- Nevermind that. But it was _different_ when you were just ’masking’ your name, and not giving it up entirely. … _Had_ Miz really given it up underneath it all though, like he’d done while they’d been visiting that other set? She still seemed to cling to it strongly, so maybe not? But she also seemed to do things rather differently than he did, most times… not that there was anything wrong with that!)

Bill frowned. He had a lot to think about, himself. That dimension had been _really_ different from his own. And the damn lizard there was… actually _manageable_ , almost. It had talked to him. Actually talked to him. ~~Without him having to--~~ And not just because Miz had been there, he realized only now, well after the fact, because if _that_ had been the case, then wouldn’t she have had to _ask_ -and-or-demand that it to talk to him, for her, to get the lazy-stupid lizard to do it? But she hadn’t done that; he hadn’t had to ask her to do it.

Bill glanced over at Miz, wondering if she’d done something that he hadn’t seen to force the lizard to ‘play nice’ with him, and... suddenly noticed how pale she looked. --And they were still in the Dreamscape. _Her_ Dreamscape, if he’d understood her right, and _this_ was a place where she should be at rather the height of her power, second only to her own Mindscape. Which meant--

" _What’s wrong?_ " he demanded of her, as he floated over to hover next to her, feeling worried.

Miz waved him off. "I’m just a little tired. I’ll be fine once I get somewhere safe to rest." But her brother frowned at this. He’d thought _he’d_ been the only one to be that tired over everything. --Why hadn’t she said anything _before?_ Had making that ‘toybox’ really drained her that much further? Why hadn’t he _noticed_ this sooner?!

\--Well, Bill wasn’t going to risk Miz getting hurt if she was so drained. Not when he didn’t have any tried-and-proven techniques for handling any of those ‘glitch’-Bills’ yet! So despite how he still wanted to check out other dimensions -- _not that ‘anti-Bill’ dimension, though_ \-- he grimaced and declared, "We’re heading back to my dimensional set, right _now_. You need REST." It hadn’t escaped him that _he’d_ gotten a lot more rest than she had before, too, and… now that he reviewed his own memories and all of what he’d Seen, he realized that anytime he’d been watching her, she hadn’t been using nearly as much external energy for what she’d been doing with _anything_ that she’d done as he had.

"I’ll be fine!" Miz insisted, which only made Bill take her hand and pull her with him towards where he could just _feel_ his own Door. And as he went, he memorized the words on, and look of, the Door they’d both just come out of. It took him only a moment to do so, and once that was done, he made a backhanded motion with his free hand, trying something new, tried ‘splashing’ the Door with ‘paint’ of a recognizable and distinctive color and type, so that his sister -- as promised -- could find it again easily if she really wanted to. (--He used Bled, actually. He wasn’t _about_ to go back to that dimensional set anytime soon if he could help it, and _that_ particular ‘color’ could serve as a **warning** mark and sigil to himself and others, for all he cared. Maybe he’d left things only half-broken-to-being-fully-fixed there, and maybe he’d have to go back there _eventually_ , but he _DIDN’T_ have to like how all the Zodiac there were Shapes, _as a start_.)

" _Will_ ‘be fine’? --No," Bill told her. "--I mean _yes_. Because _**I**_ ‘will’ MAKE it fine! --I’m your big brother, and I’m telling you -- we’re getting you _back_ to my dimensional set, and getting you some _food_ for energy for your Self in you, _**RIGHT NOW!**_ " he declared outright (rather self-righteously ~~as much so as Sixer could get at his worst~~ , almost).

Miz rolled her eyes but there was a fond smile on her face. "Alright~" ~~She did hold back the urge to complain about the Bled on HumanBill's Door though.~~

\---

Back in the Reverse Flatland dimension, Stanford was finally dumped off back home by the female demons, after they had left that odd dimension of fluffy pink things called ‘clouds’. The one called Miz had even jokingly told him to ‘behave himself’ before setting him down (and Blinking away).

(Ford shuddered a bit in place where he stood. Where he’d finally been left alone, by himself, behind. He hadn’t exactly _liked_ the way that that other ‘Blue’ Bill-demon had _looked_ at him -- and muttered something while waving a hand at him, too -- right before she’d gone and disappeared on him herself.)

Ford could only stare off into the distance, feeling all sorts of off-balance.

"GRUNKLE FORD!" a high-pitched voice screamed before Ford was tackled by… by his niece from behind?

"M-Mabel?" Ford trembled in place as he turned to wrap his arms around her, in shock and absolute wonder. She was alive. _He_ was alive. He… he’d… actually never thought he’d see them again.

He looked up from his grandniece as he heard other yelling, and he realized… His brother and Dipper were running towards him too.

(Was… was this a dream? Hadn’t he been dreaming? Or was this... right now… actually...)

Stan pulled him into a hug, crying and trying not to show it. "Dammit poindexter! Don’t scare me like that again! I thought they’d _eaten_ you or something!"

(No. No, this was far too crazy to be anything _but_ real, and really happening. And the way Stan was hugging him now…)

...Well, Ford might have been crying a little bit, too, as he hugged his twin back just as hard, if not harder.

Not that either old triangle would admit to such a thing, later.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Well..... I don't think MizBill really knows what a perfect solution is...
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  -A Bill. Shapes. Ha. (*pokes* ...foreshadowing?)
> 
> :)
> 
> \--Yup, you saw it here first, folks! _-A Bill_ is the **only** "almost-adult" in the room! (I almost feel sorry for him. _Almost._ )
> 
> Also: Bled. *snickers*


	35. Chapter 98: Now I’m inside your home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> Didn't think I used up that much energy. But... Having brother worry about and take care of me feels nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 117 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/50257667). It was first posted on Oct 21, 2019.

\---

With their successful venture out into another dimensional set behind them (and Bill being absolutely _insistent_ that they go back and get Miz something to eat someplace that Bill was absolutely certain was ‘safe’, as ‘safe’ as Bill knew he could make any place at all right now), the demons headed back to Bill's Door, ‘set and dimension, and settled back into their body (Bill) and vessel (Miz), respectively.

The tired-out younger demon was quite satisfied to know for certain, as she watched her brother return to his physical form safely and then did similar right afterwards herself, that Bill COULD be moved into a different vessel without breaking his anchor. This meant she could make all sorts of cool vessels for her brother to play around in!

(Before Bill moved back into his body, though, he took one good Look Around at a few key things… deliberately letting nothing impact him Mentally yet, just gathering all that information up without actually processing it yet, or even letting it register yet really -- he was far more preoccupied and busy with Miz and her state of Mind at the moment, and he wanted to stay that way…)

Miz stretched and groaned, settling back into a body with bones and muscles. Mm… gravity. Joy~

She glanced over at her brother, shifting and stretching in place on the blanket on the ground next to her himself; he let out a soft humming-chitter that (weirdly enough) sounded almost like a cross between a yawn and a groan, as he finished his shifting and stretching, and she asked him, "Should we go tell Stan that we're back?"

Bill was slowly checking himself over, making sure his harmonics weren’t too out of tune, that everything was in place where it should be, and that the anchor itself was still fine. "Hm." He thought for a moment, then nodded and slowly sat up. "Yes," Bill said. "Then eating. All of more of the eating." He gave her a long look until she blushed and nodded. "-- _Good_."

He patted her on the head, then the demons slowly got up from the sheltered area and packed up their picnic. Miz noted, as she discreetly took down their protective barriers (and her brother checked his phone and... _paused_ for a moment, starting to frown for some reason…) -- Ford was still spying on them from the porch. ...Well, wasn’t like he’d have seen anything except the two of them taking a nap. She wasn’t worried.

Miz finished what she was doing, Bill chittered something disparaging under his breath to himself as he finished doing whatever he was doing rather rapidly on his phone while Miz got her cuffs back on, and then he shoved his phone rather roughly back down into his pocket and helped her grab up the remnants of their picnic and basket-plus-blanket; and with that, they both headed back inside. Miz even waved at Ford (who looked rather sour-faced at them) as they passed him right on by.

Bill came to a halt abruptly in the middle of the living room, trying to decide between attic and kitchen, attic and kitchen, but he only stopped in place for a moment, as that Stanford came into the house behind him, before making an ‘executive decision’.

\---

Once Bill was sure that Miz was all set and safe inside his attic room (resting and eating and drinking more than a few of the stasis-stored ‘leftovers’ he’d retrieved earlier, from previous trips elsewhere, ones that he’d pulled out of his hat for her before) he left her comfortably recovering from all of their other-dimensional-set work upstairs, while he went downstairs to formally tell Stanley the first bit of their news: they were ‘back’ and ‘done with their picnic’. And after that… well…

... _EVERYTHING ELSE_ could wait. A _certain_ trio of idiots was and had been getting themselves into trouble all over again, but Bill had gotten a good Look at things in the meantime -- and _done_ a few things in the meantime once checking his phone, stupid desynchronized time issue mess, _jumping ahead_ on him like that when he wasn’t Mentally there -- and he wasn’t _about_ to bring any of this up with his sister right here in the now. FOR REASONS. Many, _**many**_ reasons.

Not until he was done looking and Looking into things. He wanted to be _absolutely CERTAIN_ before he--

\--but _that_ whole idiotic mess could come LATER. **After**. --In the _shortest_ of short-terms, he was going to sit his little sister down to _properly_ go through her list of issues so he could help her deal with them, _right then_. They’d kept putting it off and only doing brief summaries, but it couldn’t be ignored any longer. Not with that ‘broken Bill’ not here anymore, and nothing keeping her here to staying in this set with him; he needed to make sure that he helped her with these things _RIGHT NOW_ , before she decided to leave again, out on her own and potentially without him. Because it wasn’t safe for him to put it off any longer. Not if she was still having trouble with her energy levels like this, enough to have her making herself _that tired_ to look _that_ terrible even within her own Dreamscape! Because the _next_ time she left, if she left without _him_ with her--

Bill didn’t want to think about what would happen if she did that, but he also _did_ want to think about it and DID think about it. --Because he needed the reasons to be able to give them to Miz, to prepare to tell her, on _exactly_ **why** that would be SUCH a BAD IDEA -- he’d need to tell her these things, to keep her from making excuses now or later about why she could go out on her own before handling all of the rest of this -- because she needed to know about the consequences if she did that. And they would ALL be BAD consequences for her. --He _didn’t_ want her getting cornered because she’d thought she could do a little more, even though she was _that_ low on energy, because _then_ \--

That was how beings that existed primarily in the Mindscape got themselves _caught_. That was how they got themselves bound by a binding circle. That was how they ended up captured and doing all sort of things that _they didn’t want to do_ , getting ~~almost~~ all their choices taken away from them.

~~That was how they ended up trying to use vital parts of their own energy, their own energy-Self, to power their escape, in a terrible sort of desperation that no being should ever have to face. That was how they ended up no longer themselves, the remnants that were left of them no longer remembering who or what they had been -- _if_ any remnants remained, if they didn’t just end up _SCREAMING_ in never-ending _**PAIN**_ forever and ever across the rest of existence, unable to stop, unable to do or feel anything _else_ other than that, forever and ever again--~~

~~Because Bill had Seen that. Bill had Seen the results of that before, what had happened when-- And he was NEVER going to tell Miz about that. NEVER. He was NEVER going to tell her about that being something that sometimes happened to the very-few beings of pure energy that existed like them, in existence. Because he was afraid that she might consider _trying to do that_ , that she might consider that possible loss of herself and her memories, destroying herself to become a so-much-lesser version of herself, to cease to exist as herself and to become something else that only barely _approximated_ being a ‘someone else’... Bill was afraid that his younger, still-suicidal sister, might possibly, potentially consider _that_ somehow, to be _a way out for her_ , and _then_ \--~~

(If Bill had known that his sister had already done that to herself once, during her desperate attempt to escape her first Binding, if he had known that she already almost lost herself, and that her summoner killing himself before she'd finished tearing herself apart was all that had stopped her... If Bill had known that his sister's damn lizard had actually helped to protect her, helped her piece herself back together, and the eons that it took to do so… he would have **panicked**. He already didn’t trust her lizard from what he’d heard from her about it; the idea that it had put her back together -- potentially in _exactly_ the way _IT_ would have wanted, rather than as she was and had-been and should-be -- would have terrified him. Even if he could manage to be convinced somehow that it hadn’t been out to do anything but recover her as she was… he still wouldn’t have trusted the lizard, thinking it too stupid to manage the process _properly_. And he would have found himself very stuck with the issue of _WHAT_ to do next: try to recover her original self, potentially against her current potentially not-herself wishes that might not be her own actual wishes? Try to follow her timeline back to ‘split’ her from her own timeline and recover her old Self from her current possibly- _not_ -Self? To end up with a second Miz-Self that… might not be his _sister?_ That would react to there being two of ‘her’, except not… _how_ , exactly? --And he didn’t know _HOW_ to do that sort of thing for beings of pure energy yet, to recover something in that sort of ‘time-rollback’ when they didn’t have a physical body and possibly never-had for the duration of their current life-and-existence -- let alone across several dimensions, let alone across MULTIPLE DIMENSIONAL SETS. ...And assuming he actually managed to navigate _that_ whole mess without a rather bad meltdown -- and who-knew-what actions taken in the meantime -- well, he _certainly_ would NOT have EVER allowed Miz to leave his side again after that!)

(...if he learned that such a thing had already happened to some extent as things currently stood.)

...While Bill was downstairs, after speaking with Stanley, Bill also took the time to grab even more food from the pantry _and_ the meat coolers for Miz’s general consumption, to help get his sister back up to full-energy -- hopefully _without_ starting up some other new stupid up-and-down cycle for her. (They would _absolutely_ have to start out by talking _much_ more about _that_ one _first_.) He didn’t like the idea of her being ~~weak and vulnerable~~ tired and hungry, and he wanted to make _absolutely certain_ that he had enough food for her to get her levels back up to normal without her having to leave the safe environs of his set-up protections in the attic upstairs. ‘More’ was _MUCH_ better than ‘less’, especially a ‘less’ of her currently ‘not enough, not by a _long_ shot’!

Reserves were better, expenditures could be managed elsewise upstairs in the attic if need be. But you couldn’t expend what you didn’t have, not really ~~not even when ‘cheating’ -- the energy-debt always caught up with you at _some_ point, _even if_ it was later than sooner~~. She was getting better at gauging things here in terms of energy expenditure, though, she’d told him in not quite those same words. She could always expend more of that ‘more’ energy later if she needed to, if she ‘went over’ a little too much.

(However, Bill’s immediate plans for his sister were put to a temporary halt as, when he made his way back upstairs, he found his sister quietly snuggled up to a large stuffed animal, fast asleep in her usual very-comfortable-for-her fluffed-up pillow-nest. ...Well, that was fine. They could just talk about it all after she woke up again later, after she ate some more again if she needed to.)

\---

"Just because I admire my brother, doesn't mean I want to be him."

Ford glanced up at Miz, then looked a bit startled as he realized that Miz had been addressing that particular peculiar statement to _him_ \-- not just announcing it to the table in general, completely out of nowhere in the middle of dinner. ...Frankly, he didn’t know why she and Bill kept coming down for these. ...Alright, _fine_ , he would admit that he knew why Bill was eating at their same shared mealtimes -- apparently Stan would go upstairs and ‘annoy’ Bill until he came downstairs to eat with the rest of them, and Bill didn’t like that ~~\-- Bill would _let Stan do that_...~~ But, apparently, Bill just didn’t ‘not-like’ it enough to actually do something to Stan about it, other than to come downstairs at or before that point, grudgingly and complaining at him all the way.

What Ford didn’t understand was why the man-eater was doing it; Bill, yes, somewhat -- but the man-eater? No. Because the man-eater obviously had to be going out of her way to make an effort to do so; she had to be eating at least _twice_ at or around mealtimes as things currently stood. Ford knew how much she usually ate from that other dimension (and a few meals and ‘snacks afterwards’ here in this dimension besides), and she was _not_ eating enough at any of these most-recent shared mealtimes to ‘fill her up’ at all. And it made no sense for her to be splitting up her mealtimes this way, in multiple sittings, in order to be eating at the same time as the rest of them.

Not without some ulterior motive in doing so…

So _why_ Miz would decide to attend this meal with them, and say something like _that_ to him, _specifically_ … Ford glanced over at the rest of his family, trying to gauge whether this was truly out of nowhere or not, and... Mabel was giving him a hopeful look ( _Why??_ ). But then the rest of his brain kicked in and--

"--Saying that like _that_ doesn’t mean you _don’t_ want to be him, either," Ford said smoothly, almost on reflex, as his very tired brain finally caught up with him. "Or that you don’t aspire to be even worse than he is," he added after another bare second of thought. (And now Mabel was pouting at him for some reason.)

...and Miz turned her head to give Mabel a hopeless look. Mabel shrugged back.

Bill stopped chewing his food for a moment, before continuing. (Stan raised his own mental eyebrow at this. Because for Ford, that was practically a straight-up admission that he thought the kid could be worse… and wasn’t. Which was… _something_ , anyway. Stan had known his brother thought there were plenty of other worse people out there, beings and demons and junk -- not talking about a trillion year avalanche of actions here in quantity, more like the quality -- but he’d never expected Ford to admit it _out loud_...)

~~(Hell, the ‘quality’ part was kind of iffy as it was, too. Damn demon. But as much as he and Ford didn’t like it or like putting up with any of it, the kid **could** be acting a _hell_ of a lot worse right now than he was, and they both knew it...)~~

~~(...not that ‘not currently torturing anyone mentally until they crack up, or physically until they die’ was a really high bar to be setting, but at least the demon-kid was willing to keep goin’ on clearing it, what with the agreement and all…)~~

Out loud, Stan just sighed at all this. Because... hell, Ford was definitely in a mood today, sayin’ stuff like that out loud. ...A tired, really cranky mood. (Made him wonder what-all his brother been working on downstairs, after the whole thing with watching the demon-picnic and nothin’-after, that could have been leaving him _that_ all outta sorts.)

(Then again, he was feelin’ a lot more tired than usual himself, today. ...Why was that? Stan frowned a little at this; he hadn’t done much of anything that day… But then Stan shook it off.)

"--Probably not the best time for this conversation, Miz," Stan told her, after taking a sip of his milk (because, hell, she looked like she was _gearing up_ for something -- no surprise there). "Not if you’re not understanding what Ford’s gettin’ at there, just now," he told her as he set his glass back down. Because to him, it looked like she maybe wasn’t getting it. (And the kid side-eyed her the way he usually did these days: looking straight-forward, blinking his eyes closed, and when he opened his eyes again they were both directed right at her, where she was sitting at the kid’s side.)

Miz rolled her eyes. "I only see him at mealtimes. And even then, only sometimes. So I thought I'd just get it out of the way." She speared her rolled-up omelette with a fork and placed it in her mouth. "I told him what Mabel said I should tell him, and that's all I'm saying. I'm not gonna talk to him anymore tonight 'cause it'd probably not end well if I tried," she told them all, as she went back to focusing on eating. She'd made spinach rice balls for Bill tonight, seasoned with copious amounts of pepper. (Melody and Soos had each taken a rice ball earlier -- before they’d left for Abuelita’s house for their own dinner -- to Miz's delight! ...And to Grunkle Ford's own worry. Mabel had also thought Miz's cooking looked really cute; she’d sort-of _really_ wanted to try one herself! But she’d held herself back at her Grunkle Ford's expression, feeling too guilty to try it. She and Dipper stuck to eating the pasta Grunkle Stan had made for them all for dinner, instead.) But Miz couldn't actually eat those rice balls herself because of the pepper, so she had instead made herself some rolled omelettes and salmon rice balls. She paused while chewing and added quietly, "I’m gonna try to understand." (To which Bill replied, just as quietly, but far more enthusiastically and encouragingly, while patting her on the head, "I will help you understand!") She then looked lost in thought.

Ford glanced over at Bill, and got the sinking feeling that, whatever the man-eater had been trying to say, it had apparently gone over even _Bill Cipher’s_ pointed triangular frame.

...Best to be sure about a few of the facts of the matter first, however. Ford let out a huff of breath and looked over at Mabel. "You told her to tell me this?" he asked of his favorite grand-niece.

"I told her only to say it if she meant it," Mabel said, looking down at her plate and poking at her pasta disconsolately. (She hadn’t thought it would make Grunkle Ford feel all like _that_. And now she felt guilty all over again.)

Ford sighed again and ran a hand over his face. Leave it to a demon to try and bring the niblings into something, in an attempt to make it ‘aggressively acceptable’ in that way somehow. ~~To try and make him look like ‘the bad guy’ for objecting to her ongoing efforts to continue attacking him verbally at mealtimes, when she did it. Most likely, in an attempt to turn them against each other. ...Had the man-eater thought that he would turn right around and yell at Mabel, excoriating her for telling the demon to do that? Well, he certainly wasn’t going to do that! _Of course_ he would not! --Why would he blame his own grand-niece for something the man-eater was trying to turn from something innocently good-natured into something horribly weaponized? Mabel had likely been trying to help the two of them ‘make up’ and ‘get along’. It wasn’t Mabel’s fault that she didn’t understand what all demons were like; that it was a completely hopeless cause she was attempting to do on that front. And it _certainly_ wasn’t Mabel’s fault that the man-eater was terrible and chose to continue in her attempts to say horrible things to him, to provoke whatever sort of response that she wanted as an end result of these ongoing and persistent verbal interactions.~~

Ford tried to focus on eating his own dinner, to not let whatever the man-eater had been trying to say _get_ to him. But after awhile, he couldn’t help but glare up and over at Miz as he realized that she was, in fact, doing as she’d said she would for once, essentially _ignoring him_ for the rest of the meal after having tossed that random, almost-cryptic comment at him. Because really? _Now_ she was willing to not talk to him, despite just saying something to him and engaging him first?!

Stan, no slouch at reading his brother and anything but asleep at the wheel for this meal (even if he did feel pretty dead on his tush right now), realized perfectly well what was going on there with his brother, and he sighed again as he realized he’d better speak up before Ford said something caustic to the dragon-lady and the two of them set off _another_ dinnertime yelling match between them, _again_.

"Ford, don't overthink it too much," Stan told him. "Miz really was just doin’ what Mabel suggested she do yesterday. Coulda chosen a better time and place for it, though," or, y’know, asked him for _his_ input on this whole thing first. He sent her a look. Because this dragon-lady… despite listening to his input sometimes when he gave it, and seeming to think it was actually something she agreed with most of the time -- hell, even _using_ it sometimes afterwards (when she remembered it…) -- she _still_ didn’t really go around actually asking him for any actual help on anything first, before pulling this kind of stuff. And he still didn’t know why that was, or how to try and convince her to start doing it.

Stan glanced up at the kid, but Bill didn’t seem to be on anything like the same wavelength as he was that night. The kid was watching Miz, sure, but he didn’t seem to be pickin’ up on anything from _Stan_ tonight; not even a little, and the kid had seemed to be a lot better about that kind of thing lately. Kid was barely even looking over at him tonight, though; Stan wasn’t sure if that was because the kid was just that tired too, or what. (...And something tickled Stan’s brain on that one, but he didn’t quite catch it just then, tired as he was…)

Ford, meanwhile, was stuck on Stan’s comment about ‘not overthinking things’... and proceeding to do just that. Even though he really didn’t want to. He _wanted_ to just ignore what the man-eater had just said. But it likely wasn’t safe to do so; she was a demon, everything she said was pointed in some way, and refusing to search for its proper meaning generally meant being caught off-guard at something horrible in the not-too-distant future. --Even Stan had admitted to him that the man-eater seemed to mean more than the surface of what she said and did when she said and did things.

...But Stan was also likely right about not overthinking things; the man-eater had gotten him before with something she had said, and Ford _tried_ to tell himself that it just wasn’t worth it. To _just let Stan handle it_. That no, he wasn't and didn’t have to try and pick apart each and every part of what awful message must have been hidden in her statements. ...Not that his wants to simply ignore it meant anything, as his brain was and had been already picking it apart, to his internal and ever-eternal annoyance.

_'Just because I admire my brother, doesn't mean I want to be him.'_

(...and Ford, in his usual fashion, completely misunderstood her point as his mind picked apart her simple statement for whatever malicious hidden meaning it must have held, whatever jab she was trying to make at him.)

_'Oh, I admire my brother all right. But that doesn’t mean I want to leave you alone like he is right now. I’m going to mess you up so well, he’s **sure** to be proud of me for doing it for him!'_

_'I don’t want to be Bill. I want to beat him out at being the very absolute best of the worst! You’ll see! Y̻̫̑̿ͣ̑̚͡Ö̟̲̼̹̭́̑U̘͌̃̓̀̓̄̓̕'̸̟̮̮̱̲̓ͧ̂͟L̩̝̻͈̹̗͙̑̕͝Ļ̖͙̣̙͎ͬ̾̾̊ͨ̈̚ͅ ͈̳͚̼̮̀̋̿ͤ̚̕͝S̷̸̝̣̿͛͛͗̈̎̓͜E̎̉̑ͭͦ͒̅̉҉̣̤̤̪̮̼͜E͖̩ͯ͂͛̐ͥ͌̎͟...'_

_'HA! Why would I want to be Bill? I’m plenty terrible enough already!’_

...No, that was too simple for her. Stan had told him a few things that Ford had not quite realized from the cartoon watching. And… the man-eating demon wasn’t obsessed with Bill, not entirely. Many demons such as herself were capable of focusing outwards as well. Which meant… a comparison. Which meant… referring to him and another brother. And, in the context of _that_ , that sentence suddenly took on a very different meaning, with very pointed teeth.

_'Just because I admire my brother, doesn't mean I want to be him.'_

And, taking that in that new context and light, Ford’s brilliant mind spat back at him: _'Isn't it hilarious how Stan pretended to be you for 30 years?'_

Which was almost immediately coupled with: _'I admire my brother, but_ YOU’RE _a different story. --Don’t_ you _wish you were more like_ your _brother? Why would he **ever** WANT to be you?’_

_You really want to be him, don’t you? HA! --You **do** , _don’t _you!_ He’s _not a freak,_ he’s _not the utter wreck of a human being who can’t even get a girl to talk to him,_ he’s _the one_ you _**should** want to be more like, and everybody -- EVEN YOU -- knows it! Because **you** are just a stupid, know-nothing, hopeless fool of a man, who can’t even--'_

Ford stabbed down at his food with more force than he planned, rattling the plate. Damn man-eater. He didn’t know why she was taunting him over this out of nowhere, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him react to it! ~~And yes, he had already reacted to it but _she_ didn't know that, and he wasn’t _about_ to tell her--~~

Ford closed his eyes, pulled in a shaky breath through the pure rage, and forced himself _not_ to look up at her. No. No. He _wasn’t_ going to fall for it; not _any_ of it. He wasn’t going to look up and see-- ~~Bill looking at him, and then looking at her, giving her _such_ a look for getting around the agreement for him, oh-so-pleased--~~

~~Bill didn’t want him. Bill had _never_ wanted him. All that Bill wanted was for him to _suffer_ , and--~~

So dinner was still a tense affair, but it carried on without any outright fighting. The four humans and two human-looking demons got through it all in a near-silence only broken occasionally by Dipper and Mabel (and sometimes Stan’s and Bill’s own chatter), as Miz (miraculously) kept her mouth shut (aside from eating) and Ford continued to fume and frown furiously to himself (keeping it all inside his own head, under his thick metal plate).

Stan sighed. But then, as he got up to clear the table (and the kids got up to help him), he had a bit of a lightbulb moment, and turned around, back towards the table.

"Ford, you wanna read the transcript later?" Stan asked him, "That whole Mabel-and-Miz conversation? Just to give ya some context for what the dragon-lady was really tryin’ to say?" Because yeah, Stan knew that Ford had cameras of his own around the house, could probably pull it all up on his own down in the basement, but…

He could practically see the question marks dancing over Ford’s head as his brother looked up at him (hell, wondering what in the heck he was doing, probably), but Stan was sure that this one was gonna end up being a good idea.

"Kid, transcript?" Stan said, holding his hand out to him and waiting.

But this time, the kid just looked up at him for a moment. ...And then looked a little suspicious.

"...Why," the kid said slowly, and that was how Stan knew for sure and certain that the kid knew about all Ford’s spy cameras around the house.

"’Cause I asked you to nicely," Stan tried, also realizing that he might be running up against the edges of a few things with him finally, since they’d been back. (He also saw Ford straighten up slowly in place where he was sitting in his chair.) "Do I need another-- _more_ reasons than that?"

The kid frowned at him slightly. He looked over at Ford. He looked back to him.

And _then_ the kid looked over at his kid sister.

Huh. _That_ was somethin’ new. "You want to ask her this time if she’s okay with it, first?" Stan said, testing.

"That’s _NOT_ \--!!" the kid began with a frown that was almost a glare, seemingly offended by the very notion as the kid swivelled his head around to look over at him again, but then the kid stopped and seemed to really process what Stan had just asked of him.

And Bill paused.

And then the kid looked between Miz _and Mabel_ this time. (...Huh.)

The kid stopped doing _that_ after a bit, and looked up and over at Ford again, peering and squinting his eyes at him almost, like he wasn’t sure about something.

"I got no problem with anything they said in it," Stan told the kid next, as a wild-ass guess at something that would have the kid--

\--and the next thing Stan knew, the kid did something with his suit and he was having a transcript slapped into his hand by the kid... and the kid was more or less ignoring him now, making himself busy with patting Miz on the head over and over again, not even looking at him or Ford anymore. (Which kind of left Stan blinking. ...Damn. He was gonna have to ask the kid what the heck he’d all been thinking there after this, wasn’t he. Damnit.)

Mabel and Miz glanced at each other. (Dipper was frowning a little, at both Bill and at Miz.) Miz shrugged. "Privacy’s apparently a thing. But I don’t mind if anyone knows what I’ve said. I willingly tell people all sorts of stuff already."

"Privacy is not the problem here. Stanley could tell him anyway, and that Stanford has cameras set up all over the house as it is," the kid put out there, and it left Stan stifling a sigh. He hadn’t thought the kid was gonna say that openly, hell. And Ford didn’t seem to be taking it all that well either, but...

"Here," Stan said, holding the transcript out to Ford, but Ford… wasn’t taking it all from him. He wasn’t even raising his hand up to try.

What Ford _was_ doing was staring at Bill, up until he said, "Is that a transcript of the conversation that Stan was referring to?"

"Yes," the kid said without looking over at him.

"Is it _accurate?_ " Ford asked next, with something of an edge to his tone. _That_ had the kid looking over at him.

"Yes," the kid said simply, then added (a little to Stan’s slowly-growing but well-hidden shock at this exchange), "It’s as accurate as I can make it, to the very-best of my ability."

"Is the information _in_ it, accurate?" Ford asked next.

"Of course!" Bill said, with something of a scoffing tone, practically waving it off as the kid sat back in his chair, and… Stan blinked as he realized how very differently the kid was talking to Ford, right about now.

"--But what you should _really_ be asking me is if the information is accurate _on_ it," Bill said next, leaning back in his chair with a growing grin. "Not like I _burned_ it into the pages for you, or anything!" he grinned out, with an odd lilt to his tone.

Ford’s eyes narrowed. "Was your ‘sister’ _lying_ during any of that conversation?" Stan’s brother demanded of the demon next. (Stan’s eyes were ping-ponging back and forth between them. ...The kid wasn’t just talking differently. As far as he could tell, Ford seemed to think that this was _normal_ from the kid; Stan could tell. And… neither of them were at each other’s throats. this was literally the first time Stan had seen anything _like_ a civil conversation out of the two of them. ...If this could even be called a conversation. Because Ford was just _grilling_ the demon-kid on and over--)

"Miz can’t lie to anyone while her headband’s like this," the kid shrugged off, moving his eyes over to his sister, who was rolling her own. "I’m working on it." Miz huffed out.

"...Not that anything like that would stop her from telling lies of omission," Ford said to them both next, eyes sharpening further.

And apparently _that_ was the breaking point (which, hell, didn’t actually surprise Stan any) that had the demon rounding on Ford (because Stan had heard the demon rant at him enough times about how--) "--I’m _ONE TRILLION YEARS OLD_ , you--"

"--Kid, close your eyes, _breathe_ , dial it down a little, and _try again_ ," Stan cut in, cutting off the kid’s thunder, and the kid _barely_ managed it, snapping his eyes shut and... (Hell, the kid was…) "If you’re _that_ tired, go upstairs for the night, and we’ll finish this all off tomorrow," Stan told him next. He didn’t know what was going on with the kid right now, but he wasn’t going to push the kid that hard now (he knew better); especially not when the kid had been doing so… well? (He was gonna have to check with Ford on that one, though.)

Bill’s eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily. Miz was holding Bill’s hand gently, nuzzled into his side, trying to help him to cool down a little more.

"I’m _one trillion years old_ ," the kid gritted out again, just as caustically, but with his eyes closed, his chin tucked down a bit towards his chest... and a hell of a lot less volume this time, at least. " _Anything_ I say to you is going to be omitting _one trillion years_ worth of _things you don’t know about **ME**_."

And with that, the kid snapped open his eyes, glaring at Ford like he wanted to drop-kick him out the side door, or somethin’.

But Ford didn’t say anything else, and the kid didn’t say anything else, and the dragon-lady even managed to keep her own mouth shut on whatever-else, too. And after a good ten seconds of nothin’ but glaring and staring, the two demons got up from their chairs and left the kitchen, heading back upstairs for the attic together.

Both Mabel and Dipper let out a twin set of breaths that they’d been holding, and then looked a little embarrassed as they excused themselves upstairs (really, made excuses to go upstairs after giving a pair of hugs to Ford), headed for their own beds in their bedroom, even though it was still a bit early that night.

Ford, for his part, slumped in his chair a little, as Stan set the transcript down on the table in front of him, and got back to clearing the dishes off of the table like he’d been doing, at the start of all this.

"Well, _that_ coulda gone worse," Stan muttered out, and he couldn’t do much more than look on as Ford buried his head in his arms on the table and let out a single soft laugh.

Stan waited a moment, then just got back to busying himself about the kitchen, cleaning up after the meal. He worked on washing the dishes, as he let Ford give himself a break for awhile; his brother probably needed it, after torturing himself with who-knew-what thoughts he’d had tryin’ to figure out what the dragon-lady had been trying to say at him, all throughout dinner. Whatever Ford had been thinking she’d said, it had been nothing good; Stan had been able to tell that one himself, pretty clearly, tired or not.

"...How old is the man-eater, have either of them said?" Ford asked him wearily while rubbing a hand across his face, after finally raising his head up again from his arms a few minutes later.

Stan frowned to himself a little as he finished up with the last of the dishes, and he turned the water off. "...Hell, I don’t know. Younger than the kid?" Stan was pretty sure of that, at least. "I remember one of ‘em mentionin’ something about her bein’ over 500 billion years old at some point. Not sure how much over that she is, though," he noted. He almost wanted to ask ‘does it matter?’ because, y’know, once somebody got so old you couldn’t even comprehend some kinda mountain or something lasting that long, let alone a person going off and _living_ it...

"...Half his age. Right. Perhaps a little more than that, possibly," Ford murmured to himself. He looked down at the transcript on the table and frowned, still not touching it.

"Ford, it ain’t a snake that’s gonna bite ya," Stan told him in consternation, as he dried his hands off with the dish towel.

Ford rolled his eyes at him, while telling him, "It’s the principle of the matter." ...as he reached out and picked up the brown-twine-string-bound pile of papers that made up the transcript by the string. "Why did you think that it was a good idea to ask Bill for this?" he asked him as he played a bit with the string, fingering it almost absently at first while he stared down at it.

"Wanted to see if he’d give me somethin’ that he knew was gonna be for you," Stan told him. Ford looked up at him. "He gave me a copy this mornin’, remember? And he didn’t seem to have a problem with the Northwest girl reading over it at the diner--"

"--Bill went to the _diner_ again?" Ford said. "Why did you take him?!"

Stan let out a sigh. "Ford, you’d’ve seen us come back if you’d been out on the other porch, y’know."

Ford looked like he wanted to say something disparaging to this, but instead he simply grimaced and waved it off with a frown.

"So," Stan said, "You gonna read it, or…?" But Ford was already pulling the pile in a bit closer to him. ...Right.

\---

Stan leaned back against the counter as he watched Ford undo the string around the pile of papers. "Never heard the kid talk quite like that before," Stan said next. "You think he’s--" _getting any better?_ Stan was about to ask him (because as far as Stan figured, what he thought about the kid didn’t matter for beans, what mattered a hell of a lot here was what _Ford_ thought of how the kid was acting differently around him now), but Ford cut him off with a completely absent-minded:

"--That’s how he usually talks."

Stan blinked, and then stared at his brother for a long moment. ...Well, shit.

"That’s how he usually talks to _you_ , y’ mean," Stan said not quite slowly to his brother.

"No, that’s how he usually talks to everyone," Ford told him, as he got the papers free from the binding string, and started paging his way through them. "When he’s in a good mood, anyway," Ford muttered out next, almost under his breath. "He dropped the act for a bit, actually started acting like himself again."

"Ford, I need you to look at me for a minute," Stan told him, and his brother stopped and looked up at him, blinking up at Stan owlishly from where he was seated. "You know how people sometimes talk different to other people, depending on who they are, and what they’re thinkin’ and talkin’ about?" …Zero comprehension outta his brother on that one. _Great_. "Okay… you know how… sometimes people talk differently to kids? Like, uh," crud, that was probably a bad one. Maybe… "Or, uh, small animals."

Ford looked up at him skeptically. Stan wracked his brain for a moment, and then… he finally got it.

"You and Old Man McGucket," Stan said, "You two get to talking about science-stuff, you use all those technical terms, goin’ a mile a minute, right?"

"...Yes?" Ford said, then he blinked at him. "Most people can’t follow it, though. ...That’s what you’re trying to get at?" he asked, frowning slightly as he adjusted his glasses. "Stan, do you… did you not understand what Bill and I were saying--?"

"--Not that," Stan said almost hurriedly. "Okay, well, kinda. --You know those grant-type people you had ta get money from?" Stan asked him next. "Kinda-maybe smart, but--"

"Not all that intelligent," Ford said with a sigh, rolling his eyes slightly and looking away from him.

...Yeah, okay, fine. Worked for him. "Yeah, Ford. Maybe a _little_ less intelligent," Stan said with enough bite to his words that it had Ford looking back over at him. ~~_Good._~~ "Definitely not somebody who either of you crazy nerds could get goin’ on that type of conversation with, though. Yeah?"

"Yes," Ford said. "But I don’t see where you’re going with this."

"You still have to explain stuff to them enough to get the actual funds outta them, though," Stan told him next. "You can’t use the exact terms and stuff maybe, or talk the way you want to -- like you would if you’re actually tryin’ to get some stuff done. You’ve gotta talk to them differently," Stan said to him, "But you’ve still gotta find a way to _explain_ it all to ‘em somehow, if they go off askin’ about something." And Stan waited, hoping that his brother would get it now.

Ford frowned at him a little. "...So, you think that Bill is talking to me like a scientific colleague, while he’s talking to you like you’re a grant administrator," Ford said to him. Then he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I suppose that makes sense," Ford said next, kind of tiredly. "Given the situation with the--"

"--No, Ford, you’ve got it backwards," Stan told him, cutting him off. "What I’m tellin’ you is that _I’m_ the ‘colleague’, and _you’re_ the patsy he thinks he’s gotta swindle somethin’ out of."

And for a moment, Stan couldn’t understand why his brother was looking so… so _taken aback_ at him and junk.

"I didn’t _swindle_ those--" Ford sputtered out at him, and then he started to look truly angry, as he drew himself up where he sat. "I _earned_ that grant money, _fairly!_ " Ford spat out at him next, looking downright _furious_ , "And--"

\--Shit. Shit-shit-- "I didn’t mean it like _that_ , Ford! _Hell_ ," Stan said, putting up both his hands and verbally backing off quickly. "I mean, like-- _con men_ ," he tried next, his tired mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to explain that that was _not_ what he’d meant, it was just that-- "The demon’s not like _you_ , he’s more like--"

"--You," Ford said, at the same Stan said, "--me," and… Stan felt a little _shocked_ not more than a second later at what he’d just said. (At what he’d almost implied about _Ford_. ~~About what he’d just--~~ )

But while Stan was feeling a little shocked and cold at all this, the whole thing, Ford was just looking at him intently, and his brother looked almost… _disappointed_ with him, somehow.

"Stan," Ford said slowly, setting down the transcript on the table. "I _told_ you."

Stan looked over at him, blinking. "Told me what?" That… what, that Ford thought that _he_ was like the _demon_ \--??

~~\--all those times on the boat, when Ford had practically _tackled_ him and **demanded** to see his eyes, restrained him and held him down--~~

~~... _after all that_ , when Ford had checked him and calmed himself down, he’d always told him that-- did that mean that Ford had been lying to him _every single time_ when he’d said that--~~

Stan’s eyes widened slightly. (And Ford wondered what his brother was thinking just then, with a bit of a sinking feeling that he thoroughly attempted to ignore.)

Ford sighed as he looked at his brother. "That he’ll make you think that he _understands_ you. ...What did you think that I meant?" Ford asked him quietly, and quite calmly, and…

...somehow, that all, the way he was sayin’ it, all understanding and sorry-like, had Stan feeling that much _worse_.

"Kid’s a con artist, not a scientist-geek," Stan said, not even sure what he was saying anymore, almost. It… it wasn’t like he was tryin’ to be defensive about it, or nothin’, it was just… hell, it wasn’t even _right_ , not really; the demon-kid _was_ a geek, he knew that, but… the whole scientist thing, he wasn’t sure about… and Ford….

(It wasn’t until later -- after a decent amount of sleep, and a lot of _really_ uncomfortable thinking -- that Stan would finally figure out what he’d been feeling, to actually be able to put it into words all right when he wasn’t feeling so goddamn tired. --He hadn’t liked the idea that the demon-kid was more like Ford than like him, because of what that would say about his brother. _He_ was the screw up in the family who couldn’t do anything right, not Ford; it was okay for the triangle demon to be a hell of a lot more like _him_ , on this. ~~Meant they had a chance at taking him down for good if they needed to, for a start, if the demon-kid was just a dumb old a screw-up like him.~~ And he didn’t like the idea that Ford might think that the demon was more like himself than like _him_ , either. Ford was so much better than that; he wasn’t like the triangle _at all_. It was… just that _mirroring_ thing, going on there. It wasn’t what Ford thought; Stan _knew_ it. He didn’t want Ford thinking that...)

"Kid’s a con artist," Stan repeated, too tired to really be able to get into it any more than that, then.

"He wants to know things, not lie about them," Ford told him, propping his head up on a fist. "He doesn’t like lying, he likes rubbing the truth in everyone’s faces and making it hurt," Ford told him next, looking down at the table for a moment. "It’s why he’s going to break the agreement, sooner rather than later. He won’t be able to stand holding to and keeping up the lie. He’ll get too impatient for it."

"I _know_ he doesn’t like lying," Stan told him doggedly, he gotten that much outta the kid on his own; it was probably half the reason the kid had so many damn tells and wasn’t trying to get any better at hiding any of them. (The other half being, he had an entire face and body to have to handle here and now, and the whole ‘staying low down in his body’ thing made it harder for him to control all his responses out of it, to keep ‘em all from showing.) "But he’s still some kinda con-man or somethin’." And that was… _almost_ right, wasn’t it? (Except it was still _off_ in a really stupid way somehow, and it made Stan feel _frustrated_ all over again.)

"He’s worse at conning people than _you_ , Stanley," Ford said to him next, and he had an odd smile in his eyes, and his tone, and his… (...The heck? What did that even _mean?_ He was good at conning all sorts of people -- _great_ at it, even! The Mystery Shack--) But there was a bitterness that crept into Ford’s tone next as he said, "Just because I am a fool and a half to have trusted him…"

Stan pushed himself off of the kitchen counter and walked over quickly, reached out and stopped him, putting a hand down on his shoulder and shaking his head at him, frowning. That wasn’t Ford’s fault. It _wasn’t_. And...

"That ain’t…" But his brother looked absolutely convinced that trusting the damn demon in the first place had been all _his_ fault, somehow, and… Stan had to stop and sit down. ~~Ford wasn’t gonna _let_ him convince him that it wasn’t his fault right now; _Ford_ hadn’t done anything wrong; it had been all that damn demon’s--~~

He had to let go of that one. He couldn’t handle that tonight, too tired to practically think straight. That sounded like the kind of thing he was gonna need to get the kids in on, to help him with. Because Ford had said _that_ like-- ~~like Stan usually said that he was nobody’s hero, when he felt like he was scamming the kids into loving him, and the _kids_ were the ones who had always and ever made him feel like maybe, just _maybe_~~...

Stan reached out and snagged the closest kitchen chair at the table, dragged it over and sat down next to him, to his brother, as he tried to think through…

Stan pulled in a deep breath, then let it out. ...Okay. Okay. He was tired as hell, but he could still do _this_ , at least a little bit, right?

"Okay, so he ain’t exactly the best con-artist," Stan admitted, and that was true. ~~And the kid would _stay_ that way, if _he_ had any say about--~~ "But he ain’t a scientist, neither. Not really." Stan knew that much. The demon-kid _wasn’t_ like Ford; not like that, not _really_. ~~_Ford would never hurt the kids--_~~

"Stan, he helped me design that damn portal," Ford told him, almost fondly, like… like he was trying to let him down _easy?_ "Just because he doesn’t talk that way with you…" he trailed off.

But Stan just couldn’t let it go. Not at that. Something about this whole thing was backwards. It _had_ to be. Because...

Stan felt like he was searching for something, and… for a second, he felt like he almost got it, when he said:

"He wants to _understand_ things, not just know ‘em," Stan tried out slowly, frowning a little as he tried to work his way through it. "It’s not just knowin’ a whole bunch of crazy, random no-good crap. It’s…" The demon-kid wanted to know stuff, but the kid _wasn’t_ like _Ford_ , who wanted to know _everything_ , who read every damn book he could get his hands on like some kinda book-demon himself. The demon-kid actually had _priorities_ ; but _Ford_ had always, when they were kids-- Stan had asked him once what all that stuff was actually good for, and Ford had just blinked up at him _like he hadn’t understood the question_ , and he--

\--No-good, no-good, not _useful_ , it was-- Right. _Right_. **That.** _That right there_ was the difference. (Damnit, he was tired. He _knew_ this already. It was--)

"--It has to be _useful_ ," he said to Ford next, "The stuff’s gotta be useful for…" and it was _weird_ , because he already knew this, he _knew_ he already knew this -- and Ford knew this too, he _had_ to already _know this_ \-- but…

...for some reason, Stan _also_ felt like he was inching up on something… something _new_ here, almost; he could _feel_ it. This wasn’t just about the demon being a punk kid and a jerk, or a scientist-nerd or a _not really great at it_ con-man; there was something else _there_ , and… he needed a little help getting there. He just needed Ford to help him a little, to get the rest of the way to--

Stan shook his head roughly from side to side for a second, for a second feeling a little like everything was almost a little bit underwater on him, here. ~~And he really didn’t like it--~~

"Bubbles of pure insanity are not useful," Ford told him calmly. "Ducks with tarantulas inside of them are not useful. Screaming tornadoes are not useful. _Walking water towers_ are not useful." (Admittedly, Ford knew he should probably be more worried about this for his brother, but… Stan wasn’t unintelligent, and he was nobody’s fool. And maybe Ford was foolish for thinking so, but… he believed in his brother, and Stan was talking to him about it, about all of this, now. Stan _wasn’t_ trying to do this alone. Stan _wasn’t_ alone, and Stan knew he wasn’t alone in this; not at all. Ford would never let that happen. Stan had come to him and was talking to him about this, and Ford had faith in his brother that, with a little help from him and some clarity, he would be able to find his own way out of what Bill was...)

"The kid thinks that insane is actually sane," Stan said next, like it was a fact, a bulletpoint on a very long list, and Ford blinked at him. "He _likes_ ducks with tarantulas in ‘em, ‘cause he thinks that makes ‘em double-fuzzy." And Ford blinked again, and started to get a sinking feeling, as he began to realize that… "I ain’t so sure about the screaming tornadoes..." and that feeling only got worse as Stan said next, with a _slight thinking frown_ , "But I’m pretty sure that ‘walking water tower’ was actin’ as some kinda perimeter guard, or guard dog, or somethin’."

"...Stan," Ford said slowly, and now he was actually starting to feel the beginnings of a spike of worry ~~and fear~~ for his brother.

And the feeling didn’t exactly go away or improve when Stan said next, "Kid talks to me about stuff. Kid talks; I listen. And sometimes I even talk back, askin’ questions sometimes. --Kid thinks tarantulas are fuzzy, and ducks are fuzzy. I asked him if he likes fuzzy, he said yeah. I asked him what was even fuzzier, and he told me about the double-fuzzy." And Ford couldn’t help but frown at him at this because...

"Have you actually been… trying to navigate Bill’s _madness?_ " he asked his brother, rather incredulously. Because _that_ was just--

"Not like he isn’t happy to give me about twelve maps and a compass when I ask, when I do it," Stan told him almost absently, as he frowned and he thought. "And walking instructions and a shovel after that for anything that looks like it might be buried treasure, that he don’t mind me gettin’ a peek at." Stan looked up at him for a moment. "Heck, I might try it on his sister too, at some point. --The demons got a method to their madness, Ford," Stan told him, scratching absently at his left cheek. "They’re, what’s the word." He frowned a little, then frowned a little less. "Yeah. _Internally consistent._ Mostly."

Ford carefully smoothed his strained expression away. ~~Because to say that _he did not like it when Bill called him ‘inconsistent’_ was rather an _understatement_ at this point. And Stan could _not_ have meant it like that. He--~~

"Even if they don't think at all like we do," Stan added next, though he didn't seem to be focusing externally on anything as he did so.

"...Stan," Ford tried again, slowly, trying to bring his brother’s attention… dear Axolotl, trying to bring his brother _out of his own head_ and back out to a somewhat-sane external reality where _he_ was sitting, right next to him, in the kitchen. "What are you trying to say here."

"I’m just…" Stan looked a little frustrated (quite understandably, in Ford’s opinion, if he’d actually been trying to understand the _insane dream demon_ all this time--!). "He ain’t a scientist, because he’s not all about weights and measures and junk." (Well, that wasn't quite right. Not in the least. Ford opened his mouth to correct his brother in this--) "He’s not a conman," (Ford closed his mouth again, with the beginnings of relief) "-unless he has to be," (...and there went _that_ feeling rather quickly; Ford began to frown) "-‘cause he hates lying, so he’s pretty terrible at it most of the time, too, unless he has to not be terrible at it for awhile." (And Ford frowned at this even further, because… it almost sounded like…) "The kid’s a punk kid, and a demon, and he _messed_ with you for _**years**_ , because--" and Ford winced as Stan stopped abruptly and closed his eyes for a moment, clenching his fists and his jaw and breathing heavily.

Ford waited. (He appreciated the sentiment his brother was feeling just then on his behalf, though.)

"...He messed with you for years, because he thought he had to," was what Stan said next, and Ford nearly corrected him, before Stan corrected _himself_ , saying, "He messed with you, because he thought he _needed_ you, to do somethin’ for him, and the kid didn’t like that at all one bit." And Ford’s jaw went slack and his eyes widened at this, slightly, because-- "It pissed him off, havin’ to _rely_ on you-- no, _shit_ \-- that’s not…" Stan mumbled out, rubbing a hand over his face. Stan seemed to need to take a moment, before he was able to gather his thoughts up again -- _oh_. Stan looked… rather tired. About as tired as he felt, really.

\--then Stan said abruptly -- more strongly -- suddenly sounding truly angry all-at-once as he said, "Because he thought he didn’t have a _choice_ ," and Ford stared at him, thoroughly taken aback.

Stan winced, then shook himself at what he’d just said. "Look, that’s not-- I ain’t explaining this all that well right now." He’d thought he’d been too tired to think straight that other night? Hell, he felt half-asleep on his tush right now by comparison.

"Stan, take your time," Ford said slowly, and Stan pulled in another breath and let it out in a huff, feeling frustrated.

"Okay. Okay. Look…" Stan struggled with what he was thinking, then tried to back off a bit and… it was all about _choices_ with the kid, right? Nobody had helped the kid out before, why did it have to be him? And--

...then Stan connected _that_ thought to _another_ side thought, and… and _that_ was--

"Miz never comes to me for help when she wants something," Stan told Ford, letting him know that she never did it on her own, "Not without prompting." She hadn’t asked him about talking to Ford first that night at dinner on the whole thing Mabel had talked to her about, or looked at him, asking him that she wanted him to help translate stuff between them both. Heck, she’d barely looked at Mabel, and that had been more of a ‘hey, I tried’ and nothing at _all_ of a ‘can you help me please?’

"And she only goes to the kid for help after I notice something, ‘cause I started talking with her _first_ , and then practically _tell_ her I think she should do it, too." Because when she’d wanted to know about Carla, she hadn’t tried asking him again, and she hadn’t even tried asking her own brother about junk -- she’d just gone off on her own and done a bunch of junk all on her own, alone, by herself, not talking to anybody else or their dog about it. And she’d done that, even _knowing_ that her own brother could probably explain things to her, since he’d done just that damn thing for her more than once already, when Stan had pushed her a little bit to do it, givin’ her advice just like he went around giving _the kid_ advice, trying to keep everything from running _completely_ off the rails, because--

"--The kid don’t really ever come to me for any help, either," Stan continued. "Not really." Not for actual help. The kid sometimes just… walked into a room that Stan was in like the kid was _dropping into_ it, but almost never like he really came to talk because _he_ wanted to talk. Or Stan would walk into a room that the kid was there in and the kid _just started talking_ , acting like it wasn’t really any big thing, but… the way the kid always, _always_ started things off, it always felt more like the kid was just talking to himself _around_ somebody, than actually expecting anything really out of Stan being there. And Stan had almost been kind of offended at first, with the way the kid had acted surprised when Stan spoke up sometimes about something, when he offered advice, when he sometimes handed the kid something useful, even, but… even though the kid still acted at least a little surprised still lately when Stan handed him over something useful, something he could use... the kid still...

It was never like the kid was surprised at the _idea_ exactly. ...Well, okay, maybe the kid was surprised at the ideas that Stan gave him _sometimes_ \-- but that came _later_ , when the kid thought over the thing, whatever the thing was that Stan had just handed him, that thought, and it was something that the kid just hadn’t thought of, and wouldn’t have thought of all on his own. But that was a different thing that came _later_. It wasn’t like the kid was surprised that Stan had _good ideas_ sometimes. It was more like… the kid wasn’t expecting Stan to ever share them with him. Like he was never expecting Stan to speak up, to ever talk back to him in the first place.

Stan frowned. Because all this still meant that the kid still didn’t even _try_ to rely on him, not even a little. If anything, the kid almost did the opposite sometimes, trying to be careful _not_ to get in too deep. And Stan sort of got why that was; oh, did he ever _~~if he’d been in the kid’s shoes…~~. But even after this whole ‘wanting him’ business, which the kid had seemed _really_ damn serious about, the kid was _still_..._

__

__

...it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to him. Stan knew it wasn’t like the demon-kid had never relied on anybody before now, ever -- the kid _had_ relied on his own dead brother, way back when, right? He’d kind of almost _had_ to have done that, with the way that Stan saw him treating Miz now. He wouldn’t know _how_ to help his sister out otherwise, acting ‘like a big brother should’; he wouldn’t even know _how_ ~~or he wouldn’t even do it, just make fun of her and call her names for bein’ stupid or somethin’ instead…~~. But neither of them still really _relied_ on each other, and...

...Hell, okay. Stan _was_ getting onto something here, now, something _else_ completely... but it also felt like it might be kinda connected to the first thing, maybe. "Neither of them like askin’ for help. ...Hell, askin' someone else for help ain't even the first thing that crosses their minds when either of them have an issue. Ain’t even the second, or third, or fourth thing going on there, either, for either of them. Not for anything important." Stan thought back to the early days of Miz's stay here -- the first day in fact, when she’d climbed the shelves herself to reach something from up high. And then she’d gone and done the same thing at that bookstore just as thoughtlessly, not even going after a ladder. "They don't ask for help unless its a last resort." Or unless someone told them that they thought the demons should. And could. And actually offered it to them themselves, that help. ...And were tryin’ to do that without trying to stab either of ‘em in the back while they were doing it.

"Of course they’re not going to ask for help, Stan," Ford told him slowly. "They’re demons. Why would anyone help them?"

...Goddamnit, not _this_ whole thing again. "Ford, they _weren't_ always demons, remember?" Stan reminded his brother. "They were a triangle and a human first, right? ...The way they act, it ain't like some 'oh I'm a demon so no one's gonna help me anymore, boo hoo' kinda thing," he frowned at him. "It’s more like they don't even think about askin’ for help because--"

"Because they know they’re not going to get any," Ford said simply, and Stan felt frustrated all over again, because…

"-- _I know that_ ," he told his brother grumpily, rubbing a hand through his hair vigorously, trying to feel a little more _awake_ , because-- he’d known that for awhile already, okay, and he’d been pissed as hell about it for just as long as knowin’ that, almost. Because why hadn’t anyone else helped them out sooner? Why hadn’t somebody else yanked that triangle demon outta that Nightmare Realm place before things got any worse? Why did it have to be _him_ that was-- doing anything at all about any of this junk?

...Because they weren't going to get any help from anyone else, not even a little. Not after things had gotten to _some_ point or another, and after at that point… They never got any help ever, even when they _did_ try and ask, and Stan damn well knew what _that_ exact sort of rock-bottom felt like, and it wasn't pretty. This wasn’t something that had only happened to them after they’d become demons, though, or they’d be pissed off at ‘being demons now’ and _that_ all being oh so unfair -- neither of the pair of them were all _that_ dumb about things. No. This was something that had been happening a lot longer, before that. This was something _older_. This was something--

"They never got any help, even back before they were demons," Stan told Ford. "Not after…" the kid’s brother had died, Stan bet. And he’d sort of realized that before, yeah, with the way the kid had acted and talked all about it -- what _little_ the kid had talked all about it -- but… he hadn’t realized it like this. Not like this. Not _really_. Because-- "The kid… the way he talked about his parents. Ford, do you even know--" No. No, Ford didn’t, with the way he was looking at him like that. "This isn’t just something where the kid was getting gaslighted by everybody for--" Stan shook his head, cutting himself off at the whole ‘dead brother thing’. Because sayin’ that out loud right now was-- he’d better not. Not right now. ~~Not when he wasn’t barely thinkin’ straight, here, to maybe try and keep Ford from sayin’ or doin’ something _stupid_ that the kid might overhear later, and then--~~ "This wasn’t just one thing, Ford. This was--" everything. It was everything. ...Everything that mattered to the kid, he was pretty sure of, at least.

~~Nobody had helped out with-- after the kid’s brother--~~

"Stanley, what does this have to do with anything now," Ford asked of him, even and slow.

"It’s…" Stan grimaced. "The kid thinks of himself as some kinda independent triangle here somehow, right?" Ford frowned at him slightly, but also nodded once, almost cautiously. Right. "And… he doesn’t have anybody he can rely on…" Stan trailed off, grimacing, because Ford was just gonna tell him...

"Except you," Ford said, and… _what?_

...Hell. Stan blinked. He’d thought Ford was gonna smack him for thinking of him and the triangle being kinda the same and all that again: not being able to rely on anybody else.

"Uh…" Stan said, not really sure how to handle that one from his brother. "I guess? Kinda?" And he really didn’t get why Ford was lookin’ at him like that all over again now, kinda exasperated-like.

"Stan, you’re giving him food, clothing, shelter, and ‘schooling’," Ford said, and Ford almost didn’t roll his eyes at the last one, this time. "What part of relying on you for those things does what Bill has been doing _not_ entail?"

"...Thought you said he didn’t need me for any of that stuff," Stan said to his brother slowly, which for some reason had Ford looking even more exasperated at him, instead.

"He _doesn’t_ , but he is, and has been, relying on you for it and taking it from you," Ford told him, like it was some kinda _reminder_ of something.

"Ford, that ain’t relying on me," Stan told him, downright confused. "That’s just--" the heck? That was just the bare minimum there -- next to nothin’, almost. Hadn’t they _had_ this discussion? (That shit had been the _beginning_ of things -- the _in_ , not the _end_ of what Stan was tryin’ to do with him. The getting the kid to actually _rely_ on him part was--)

And now Ford looked just as confused and frustrated as he felt. "Then what, exactly, do you consider _relying on someone_ to be, Stan?"

"Havin’ their back in a fight," Stan told him promptly. "Lyin’ for ‘em if they need it. An alibi?" Stan told him next. Because seriously, was his brother _really_ asking him this one? Really? Those were two things they did for each other all the time, and... "Coming to me when they don't know somethin’, letting’ me help them figure it out," like he did with Ford _and_ the niblings... and had tried to do for some of those ‘partners’ of his that he’d been saddled with, back during those ten years when… (Well, he’d handled shit then, and it had been a hell of a lot easier after that, with the people he’d had the _choice_ of working with or not for a lot smaller and kinda more safe-ish little-bit-less-than-legal slew of little tiny no-problem not-so-time-consuming odd-jobs, later. When he’d been working with people who hadn’t always known what they were doin’, but who were actually willing to _listen_ to a guy who _did_ know what they were doin’, and do stuff maybe a little differently than they were doin’ it right then, in order to not go gettin’ themselves caught or make a little more money on the side for them all. By, y’know, like…) "Askin' me for advice, information, my opinion on what I think they should do, and trustin’ that I’m not just gonna lie and screw ‘em over for no damn reason, let alone any reason for it!"

(Stan had his hands thrown into the air by this point in exasperation. Because getting the kid to actually trust him _enough_ to rely on him for that sort of thing would actually give him some real _leverage_ with the triangle. And he mostly _had_ the triangle-demon-kid convinced at this point -- that it was even possible _at all_. That Stan _could_ pull it off, even with everythin’ else goin’ on with the rest of everyone else. And the kid _did_ want that all that from him, at least a little; at least _some_ of it, maybe, sometimes. And the kid _liked_ keeping all of as many of his options open as he could at all times; the kid didn’t want to dump a real chance that he had if it might be useful to him later, and the kid sure wouldn’t go _out of his way_ to do it, whether the kid thought whoever it was was a sucker or not -- and Stan was nobody’s fool. Which meant that the kid _had_ to ‘play along’ and _kinda_ ‘play nice’ to keep on _not_ losing that from him, that chance of more help and ideas from him later on in, in the future, by continuing to _not cross his line_ \--)

"You’re talking about treating him like the rest of us," Ford said, sounding shocked, and Stan pulled a face, scratched the back of his neck, and said, "Well, I…?" _Huh?_ "I mean…" What was his brother tryin’ to…?

Then Stan felt a jolt of shock go straight through him.

"--Oh _hell_ Ford, not like _that_ ," Stan said next in tones of horror, as he realized what Ford was _actually_ getting at there -- ‘cause hell, the kid wasn’t… wasn’t his _family_ , for the love of Paul Bunyan! (Hell, the idea made him feel _sick_ to his _stomach_.) But that didn’t mean-- "Ford, there’s a _hell_ of a lot of ground to cover, between treatin’ the kid like a rube or stabbin’ him in the back, and treatin’ him the same way I treat you and the kids and… y’know. Some other people sometimes," he told Ford, glancing away as he went off thinking of Wendy and Soos and Melody next, and trying not to show it.

"With you, it seems rather one way or the other, Stan," Ford said in odd tones, and Stan couldn’t help but frown at that.

"I got some in-betweens there," Stan protested a bit, looking back over at his brother. "Don’t even know where I was goin’ with this," Stan muttered out next, because now he really didn’t.

"Stan, you aren’t like him, and he isn’t like you," Ford told him next, firmly. "You can’t _possibly_ believe that!" and Stan couldn’t help but grimace and glower all over again, because...

"I know he’s not. But he kinda _is_ ," Stan told him, and damnit, just because he couldn’t explain it to his brother right now, didn’t mean that--

"Stan," Ford said in tones of forced patience he’d rarely heard out of his brother. "Bill is nothing like you. You care about your family _to your core_. While Bill--"

_Holy shit._ It hit Stan like a goddamn bolt out of the blue.

"--cares _nothing_ about his family at all," Ford continued on, then-- stopped, because he didn’t know why Stan had gone so absolutely pale on him just then.

"Shit," said Stan. "Shit-shit-shit." He looked more than a little shocky, running both hands up through his hair. Because--

\--nothing looked right when you were looking at it from the _outside_ , sometimes. When people didn’t know what you were doing--

\--if anybody had ever known to ask, and wondered what _runnin’ the Shack_ had had to do with getting _that portal_ all working again to begin with…

\--it had had _everything_ to do with it, though, because he’d needed the cash and the cover. Maybe it didn't make sense from the outside, not knowing anything about the portal, or _why_ that goddamn portal had been so important to get running again, but…

The cash, he’d needed to pay for things -- not just food and the water bill and junk, but the _mortgage_ to keep the actual _house_ in the first place ~~because if he’d ever lost the Shack to somebody for good~~ \-- and he’d needed money for all that electricity for the portal and all that stuff below the Shack, too -- like replacement parts for all the electronics -- and _none_ of that stuff _ever_ came cheap.

He’d even had to keep up with some of the con-man work and contacts with the local ‘criminal underbelly’, even though that made it more risky that somebody from those ten years would eventually hear about him at some point -- because _some_ of those things that he’d needed, he’d needed contacts to get for him, even if it was information on, say, how and when to break into a secure facility to go off stealing a shit-ton of radioactive waste barrels to portal a portal on later. Eventually.

But crime didn’t pay like it should unless you were doin’ something that risky, so he’d needed another _legal_ job on top of all that, to be able to stay in one place without pushing things to the point of having to bail and run again -- because _this time_ , he _couldn’t_ just go off bailing and running anymore when things got too hot for him to handle again. So there couldn’t be any running, and there couldn’t be no ‘too hot to handle’. That meant legal to get that much cash, at the amounts that he needed to work with. Night work paid better, but working on the portal during the day when everybody was awake would’ve had people talking about the ‘scientist at work in his lab’ and wanting to know _what the hell was all going on_ , not staying away from the spooky forest at night, which _just happened_ to have a cabin smack-dab in the middle of the spookiest part of it -- oh, how _mysterious_ \-- the perfect place to have that mysterious Mystery Shack.

So that meant working on the portal at night, which meant a day job for money instead. ...And with having a day job where he was his own boss, he worked his own hours, and nobody wondered what he was up to, to come looking. The rest of the town and everybody just thought that everything of it all was right there on the surface, no need to even go _looking_ for a basement down there… because basement? What basement? Why would they even _have_ a reason to go looking? All the Mystery Shack junk was right there, being all distracting and in your face, and for just twenty buck a person--

"...Stan?" Ford said to him slowly, and Stan seemed to shake himself out of his head again, his color coming back to him just a bit.

"Not here," Stan told him tersely. (He couldn’t not say this to Ford anymore. Tired or not, it had to be now. Ford wouldn’t _get_ it otherwise, if he didn’t...) "Your room, or the basement. Pick one."

...They ended up in Ford’s bedroom, and Ford barely got the door closed after letting Stan into it, before Stan said, "Kid wants his brother back, Ford."

Ford’s hand froze in place on the doorknob. He felt all his breath leave him in a flash.

It felt like all the _oxygen_ had left the room, all of a sudden, along with it.

Ford closed his eyes. He’d _worried_ about this ever since he’d first heard of it. Because...

"It’s a lie," he told his brother evenly, as he stood in place facing the door, with his back to his brother, not yet ready to face him in the face of... "It is a lie that Bill ever had a brother. You have to believe that, Stan. Bill is _playing_ you." He’d worried that, sooner or later, his brother would make the connection between _that_ tall tale, and what had happened with _them_ , and then...

"I can tell when the kid is lying," Stan told him.

...and then _this_ would occur, shortly thereafter.

"Bill has never confirmed it himself," Ford told him, ever so slowly letting go of the doorknob, still not yet ready to face him.

"Miz can’t lie to me, either," he heard Stan say. "I can tell when she--"

"--You don’t know that for certain," Ford said, cutting him off, and Stan went quiet. Stan _only_ went quiet. Stan wasn’t _agreeing_ with him, that-- "You don’t--"

"Ford, look at me," he heard his brother say, and Ford couldn’t quite cover the wince. He did manage to steel himself a little, though, as he finally turned around to face him.

...The hardest part was that he didn’t _look_ like a Bill convert. He still looked like his younger brother, even and still in his old-age. Even after this, even _with this_ , he still...

Ford felt the unshed tears burning in his eyes, and he _couldn’t_ \--

"Ford," Stan said slowly, looking like he was about to reach for him, and Ford shook his head once, abruptly, no. No. (He barely managed to keep himself from taking a step back. Backwards. _Away_ from his brother, who--)

"Ford, would you believe it if you heard the kid say it?" he was asked, and Ford felt himself go stiff for just a moment. "--Scratch that," he heard his brother say next. "Ford, I don’t _need_ to hear the kid say it, I already know it," he was told roughly.

"You don’t--" Ford said, just as roughly, and-- and he would _beat the answer_ out of Bill if he had to! He would _make_ Bill answer him, in Stan’s presence, in something that _was not a lie_ \--

"--Ford, the only reason I was able to get the kid to do that reconnection thing with you was because I got you to say that you wouldn’t kill his brother right away, if the kid brought him back." And Ford stared at him, because _what??_ What alternate dimension had he just fallen into without realizing it, for his brother to claim that he had done such a thing?! He’d _never_ \-- "Kid calmed down when you said you wouldn’t hold somethin’ against somebody for something somebody else did. _Not even the kid_ ," Stan said, like that meant something, as he stared directly into his eyes. As he said, "Not even a _somebody_ of the kid."

"That’s not what I--" _said_ , Ford started to protest, to tell him, because-- How had Stan gotten what he’d been saying back then so very wrong as _this?_ Stan-- Stan _had_ to know better than that. And Stan _had_ to have understood him at the time! --Stan had been asking him back then if he would blame _Bill_ for something that _Bill had not done_ , and… frankly, there was enough that Bill _had_ done that… but, it would be the height of stupidity to so simply blame the dream demon for absolutely _everything_ that was wrong with the universe, in _any_ universe; there _were_ limits.

"But you wouldn’t kill somebody, just because the kid cared about them," Stan said.

"No, of course not," Ford said, shaking his head, feeling far beyond and past dead tired on his feet at this point. "But that’s _hardly_ a point of any consequence, because--"

"--Ford, just _think about it_ for one goddamn minute," Stan told him roughly, and it made Ford stop ~~and freeze in place~~ for a moment again, because Stan sounded almost _angry_ with him this time. "The kid _calmed down_ when you told him and me that. What you said to me when I asked you, back then. He stopped bein' so about-two-seconds-away-from-killin'-you _angry_ with you anymore; he let me talk him into stoppin' his pushing you away so much. _Why would the kid care about that_ ," Stan asked him intently. " _Think about it_ , Ford. --Kid thinks he can take care of himself," he was told by his brother, "He wouldn’t _care_ about taking anybody else’s shit on. --So why would the kid care at all about _any_ of that," his brother told him next, "If the kid _didn’t_ have _anybody at all_ that all that could apply to, _the other way around?_ " Stan asked him.

And it left Ford utterly speechless.

"You remember how that demon-kid was lookin’ at you when you said that to him, right?" Stan asked him, intensely, looking so very sure… "You remember that. I know that you do. You were payin’ attention. You saw it." And Ford just… had no words for this. Utterly none. There was nothing that he could say to any of this, not at all.

His mind was almost blank from the strain.

"I figure it’s really a brother," he faintly heard Stan tell him next, as he slowly made his way over to his bed and he sat himself down before his legs could no longer support him, for feeling like water. "Kid doesn’t really know how to do the ‘sister’ thing right with Miz here, not really," he heard Stan say next, and… "If he’d been worried about Miz and not somebody else, he would've snapped at me when I brought _her_ up right then. But he didn't do that, Ford."

Ford sat there, quietly, on the edge of his bed, and closed his eyes. And he breathed.

After awhile, he heard footsteps, and he felt the bed mattress dip down a little next to him.

"...Ford?" he heard Stan say. "You okay?"

No. No, he _wasn’t_ okay. Nothing about this was okay.

Nothing about this was okay, and...

"...I think I’d like to finish reading the rest of this transcript right now," Ford said slowly, reopening his eyes only slightly, looking down at the papers still curled up in the grasp of his closed left hand in his lap. Because he didn’t want to think about right now. He didn’t want to think about _any_ of this right now.

His brother thought he was like Bill Cipher and Bill Cipher was like him, because Bill had a brother he cared about. _That_ was Stan’s thesis: that Bill Cipher was like him, because he’d had a brother he cared about.

That Stan thought that Bill Cipher was more like him than like _Ford_ , because they both had brothers they care or had cared about, at one point or another.

~~And Ford could not deal with that. Ford could not process, or deal with, the thought that Stan might think that Ford did not care about him, right now. He could not deal with the thought that Stan thought that the difference between them was that Stan cared about him, but that he, Ford, did _not_ care about his own brother -- him -- in return, and...~~

~~Ford could not deal with the thought that Stan believed that he did not care about him, that his own brother believed that Ford did not love him back--~~

Ford closed his eyes, and barely held back the tears.

(--If Stan didn’t believe that he loved him, that he cared about him, even after last summer, even after Weirdmageddon, even after _regaining his memories_ , even after _the boat_ and _sailing_ together--)

~~Ford didn’t know what to do about this. About any of this. He didn’t know how to _fix_ this, **any** of this, and--~~

There was a pause. (A far, far, _far_ too long sort of a pause.)

(And then...)

"Okay," he heard his brother say to him. Even though it wasn’t okay.

(It wasn’t okay.)

And Stan didn’t say anything else to him for awhile.

...Until he said, "Hell, Ford, I know he’s not the same as me, okay?" after Ford had finally reopened his eyes, once he’d _not_ been in any immediate danger of ~~crying openly about--~~ reacting badly to anything else that he might say.

And it took Ford a moment to blink, and bring his head out of what he’d been reading ~~to escape the thought of Stan thinking--~~ a bit, to quietly listen to his brother again for a little bit, just a little bit again, at least. Because he could do that, at least. He could at least do that for his brother. ~~Even if he couldn't really help him, when he didn't know how. Because he didn't know how.~~ Even if he still couldn’t look up at Stan again, yet, he could at least still _listen_ to him and let him know he'd been heard.

He could do _that_ much for him, at least.

(Maybe if he just listened and let Stan talk about it all long enough, Stan _would_ talk himself out of it…)

~~(He had to believe that he would. Because if he didn't…)~~

"It’s just… this crazy mirroring thing going on with him, okay?" Stan told him next. "I… I wasn’t thinking that there might be more than one angle to all of it, really, that’s all," his brother told him. "I know it’s the same thing, but sometimes it sorta just kicks me in the brain, when I come at it all from a different angle. I don’t know how to explain it," his brother told him, "But it looks _different_ sometimes, when I--"

"Cut glass," Ford interjected quietly, staring down at the pages in front of him, because… "You’re thinking of cut glass, Stanley. Or diamonds." Because they might _seem_ clear and very straightforward, but... "They refract the light differently; depending on the angle, it looks different, what you see. Even though it’s really all the same thing, it’s all still just an illusion." ~~Just pretty colors and shadows thrown up against the wall…~~ And his brother went quiet again.

"...But you can still kinda tell where the cuts are from the reflections you’re seein’ there, right," Stan said next, and Ford closed his eyes for a moment, sighed briefly, and said, "Yes." (He _admitted_ it, really.)

Stan was quiet for another few moments, before he said slowly, "...Kid’s got some pretty deep cuts in him, doesn’t he."

And at that, Ford almost let out a tired laugh. Because... what was he supposed to say to that? That Bill was a being of pure energy, and that pure energy didn’t _take_ cuts like physical matter did? And as for what Bill was like mentally...

No. There was no point to telling Stan such, any of it. It was late, he was deathly tired, and he didn’t want to get into any further argument with his own brother on...

So Ford told him tiredly, "Yes, Stan. He does." Not that it made any difference at this point, to believe so one way or the other. ‘Deep cuts’ of any sort or not, Bill was still dangerous, still an unrepentant murderer, still and always for their own safety and that of the rest of the multiverse absolutely needed to die and, this time, _stay that way_...

(And the unspoken truth, that Ford was rather relieved that Stan didn’t know enough about what had happened to him over the years with Bill enough to voice, was, _"So do you._ ")

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: So Jo got sick and I was busy with work, Inktober and the d&d campaign that I'm running for my friends (woo! My first time DMing!) and we didn't get to finish editing. I legit passed out <.<
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Yeah… things went downhill from here. Chapters 118 thru 128 include Ch. 98 and 99 (in many pieces), and 6 interlude chapters.
> 
> [Chapter 118](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/50489669) is an interlude chapter ("Chapter 98.1") back in MizBill's home dimensional set.
> 
> [Chapter 119](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/50738480) is also an interlude chapter ("Chapter 98.2") back in MizBill's home dimensional set.


	36. Chapter 98.5: Anything your sick mind desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> A conversation 30 years in the making  
> A scheming dragon smugly watches on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 120 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/50965990). It was first posted on Nov 11, 2019.

\----

Ford frowned down at the papers he was holding in his lap -- this ‘transcript’ of Bill’s -- as he finally calmed down enough to finally be able to really begin to _focus_ on them enough to read through them properly, tensing and grimacing every so often as he worked his way through reading them.

He only had half an inkling of why Stan might have wanted him to have a copy. If he’d had to make an educated guess, it was likely in part a sort of checking of where the lines currently stood with Cipher -- how far Bill would let Stan ‘push’ him, for something that was clearly meant to benefit _Ford_ in some way -- (which was not something Ford would consider to be a good idea to try and check outright), and in other part a sort of… well, as far as Ford could tell, with the _way_ Stan had tried to hand it to him, it was probably meant as...

...It hadn’t been meant as a peace offering, but rather more of a datapoint. Stan had requested transcripts from Bill before, but Stan hadn’t let anyone else see or _read_ them before. Giving Ford one for the sole purpose of being able to read it himself presumably gave him the opportunity to see exactly what sort of information Bill had been giving Stan, and in exactly the form and format in which it was being presented to his brother.

Oddly enough, the pages were color-coded by the person that was speaking. It didn’t make sense, until Ford realized that reading the lines of words meandering themselves up and down across the page was more like reading a music sheet than a transcript, with the way the overlapping conversations were being displayed at the same time...

And it truly was a straightforward transcript. There was no information inside it that related tone, facial expression, gesturing, relative-placement between the individuals, or any of their general behaviors. There was also enough overlap with what he had heard outside of the door for Ford to be able to note that it was missing general actions as well, such as the girls setting up their sleeping bags and similar.

It also had nothing about whatever thoughts they might have had inside their heads. This was all just the things said aloud during the various conversations. There was no context at all to be seen.

And while that was frustrating enough on its own Ford didn’t quite understand the point of the inclusion of the rather pointless-looking ‘bar’ notation surrounding the various lines of text, either. It seemed to be just an odd set of nonsense lines added in as framing surrounding them top and bottom, in a weird sort of stylized--

Then Ford’s brain caught up to him and he stopped for a moment and blinked. Because he’d thought _’weird’_.

Ford glanced up at Stan.

" _This_ is what Bill thinks is ‘accurate to the very-best of his ability’?" It wasn’t quite a rhetorical question; Ford _knew_ Bill could do better than this, because Bill _read_ people better than this. ...Which meant that he was missing something here.

Stan shrugged. "Kid wasn’t lying. What’s the problem?"

Ford grimaced as he flicked at the open pages in front of him in annoyance. "This is devoid of anything visual," he noted. And quite frankly, for something from Bill Cipher, Master of the Mind with an All-Seeing Eye, that was rather disturbing in and of itself.

Stan eyed him for a moment. "It's a transcript," he said neutrally. Stan didn’t get what his brother’s problem was there. Whole thing was written down on paper. How was _that_ not ‘visual’?

"Does Bill really only have the ability to record audio of all words and actions taken inside the Shack?" Ford said, looking up at Stan. (Ford already knew the answer to this, though: Bill _did_ have the ability to pick up cross-spectrum visuals of all types, in the form of that suit that he was wearing. What Ford wanted to know right _now_ was, was his own brother going to continue to keep stonewalling him over this, or--)

Stan shrugged. "Hey, you’ve seen a couple those crystal-listening things. We both know the kid’s got audio around the place. Kid can’t use his Seeing-eye or whatever with the barrier thing you’ve got around the Shack, even if I let him do his whole Weirdness-thing again, no strings attached. Pretty sure he can get visual one way or another though," Stan told him noncommittally, scratching his cheek. (He didn’t want to put the idea out there that the kid could probably read the signal from whatever cameras Ford had up, even if the kid’s suit wasn’t picking up and recording whatever for him. Ford hadn’t told him out on deck what the kid could grab with that suit of his, and the kid hadn’t told him either, but it was clear that the kid had gotten what he and Miz had been saying to each other from that, at least.)

Ford gave his brother a long look.

Stan sighed. "Ford, what are you thinkin’ is supposed to be in there that ain’t there?" he tried next.

"Gestures?" Ford tried, feeling frustrated. "Tone, pitch, facial expressions, emotions -- _something_ ," Ford noted with no small exasperation. It felt largely and _frustratingly_ incomplete -- something that was not least of which offset by the way the words were… _drawn out_ across the page, as it were. In the same way that the ‘measures’ seemed to show who was talking over, or at the same time as, whom, the words and letters themselves were spaced out and _drawn_ out, almost as if stretched across the page, in places. The ‘beat’ and _rhythm_ of the words were there, but the _tone_ of the words was--

He looked up at Stan in frustration for confirmation of this, because Stan understood _theatricality_ , of the sort that Bill himself would and did like to use, and… Stan was looking at him almost puzzled for a moment.

And then Stan’s face cleared and he leaned back in his chair and said, "Ford, flip to the last couple pages of that thing for a moment, willya?"

Ford frowned at his brother -- not particularly liking the idea of skipping ahead in his reading at this stage -- but he did so, and when he did...

...he had to stop and blink.

And Ford flipped back a few pages to the beginning of what looked like...

There was an appendix to the transcript. A very, _very_ long appendix.

...Two appendices. It was almost something of a dictionary and a grammar-guide for how to read the document appropriately. It gave the color-codings and explicitly matched them to the person. It explained the horizontal spacing of the text in the context of timing in relation to syllable length of the words as-given. ...It also gave an explanation of the vertical spacing within the stylized ‘bars’ -- which apparently included an indication of who was talking to whom by the spacing and groupings there, and also who was paying _attention_ to whom _during_ those conversations, with the thin lines of color that flickered up and down between the actual text when the individuals weren’t talking.

And when he flipped to the next page and began to read the section on how to decode what he’d originally thought to be simply ‘stylized bars’, of the sort of over-the-top theatricality on the page distracting in the way it was offsetting what was truly _important_ on the page for no apparent reason, of the same and rather usual sort of madness that Ford generally expected to see out of Bill visually as he _talked_...

"...This is…" It left Ford blinking slightly in shock. Because those bars… Bill had created a method for displaying effectively, via a written and almost music-score-like medium, something that would otherwise require a single good audio feed and a _multitude_ of video feeds from _several_ angles, to capture and display everything later to someone what was going on in a single room setting between a group of more than four people -- since Bill had included himself, Dipper, and Ford in that transcript, along with the three girls and one demon. Those ‘stylized bars’ were an exact encoding of what Ford had thought was missing entirely from the ‘score’: the tone and pitch and ‘expression’ information were represented by the markings making up the top ‘bar’ above each grouping of text, while the physical actions and ‘gestures’ were given as part of the bottom 'bar' of the score. Ford hadn’t quite picked up on any correlation with the text, because the _bars_ had been written in greyscale, _not_ color-coded themselves -- but with the ‘grammar’ of the _way_ the information was being shown in those top and bottom ‘bars’, it would have resulted in mixed shades of color (in potentially some rather awful color combinations) to try and track everything in that respect. There was a partial overlap of the greyscale markings between individuals due to said ‘grammar’ of the ‘bar’ structure, and…

...the arrangement on the page as a whole was far better than any purely static representation that Ford himself ever could have thought of.

But Ford did not say that aloud. Frankly, he didn't want to _admit_ that. ~~The fact that he was _still_ being schooled by Bill on things at this late date…~~

But that didn’t mean that Ford would refuse to read or use it, or that he was otherwise incapable of understanding it and doing so.

He worked his way through the grammar and vocabulary in the appendix that was describing the bars, as it became more and more dense to understand, and… Ford shook his head, and gave up a bit. He removed the appendix out of the back of the stack and spread out several of the pages out to his side, across the bed, for easy reference. (He knew he wasn’t going to be able to memorize all aspects of this new ‘language’ in the span of only a few minutes; it only seemed to become more and more intricate and nuanced as it went. --There seemed to be base ‘reactions’ with modifiers on them, akin to describing ‘anger’ and then refining the explanation to ‘annoyance’ or ‘rage’ and describing the target as inward or outwardly defined; similar modifiers seemed to describe physical gestures and motions in terms of emphasis, negation, stress level, or some other 'subtext'ual 'flavor' of some sort -- such as 'nervousness' or 'casual reflection'.)

Ford pulled up a leg onto the bed and shifted sideways, to turn towards the pages in front of him, to make it as easy as possible on himself -- to be able to glance up to see his reference point, as it were, rather quickly as he read the rest of the transcript pages that he held in his lap -- for as smooth and short of an interruption to his reading as possible.

Frankly, Ford didn’t know why Bill had put this ‘key’ in the end-matter, rather than at the start of everything ~~like he _should_ have if he'd wanted anyone to understand what they were reading~~, but…

...well, it _was_ just like Bill, though, wasn’t it? Leaving the most-important things you needed know about everything until the very, very end ~~when it was already far too late by far to~~ …

Ford let out a huff, as he got down to his reading again -- his _re_ -reading, really. And as he did, this time as he read the transcript, he glanced up and back to double-check his understanding of what he was reading, for that potentially critical little bit more detail that he might need to truly assess the situation _properly_ , as he went.

(It occurred to Ford absently as he went, to wonder if this was a representation that Bill actually used for himself, to try and characterize and understand all other people in the world around him, or if it was simply a method that Bill thought was most accurate when trying to write things in a human-readable format. Because if it was the former… well, Ford could potentially learn quite a lot if it was the former. But if it was the latter...)

(...well, it would still say quite a lot about what Bill thought of humans and how they communicated with each other; how Bill thought he needed to communicate to humans, when he was trying to be _accurate_ about things, ‘to the very-best of his ability’.)

(Bill had been oddly musical at times, long ago -- and over the years, over and over again -- and, admittedly, sometimes still, even now. Ford had commented on it absently at times before... the _portal_ incident... and Bill had never really given him a straight answer on his own preferences, when it came to music. He’d always seemed to talk around the subject a bit, talking about other _human_ composers, other _human_ works, and generally otherwise being a good bit distracting on the subject. He always put it in _human_ context; he had dropped the barest of _hints_ and little factoids at times about what music was like in other dimensions. But Bill never really talked about it in great detail, and he’d never really talked about it in relationship to himself. Not really. Not as anything more than a throwaway comment.)

(But Bill could play the piano. Bill talked about singing sometimes. Bill had once said that music had come before language for humans -- in what Ford thought of as language, anyway. Bill had, during one conversation that had ended up, in Ford’s opinion, going quite literally nowhere, _insisted_ that music was language, and human language was music, and that Ford should stop being such a stick-in-the-mud about _something_ -or-another that they’d been discussing in detail at the time.)

(...And if this representation was any indication of it, Bill certainly had found a way to represent human language as something almost music-like at some point. He was clearly trying to make a point, _his_ point, all over again, about human language being _always and nothing more than another kind of music, Sixer, get with the program here and sing a few bars with me, yeah? Don’t be shy! Just try and BELT OUT a few notes with me here, and MAYBE you’ll understand--!!_ )

(...But Bill was just finding another way to lie by leaving things out here, too. Wasn’t he? Because in all his thirty years out there in the multiverse, on the other side of that portal, the amount of music that Ford had encountered had been all and almost nothing but... _flat_. --Ford had, once upon a time, looked up several studies at Bill’s urging, on the impact of music on brainwave function, among other things, and Ford could admit that there were some oddities there. But the idea that humans largely _thought in music_ still felt almost foreign to him, even as he couldn’t explain why the rest of the multiverse was so very unmusical itself. Why what little rhythm and beat that he’d heard out there just didn’t seem to be very _catchy_. Why the species that seemed to do even that much seemed to be the ones he’d always found easiest to talk to, and the others that were the most logical -- who _should_ have been easiest to carry a conversation with, by comparison, had always seemed to be the hardest to communicate with instead. Why humming to himself sometimes as he worked, or waited, or drew a picture in his latest journal, just made whatever species that was nearby him turn and look at him oddly, like they were trying to parse what he must be trying to _say_. And Ford had never quite figured out if his universal translator had just not been _working_ during those moments, or if it had been malfunctioning somehow, but...)

(...Ford frowned to himself. Because he was going to have to bring this up with Bill eventually, and… he wasn’t particularly looking forward to that.)

Stan watched his brother frown, and read, and frown some more for awhile, then Stan let out a soft sigh that was almost a grunt and looked down at his crossword puzzle. Page was almost swimming on him at this point; he flipped it closed and stowed it away, just crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair where he was sitting at Ford’s desk, facing him.

(If he closed his eyes and fell asleep, that probably wouldn’t be so bad. He’d slept in worse places, in chairs a lot less comfortable than this wooden one.)

Ford continued reading, and checking the appendices that had been included, and reading some more as he went, until he finally caught up to where he’d been reading again, and moved beyond and past it.

Ford grimaced as he read about the man-eater's mention of her powers ‘just doing things outside her control’ whenever she lost control. --He’d never really understood why some demons seemed to insist on pushing themselves to a point where their ‘powers’ outstripped their ability to control said ‘powers’ and abilities -- or why some of them seemed to actively pursue chaotic powers that were almost _random_ in effect, almost as likely to make things worse for them than better. As far as he’d been able to determine, those sorts of demons were either _incredibly_ stupid, or simply wanted to make things more difficult for themselves (and for others) almost _deliberately_ , as they played innocent about all the problems they were causing all the while. ... _Clearly_ the man-eater must be one of the latter of these two; Bill had little to no patience for the former.

Ford frowned to himself over this, though. Miz didn’t seem the standard type of the latter set, despite this; most of the time, what the man-eater tried to do with her powers _was_ what she wanted to have actually happen and was actually able to enact upon the world around her, largely with impunity, as far as he’d been able to tell. He continued on, brushing that matter aside for the moment -- whatever it was, she clearly had to be fooling Bill in some aspect over it. Asking after Bill’s help for more control was bad enough; the idea of the man-eater potentially actually _getting_ Bill’s help on things beyond what she’d needed for her ‘empathetic’ emotion-’hearing’ issue was the stuff of nightmares. Whatever else she might say that she was wanting ‘help’ from Bill on, was likely just the start of a long line of false plays for sympathy. ...And yet Ford couldn’t imagine anyone, demon or person, putting themselves in _that_ sort of danger -- leaving themselves at the whims of an uncontrolled emotion-sensing ability -- _just_ to try and get themselves an ‘in’ with Bill Cipher. Bill _could_ have just as likely turned the man-eater down, laughing at the man-eater for her stupidity all the while, or otherwise _exploited_ it--

~~...except…~~

Even Bill knew, and had known, and had reacted with horror at the very thought of her being in those dire-straits himself…

~~...and Ford had felt absolutely certain that Bill would react that negatively upon hearing that, even though he’d had no evidence of that before. He’d _known_ Bill would not be happy about that, and would at the very least not stop anyone from trying to fix it. Even though Bill was… _Bill_ , and Bill...~~

Ford shook his head, and forced himself to continue, deciding that he would at least get himself to the point at which the transcript began to cover that which had come up at the kitchen table earlier that night before he tried to go to sleep, what had been discussed between the man-eater and Mabel that had supposedly led to Mabel telling the man-eater what to say to him next. Ford was tired, and he wanted to get through this transcript enough that he could finish this conversation with Stanley, and then finally go to sleep...

~~Axolotl help him, he actually _wanted_ to fall asleep right now, he was dead _tired_...~~

So Ford continued to read. And read. And read.

And when Ford _finally_ got to the part of Mabel and Miz's conversation that they’d all been referring to at the dinner table earlier…

...Ford simply shook his head, as he turned to the next page and read onwards. --It meant nothing, the man-eater was still just as bad, no matter what she had said.

And, having gotten this far and having become more used to how to read this ‘musical score’ of text finally, he decided he might as well continue on with his reading until the end. He was nearly at the end of it as it was. And he’d have to read it all sooner or later anyway, wouldn’t he? And for all he knew, the subject might have come up between Mabel and the man-eater multiple times over the course of that night. The man-eater had certainly repeated herself on multiple occasions before this point. So it would be better if he read the rest of it now, before handing it back to Stanley.

Ford turned another page, and upon reading the man-eater's apparent claim that ‘he liked her lies more’, he shook his head and grimaced again. The utter audacity of her to suggest that was--!! And the fact that she’d done it _right_ in front of Bill Cipher, no less!...

But that wasn’t enough to stop Ford from reading any further in absolute disgust, and so Ford continued to read on.

And then… Ford read something and froze in place, his heart beating a mile a minute with a feeling of dread as he had to stop, take a shallow breath, and _reread_ it, because...

\--that _couldn’t_ be right. That _had_ to be a lie. It couldn’t--

Stan heard a sharp intake of breath, and he grimaced grumpily and raised his head (hell, he’d nearly dozed off for a second there…). And when Stan looked over, he saw that Ford went really damn pale at something he was reading, and--

Stan pulled in a slow breath himself. He’d moved over to the chair at the desk a bit farther away from Ford a good while ago to give him (them both) some space as he read, instead of sittin’ at his shoulder, breathing down his neck. But now he was startin’ to wish that he hadn’t, because bein’ halfway across the room from him meant he didn’t know why his brother was actin’ that way from what he’d been reading, and…

"...Ford?" Stan tried, sitting up a bit, as his brother kept not getting any less pale on him, just kept on starin’ down at those pages. And Stan didn’t get what was goin’ that wrong over there. He hadn’t thought that there was anythin’ in there that would be a problem for Ford to go off reading. (...So what had he missed and gotten all wrong _this_ time? ~~Had the kid known? Was _that_ why he’d looked at Ford like that when Stan had said--?? No. No. Like _hell._ The _demon_ didn’t know his own brother better than _he_ did. _Hell_ no.~~)

"Ford, what’s the problem," Stan asked of him directly, in his usual tones of gravel, and this time...

"...Would the anchor burn you if we tried the circle?" Ford asked of him quietly, not looking up from the pages in front of him. He didn't want to believe it; it was clearly another of the man-eater's lies -- one that would make any one of them not want to even contemplate the apparent _risk_ of performing the circle -- but…

The idea, the very _possibility_ , of Stanley potentially getting hurt or killed by the use of the circle in the process of destroying the demon for good, was _not_ something that Ford could just _let go_ of. He would _not_ , could not, simply ignore something like that. Ford simply could not discount, ignore, or refuse to think about such a possibility once-voiced, in the hopes that he could leave the reality of the whole thing to _chance_. Because that would be what it would be at this point; blind _chance_. Because the idea of wagering Stan’s life on the blind hope (and unconfirmed fact) that the demon simply must have lied to Mabel about this…

(...and then further _tricked Bill_ (?!) into thinking that she _hadn’t_ been lying when she’d said that, sight and evidence of the truth of _any_ of that yet-still unseen…?)

Ford shook himself, trying to make sense of his own racing thoughts, of the roiling mix of feelings that were slowly turning into a hard knot just under his breastbone, making it a bit difficult for him to breathe; it felt like there was a mess of strings tangling and pulling themselves harder and closer and harder together inside his chest, as they rolled and jerked themselves around uncontrollably this way and that, as they went.

\--And it didn’t help that Ford had no idea how the anchor worked, or why or how Stan had it in the first place, or what it even looked like -- because Stanley _still_ wouldn't let him look at whatever the thing looked like on Bill Cipher’s back, wouldn’t force Bill to expose it, and--

...Except he couldn’t say that he didn’t know how Stan had gotten that anchor the man-eater had been talking about anymore, now, could he. Not if the man-eater wasn’t lying about...

_'--his twin burned that anchor into him during a fight--'_ \-- _'--if that Stanford attempts to brand the anchor onto any of you--'_

He didn’t want to ask. He _really_ didn’t want to ask.

~~He’d _already_ asked, _and Stan wasn’t answering him._~~

The paper in Ford's lap began to crinkle under the pressure being exerted by his hands...

He really, _truly_ , did **not** want to ask. But...

...This was important, critical, _crucial_ information to know. And Ford _could not_ leave this to chance.

Which meant…

"Stan, how did you get the anchor you have…" oh, it hurt to say it, " _in **common** with_ Bill?" he asked of his brother quite quietly. And he very carefully left off the ‘do you know?’ that _should_ have gone at the end of it. He didn’t want to give his brother the out. Because if Stan didn’t know...

~~\-- _if Stan didn’t remember, because of that damn memory gun_ \--~~

...Except he _did_ know. Of course he knew. Of course Stan did know about it; Dipper had talked about that tattoo on Stan’s back, and Stan _could_ have shown it to him, to _any_ of them, at any time -- no matter how reticent Bill himself was being on the matter -- but Stan hadn’t done that. Stan hadn’t. He just _hadn’t_. Stan had never even _offered_ , not once, to show it to him, and--

"It’s not important," Stan said to him gruffly, finally. Except that it was important. It was. It was, and...

\--His brother _didn’t_ sound confused about it, what they both were talking about here, and he wasn’t trying to play dumb with him, on this, now. Stan hadn’t been surprised about it, either; when Dipper had first brought it up, when Bill Cipher had first started yelling at them all about all of it, Stan hadn’t been surprised. Not when Stan had heard about it out on that porch from Dipper, after all that come before; not when Bill had started yelling about how Ford himself didn’t know what he was talking about; no, Stan hadn’t been surprised at all about _any_ of it, no, not really.

_’--Kid, I don’t really wanna know, but I gotta ask: is that thing you’ve got all down your back screwing with your brain anywhere _near_ as badly as that deal you had with Ford?--’_

Stan hadn’t been surprised. He hadn’t even been _shocked_ , when Dipper had brought it all up, right then and there, out on the porch there that day. No, Stan had just taken it all in _stride_ ; he’d been calm about it. Dipper had seen it before; he’d told Ford much later _when_ he’d seen it -- during some apparent seizure Bill had been having in the bathtub -- and when Stan had apparently gone upstairs and retrieved Bill-- ...Stan had seen it all before, weeks ago, too, and _that_ meant that...

\--Ford wasn’t stupid. He dropped the ‘transcript’ onto the bed, scattering loose papers at his side, and stood up.

"Show me your shoulder, Stan," he said quietly, and with the way Stan immediately stood up and _bristled_ , the way Stan’s hands clenched into _fists_ that weren’t even staying completely at his sides, with the way his brother’s shoulders came up--

"You’ve never let me see your back," Ford added, just as quietly as before, looking at him straight-on. "Not on the boat; not even in the Fearamid, when we were both changing our clothes." Stan had even -- _instinctively_ \-- not turned his back on him _or_ the niblings, when they’d been helping him change _back_ into his own clothes after they’d found him again after everything was over and done with, in the woods… "You’ve never let me see your back, not even once, since I’ve been back home again in this dimension." And yes, Ford was already feeling the warning of the coming storm between them, but he couldn’t just let--

"--You never let me see your _neck_ when _you’re_ changin’ clothes, or putting on a new turtleneck," Stan tossed out there right back -- which was a bit of a low blow, but Ford took the hit -- and moved with it -- and then Ford went even lower. Because _now_...

"Dipper told me once that you claim that you don’t have a tattoo on your back, but that’s incorrect." And now Ford _knew_ "He misspoke, didn’t he," Ford asked of his brother, _and you weren’t lying._ And Ford was barely able to pull in his next breath, before he said, and had to say -- it was _hard_ , trying to plough right through it all, saying, "It’s not a tattoo, and it’s not on your back; it’s on your shoul--"

Ford was flat on his back on the bed within the span of a second -- less than a breath -- less than the space of a thought -- papers fluttering all around him, half-forgotten in the rush and _reaction_ of it all, and--

Ford was looking up at Stan who was in-turn looming down over him from above. Stan’s hands were shoving down on him at _his_ shoulders from above with most of Stan’s weight, and-- Ford didn’t even let himself fight it, hands at and away slightly from his sides. He could have fought it; Stan just wasn’t as fast as him anymore, by comparison, and while they were likely at equal-odds when it came to strength, Stan was nowhere close to him when it came to leverage and technique. But Ford didn’t do that. He didn’t fight it.

~~He didn’t deserve to fight it.~~

He somewhat expected Stan to toss a punch at his face next, to yell something or another out at him angrily for bringing it up to begin with, when he so clearly did _not_ want to talk about any of it, to… Ford _expected_ Stan to do _something_ like that, to get in a fight with him over it, for bringing that up, how Ford had hurt him when it hadn't been the least bit deserved in any way...

That was exactly what Ford expected to have happen next. ~~And then _maybe_ they could _begin_ to talk about it, once all that old poisonous and rightly-deserved anger was spewed out at him, after.~~

What Ford _hadn’t_ expected was what _actually_ happened next. Not what happened _instead_. Because Ford hadn't expected to see the look he was now seeing on Stan’s face -- as it finally registered with him, and Ford grew quiet as it did so. As he realized that…

Ford never could, never _would_ have expected to see _that look_ on his brother’s face next, in response to his words, nor to hear him say--

"-- _Don’t act like you’re **sorry** about it_," Stan ground out at him, _quietly_ , in low tones that weren’t just made of gravel, they were so very much worse.

And Ford opened his mouth to say just that. To say that, and to protest. To say, ‘but I _am_ sorry, it was an accident--’

But he didn’t say that before he stopped himself from saying it; Ford stopped right at the edge of the cliff-face of doing so, at the feeling of ash that spread over his tongue as the thought of saying that, just that, had him realizing…

Ford _stopped_ , as he realized what he’d just been about to say to his brother. What he'd just been about to call what he had done to him. To _him_. What he had been just about to say to his brother, to _him_ , after forty years of--

"I didn’t mean to--" _do it_ , was what Ford started to say instead, as he stared up at his brother above him almost helplessly -- because what else _could_ he say, really? It was all he _could_ say without making himself into the very-worst of hypocrites left alive to still be drawing breath--

\--but even _that_ was apparently wrong, too.

Because Ford felt himself lifted and slammed back down into the mattress and loose papers scattered and scattering under his back in short order, and it left him almost breathless in shock. Because Stan’s hands were in fists in the front of his shirt, now, and his grip was almost _punishing_ , and the way he was looking at him _**now**_ was--

" _\--Don’t **lie** about it, damn you!_" his brother told him in shaky and angry, oh so very angry, tones. Stan’s eyes were blazing with it, as he-- "You _heard_ me scream, and you shoved me into it _**even harder!!**_ "

And at his brother’s words, screamed down at him under his breath ~~because Stan didn’t want to risk waking the niblings, oh god, he didn’t want them to _know_ that-- that he’d--~~ everything inside of Ford’s head zeroed out to a white-noise sort of static null, as he stared up at his brother’s angry, _terrified_ , twisted and hurt face. Because he couldn’t-- he didn’t--

"I-- I didn’t--" Ford stammered out, barely able to hear himself over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his own ears, and he felt the fists caught up in his shirt tighten even further. "I-- I didn’t _mean_ to do it, I-- _I--_ " Ford stammered out as he stared up at his brother. And Ford felt his breath going thready on him, felt like reality was slipping sideways underneath and around him, as the look his brother was giving him only got _angrier still_. "I-- I didn’t _actually_ do that, did I? I-- I-- _couldn’t_ have," Ford stammered out next, in nothing but shock and a terrible confusion, but the look on Stan’s face wasn’t changing any, only growing more and more angrier as he talked if it was changing at all, and--

No. No. --No.

"I-- I _didn’t_ , did I?" Ford was starting to feel both anxious and scared ~~if not utterly terrified outright, because he couldn’t have, could he? He couldn’t have--~~ because-- because-- "I--"

(He had been sleep-deprived for weeks.)

"--I didn’t--"

(He barely remembered _half_ of what he’d said to Stan in the portal room, before they’d fought.)

"--I didn’t _do_ that to you, _did I?!?_ " Ford said, voice rising at the end there, in panic (and his eyes began to tear up).

"You _shoved_ me into that panel," Stan said to him in tones of terrible anger, voice shaking as he-- "--and you _held me there_ with your _foot_ until I couldn’t--" Stan told him, and then had to stop telling him, in those same, horrible, shaking and terribly-angry tones, fists in his shirt shaking -- Stan was _shuddering_ at the memory of it, even _now_ \-- and Ford-- no-- he couldn’t-- he _couldn’t_ \--

\-- _he **couldn’t** have done that_\--

"I-- I _can’t remember doing that_ \--" Ford told him, blurted out at him, as he racked his brain, trying to-- (no, he hadn’t _meant_ to) trying to at least _remember_ \-- (he _couldn’t_ have, _could_ he?) to do Stanley at least the courtesy of _remembering_ \-- (but he couldn’t) because he couldn’t remember-- and (oh, please, Stan, he _had_ to believe him) he hadn’t _meant_ to-- (he truly _hadn’t meant to_ ) because he’d thought-- he hadn’t-- but Ford-- he-- "I-- I hadn’t slept for-- weeks…?"

(But Ford couldn’t remember how long he’d been without sleep anymore, if he’d even known it himself at the time; all he really remembered was everything just… starting to blur together into one long frantic terror-filled stream of panic and paranoia, and a loss of almost all sense of the passage of time, despite all his efforts to the contrary, in order to make sure that he knew he could stay awake, he’d _had_ to _**stay awake**_ , and--)

"I-- I remember we were _fighting_ , and--" Ford couldn’t help but flinch as he had to admit, "I-- I remember kicking you up against… against the side of-- of... the… p-p--" and he ran out of breath, and he shuddered. "B-but I remember you screaming and… I remember letting _go_ ," Ford told him in sheer desperation, "I-- _I thought I pulled back and **let go**_ \--" he told his brother, begging, _pleading_ with him, because he-- he _couldn’t_ have **pushed** him **into** it instead, _could_ he? He-- He _couldn't have--!!_ \--No. _No._ Please, _**no--**_

(And it was only later, much later, the next morning, that it would occur to Ford Pines to wonder, if this was part of the reason why his brother seemed to have thought that Ford didn't love him.)

And Stan stared down at his brother in confused and angry disbelief, as Ford shook his head from side to side at him, looking him right in the eye as he said -- as he _choked out at him_ \-- "I didn’t _mean_ to, Stan, _I’m sorry_ \--" as tears overflowed and dripped out of Ford's eyes, cascading down the sides of his face, as his brother looked up at him, both sorry and _scared_ , halfway to _sobbing_ , and...

And Stan didn’t get it. He just _didn’t get it._ Because he remembered what he remembered, and… and _Ford_ remembered what he remembered, too. Because Stan could _tell_ that _**Ford wasn’t lying**_...

Stan remembered that fight. (How could he _not?_ ) He remembered nearly getting Ford in a headlock at one point. ...He remembered Ford _cheating_ , even though you never can cheat in a brawl -- because in a knock-down drag-out fight like _that_ one had been, anything goes.

He remembered Ford managing to trip him the fuck up, like the fuck up that he was (and still-is, really). Stan remembered getting that boot heel to his shoulder, and his shoulder to that burning hot panel behind him. Oh, how he remembered that one. ...And he remembered Ford’s face, too, as he’d held -- _pushed_ and held, and **held** , _AND HELD_ \-- him up against that white-hot thing of _nothing but pain_ behind him -- not a rictus grin of ‘I’ve _got_ you, I’ve _won_ ’ writ large across his face, but simply a dagger-eyed and grimacing thin-lipped _smile_ that said the _exact same thing_ , only **worse** \-- as Ford had pushed and held him up against that white-hot panel, until Stan had run out of breath screaming. Until Stan just couldn’t scream anymore. Until he couldn’t even pull in another _breath_ past the _**pain**_ \--

"Oh Axolotl, that panel was over 300 degrees, the portal was _on_ fully," he heard his brother whisper out next, in tones of absolute and completely-shocked horror, pale as anything…

...and it was official, Stan felt like he was in the fucking twilight zone, here. He could only stare down at Ford, the anger slowly draining out of him (whether he wanted it to or not...) as he saw his brother’s eyes go slightly unfocused, sliding away from his face, staring sightlessly at a point over his shoulder, lost in his own head again, and…

...Stan lost the last of the anger he'd held onto completely, as he heard Ford say next, in tones that only got more and more horrified as he went, "That would have gone and-- and burned _straight through_ your _jacket_ , y-you--" and when Ford started clutching at his lower arms and wrists almost frantically, seeming to finally start to come out of it, coming back to himself, looking up at Stan again and saying, " _Stan_ , you--" and then _reaching up for him_ , for his _face_ , looking all _concerned_ and all _scared **for him**_ like he just _hadn't_ before, not even a little bit then, only _now_.

Now, after all of thirty years later and forty years gone, and everything else in-between, his own brother was lookin' up at him now, right here and now, _like that_ \--

\--Stan couldn’t do this. He just… _couldn’t_ do this. (He was an old man now, and he _just didn’t have the energy_ for any of this. Not all of this. No. Not anymore.)

So Stan twisted himself sideways and let gravity take him. He dropped himself down onto the bed at Ford’s side, and rolled himself over onto his back right there from sideways, ignoring the papers he was crumpling under him as he went, ~~ignoring Ford’s stupid too-late concern for anything at all to do with him, and just~~ ignoring _everything_ ~~stupid old broken shoulder with its ‘not a tattoo’ on it be damned for everything, should just keep on staying hidden like the damn stupid thing should have from the start and end of things, really, forever~~.

~~Last thing Stan had ever wanted to risk was Ford getting one good look at it sometime, and then getting a good look at Ford doing it. Because Stan hadn't wanted to know… he hadn't wanted to see, to risk seeing Ford maybe, just _maybe_ , looking on at it and _recognizing_ it and then looking at it _**smugly**_. Because Stan had been afraid that Ford would look on at that thing, that Stan had gotten -- that he’d had **branded** onto him _by_ Ford himself -- on the very worst day of his _life_... and Stan had been afraid that Ford would’ve maybe looked at it, and then him, and Stan would’ve seen him looking all _proud_ at how he'd finally gotten one over on his brother for once in a fight, if only for a little while that one day. Until Stan had pushed him all unthinking and not realizing into that portal, and then...~~

~~If Ford had ever looked at him like that again, over _that_ of all things...~~

~~But now… Stan couldn't even _think_ of his brother ever going off and doing… _that_ … not when he was reacting like _this_ to the thought of him… getting hurt like that, way back when -- when they'd been mad and _fighting_ with each other, even -- and...~~

~~The damn demon couldn't know his own brother better than he did, he just _couldn't_ \--~~

~~There was somethin' really wrong here, but Stan couldn't… he just couldn't...~~

(But Stan did eventually. He did. And once Stan had realized what it was that was wrong, much later, he’d cursed up a storm about it all.)

(Not in front of the kids or his brother _or_ his twin, but he did it. Because Ford had been _right_ , and the kid was--)

(He hated that he hadn’t caught it sooner. He hated that he'd let it go, when Ford had thought it was important, _known_ that it was so important. He should have listened to his brother. ...He should have said ‘damn it all’ and forced it out of the damn dragon-lady while she’d been there; she’d almost spilled the beans on the demon-kid more times than Stan could count in retrospect, _damn it_...)

"...Stan?" he heard come from his left quietly, almost wetly, because his brother was _still crying_ about something he’d done to him over thirty years ago, and _Stan_ had been the one to push him into the damn portal, not… this… this…

\--This was just so goddamn _wrong_.

"I don’t want to talk about this anymore," Stan told his brother rather bleakly, raising his hands to cover over his own face, under his stupid old-man glasses, ignoring the crinkling sounds coming from the papers beneath him all the while.

"I’m sorry," Ford whispered out at him again, and to this, all Stan could do was breathe; all Stan could give him back was silence. Not because he didn’t know how to forgive, but because… Stan had been angry. So angry. And he’d gotten into a fight with his brother. And he’d gotten hurt, yeah, but his brother had gotten _pushed into a freaking portal_ and lost thirty years of his _life_ for no damn good reason because of him next.

And Ford hadn't deserved that at all. No matter what.

’Sorry’ wasn’t even on the fucking table here. _Stan_ wasn’t the one who deserved an apology here -- when it came to what had happened with the portal, the stupid shoulder-burn shit didn’t even _rate_. The only reason he’d even thought of it now, was because of this whole stupid mess with the demon-kid, and Ford bringing it up with him _now_ , forcing him to talk about it _now_ , when he was so freaking tired he couldn't even think straight anymore, let alone see straight with his glasses on, and Ford--

"...I’m sorry, too," Stan tried out, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say to him, anyway? Making his brother cry all over again, damnit. Some brother he was, making his own brother cry.

And Stan felt Ford reaching for him, felt his brother’s fingers slowly, gently, tentatively, _barely_ take hold of the smallest bit of his left shirtsleeve, up near the shoulder -- _tentatively_ , like Ford was almost afraid to touch him. ~~Like Ford was expecting to take a hit for even attempting, for it. But that wasn’t what _Stan_ did, that was--~~

And Stan could still hear him crying, the way Ford’s breaths were going, all uneven and hitched and all shaky and junk like that.

And Stan sighed out almost a groan, face still covered by his hands. --This, _this_ was why he hadn't wanted to talk about it, ever. This. This right here.

Though… now Stan wasn't even sure anymore about what was happening with Ford. About what was happening right now. About what had happened back then. About _any_ of it. ~~...Was he _misremembering?_ Or was Ford…~~ Stan didn't even _know_ what to think anymore. All he knew was that he wanted to... what he wanted to do _right now_ was...

...he wanted to comfort his brother. ~~If his brother would even let him do it.~~ So Stan let out a breath, rolled back over onto his side to face him, and before Ford could pull away from him or do anything else about it, Stan brought his right hand up, grabbed up the hand that Ford had been using to hold onto him, and entwined his fingers in Ford’s. ~~And they fit.~~

Ford blinked at him a little, still wet-eyed and looking more than a little miserable, and he pulled inward on himself a bit, curling up into a little more of a ball. ...Ford also pulled in a little closer to _Stan_ as he did it.

Stan let his brother get resituated on the bed first. He waited. And then Stan shifted himself in a little closer next, putting his forehead next to Ford's. Closed his eyes and touched his brother, forehead to forehead, hand-in-hand.

~~They'd done stuff like this when Ford was really little, after a bad day when Ford had just gotten too upset to even speak about anything through his hiccuping breaths. But they'd stopped doing this sort of thing ages ago; Ford had grown out of it. He'd _hated_ it when Stan had tried to, still… He'd acted like Stan was _coddling_ him, babying him or making fun of him or something -- said-so and gotten _mad_ at him for it, told him to stop doing that, to stop treating like he was being so _weak_ \-- smacked his hands away from him, turned his back on him, tried to kick out, to kick him out of his part of the bunk-bed, to just _’get away’_ from him, to _’leave him alone’_ , and just...~~

He heard Ford's breath hitch when their foreheads touched, but instead of Ford jerking away or slapping at him like Stan had thought he ~~definitely would~~ might? Ford just shoved himself in a little closer instead, almost butting heads with him doing it, tucking his head under Stan's own as he practically curled up against Stan’s chest, in his arms.

Stan let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Because… Ford should've slapped him right there for doing it. Pushed him away, turned away, yelled at him for it; all the rest of it for doing this, what he was doin’ right here and now. But Ford didn't. ~~This wasn't just a thing Ford was letting him do because Ford felt so bad he wasn't gonna say 'no' to him, anymore, was it. This was… something else. Because, with the way Ford was acting now about burning him, which shouldn’t even rate… Something had _drastically_ changed with his brother at some point on the other side of that portal, and...~~

He heard Ford's voice, muffled into his neck almost, from under his chin, say, "I-- I didn't mean to hurt you, Stan. I didn't mean to-- to--" He felt his brother shudder. "I--"

"Ford, it ain’t about that," Stan told him tiredly. "I ain’t mad at you about that." Well, he _had_ been, kinda. But not anymore. And it had been more about what he’d thought Ford would think about the burn still being there, anyway. Not--

"It’s just that…" Stan began next, roughly, but then he trailed off as he realized something was up with his brother again. Because he felt his brother stop, literally go completely still for a moment, not even breathing. And then Stan heard his brother say something that confused him for a long freaking moment (because _what the hell?_ ), in absolute tones of a very different sort of horror as Ford said...

"I'd _never_ do _anything_ to the kids like that, you _have_ to know that--" Stan heard his brother say next, and what… oh. _Oh_. ...Oh _hell_ , it got even worse, and--

Stan just shoved his other arm up and slid his left hand under his brother's head. Ruffling his hair a little bit after he did that. (He had no idea how or where Ford had gotten the idea that…)

"-- _I know that_ , Ford. Hell," he told his scared, hurt, teary, and all too-tired brother, and weren't they just a pair of stupid old men laying right here, on a bed that was supposed to be meant for sleepin’ on, not _cryin’_ on, right now? "I know. Shh," he told his brother, who was starting to shake, starting to cry again, face screwed up in a terrified grimace of purely emotional _pain_. "I know you'd never do that to them, Ford. I know."

And as Stan said that, and kept on stroking his brother’s head, trying to calm him down again and get him up off of that ledge (what the hell, why would Ford think any of them would ever think that he would do that?), Stan kept his sigh to himself. Because yeah, Stan had read that part of the dragon-lady's rant from the transcript earlier, too. And Stan was slowly remembering it now. That ‘making more of them’ anchors thing, and all that. But Ford had to know better by now, right? The demon-kid had said he’d thought Ford would hurt the kids if he knew that they knew about Miz being a ‘Bill Cipher’ and _getting along_ with her, kinda -- just like the kid had thought, and kept on thinking, that Ford was liable to hurt the niblings at one point or another, with the whole agreement that Stan was trying to balance out between them all just then. But Stan and the niblings -- and Ford himself -- had proved the kid wrong twice on that already, and Stan and the kids had backed him up. None of them had ever really thought Ford _capable_ of even doing that. They’d talked that all out before; Ford _had_ to know that now, right?

Hell, did Ford really think that when she’d said that she thought Ford would try and make more, that any of them would actually fall for that baloney, and believe it? (Damnit. With the way Ford was actin’ all upset and scared over it still, it kind of looked like maybe his brother did. _Damnit_ , Ford...)

...Hell, now that he was thinkin’ about it, did the dragon-lady demon actually think that Ford would try to make more? Or had she just been screwing with Ford again on purpose by proxy, by telling Mabel _that_ , trying to convince their _niece_ that… Stan clenched his jaw a little.

The demon-kid getting it wrong was one thing, but Miz knew humans better than that. Miz _had_ to know better. Which meant Miz had brought it up on purpose to Mabel for some reason, and Mabel... Had Miz been setting them all up for this whole mess, and another Ford breakdown? Or trying to make that happen? ...Because it would've come up eventually, after Miz had told Mabel; Mabel would've brought it up with all of them at some point -- to Dipper or Stan if nobody else, and _maybe_ Ford wouldn't've heard it, but…

Had Miz been trying to make Stan and his brother fight over this thing? By bringing it up? By talking about the anchor, talking about his 'tattoo', to put the thought out there for someone else to pick up? ...Stan didn't think so, because if he’d read that thing right, Miz hadn’t started that one off; the Northwest girl had been the one to first bring it all up, during that whole conversation there. And when the dragon-lady got angry about stuff -- and she'd been angry about this, about his burn -- she almost never thought things through; Stan was pretty sure about _that_...

...so this was probably some kinda drive-by making a fight happen on the dragon-lady’s part, probably not something that Miz had sneakily planned out in advance to make sure it happened somehow.

As Stan let out a breath, and kept trying to calm down his brother, he felt frustrated in general. He didn’t get why Ford was acting this way about him getting hurt now, and he didn't really get why Miz had gotten angry about what had happened to him, either, getting burned like that. Ford was a freaking mystery, right here and now, and Miz… was actually easier to figure out than his own brother was, right now. Because yeah, Miz seemed to think that siblings shouldn't… what, fight with each other? But that wasn't how stuff actually worked, and she should've known that; she _had_ to know that. --She'd had sisters, she must've fought with 'em _sometimes_... And if she was mad about them fighting, she should've been more mad about Ford ending up through the portal, out of everything, not him -- because _that_ was _way_ worse.

And Stan didn't get why the kid had thought his sister wasn't lying over that one, either. Because for the kid, saying he didn’t think somebody was lying and leaving it all at that? That was practically a seal of approval right there. ...Unless when the kid had said 'accurate', he'd only been talking about the _transcript_ there, and not the 'not lying' stuff. ...Shit. Kid had talked about 'in' and 'on' the transcript, but not answered the 'on' question at all, and Stan hadn’t caught the demon-kid on it. He hadn’t thought of it then, but maybe the demon-kid hadn't actually seen what Miz was talking about because he _couldn't_ right now, to check it and know whether or not it was 'accurate'. 'To the very-best of his ability' was one thing, but if the kid didn't actually have the 'ability' to do that currently -- and he might not right now, because Stan was still holding on to all that weirdness, and he wasn’t so sure the kid was actually able to use ‘his eye’ or whatever like he usually did, when Stan was doing that...

(Much later the next morning, after several naps and more time and a chance to understand Miz’s twisty demon thought processes, it _finally_ occurred to Stan -- once he really thought about it again -- that… the dragon-lady had to have known that Ford hadn’t actually known anything about what the anchor _was_ when she’d first brought it up with Mabel that night. Miz had said ‘If Ford tried doing that’ after knowing about it, she’d go bonkers _then_. So… she _had_ been messing with them, at least a little. She’d _known_ Ford wouldn’t do that to the niblings, once he knew what the anchor actually was and how Stan had gotten it; that had been an ‘if’ there, not a ‘when’. That been some sort of test, with Mabel and Ford, like that stupid anime-showing thing had been a test and a show she’d tried to put on with Bill and him, too. ...And Stan was going to have a _hell_ of a lot to say to her about _this_ one, oh was he ever. He’d _told_ her not to mess with them, either of the niblings or Ford. _Especially_ Ford. --And what did she go out of her way to do next? _Hell_ , no. She wasn’t gonna get out of some serious penalty-consequences on _this_ one, _this_ time. Not this time. And it didn’t take Stan very long to think of the _perfect_ penalty for the dragon-lady demon for pulling this, either...)

Stan wanted to get up and stomp his way upstairs, all the way up to the attic, to wake the kid up and demand that the kid come downstairs and set the record straight on whatever those other dimensions and other-thems were that Miz had apparently Seen doing a bunch of bullshit stuff, that she’d been oh-so-happy to go off talking all about; Stan figured having the kid do that for him might actually help calm Ford down a hell of a lot faster than just letting him spin on the idea himself for all night. But _had_ the kid seen them too? Did the kid know what Miz had been talking about? ~~(He sure as hell hadn't said anything to _Stan_ about it, if he had.)~~ ...But it was late, there were too many things to think about, and Stan was too tired for all of this, and then some. He wasn't gonna get up and leave his brother alone to try and chase down the kid upstairs right now; he wasn't even sure if he was gonna be up for that tomorrow. And waking the kid up to talk at Ford wasn’t gonna go well; the kid got cranky at that kind of shit, and Stan knew it. Which meant that was out; that just wasn’t happening, because Stan wasn’t about to risk the demon-kid making things any worse when Ford was this upset and hurt like he was all right now...

So Stan let Ford curl in close to him as he cried. He eventually shoved his arm in more, giving up on trying to stroke Ford’s head, to instead wrap his arm around Ford's shoulder and pull him in close to get more of a hug going, instead. ...Damnit, he was too tired for this shit. Stan relaxed (with great effort) into the embrace, and resolved to get some sleep. Ford's tears were soaking into his shirt even as Stan's face remained dry, but at least he was crying _less_ than he had been before. Ford wasn’t actually doing that whole sobbing his heart out like everything was hurting and pain, anymore.

And eventually, Ford fell asleep in his arms, hand still held in Stan’s. And shortly after that, Stan, too tired to even think straight anymore long-since, finally let himself fall asleep too.

\---

Breakfast the next morning was somewhat subdued, likely because -- by some miracle of having enough self-preservation between the two of them, and at least one of them able to think far enough ahead that said demon had decided to scan everybody in the Shack first _before_ coming downstairs with his demonic sister, to know that Stanley was both sleep-deprived _and_ in a god-awful mood that morning -- the two demons had both decided to skip out on eating breakfast with the rest of them in the kitchen that day.

Ford was grateful for this chance to compose himself.

Stan, on the other hand, was still trying to get his bearings with his brother again, after last night.

Ford kept sending him looks all morning long, and Stan was ignoring him. Mostly. Kind of. Because Stan didn’t want to talk about it any more than they already had. Not one bit. (Hell, if he'd known his brother was gonna react that way to it, he would have ripped that part outta the transcript himself. He hadn’t known Ford would actually… y'know, give a damn about it. Not in a _freaking out_ on him kinda way. The very first damn thing Ford had asked about that anchor before everything had gone over ten kinds of wrong had been if Stan knew if it’d burn him if they did the circle, and Ford had been pale as anything when he’d asked it. Which, y’know, Stan hadn’t exactly been expecting. Ford had been okay with pulling the trigger on him before when they’d needed to do it; so he should’ve been fine with doin’ it again this time too, right? Not like Stan wouldn't be okay with burning _inside_ some fire again, if they had to get rid of the demon again and that was the only way that they could do it. He'd already burned away inside his own mind once; if this circle-thing would actually work, if shit came down to it, then...)

(Stan wasn't stupid, though. He knew that the circle-thing wouldn't actually work, even if they did manage to find a way to pull it off without the demon-kid stopping them first, at some point or another. Kid hadn't been worried about the circle _before_ when they'd all been together in that Fearamid-thing of his, and the kid still wasn't worried about it now. Before, while the deal with Ford was still on, _maybe_ the kid might've been fooling himself at least a little bit on whether or not 'his friend Ford' would actually follow through on it or not, but _now?_ Ford's deal was off, and the kid knew damn well where Stan's line was on all of this shit, now -- he knew damn well that Stan was willing and going to _try_ to take him out again the second he messed with his family again, the very _second_ that he did it. And that meant, for all the reasons Stan had gone through with his brother before, that...)

Stan blew out a grumbling breath and scratched at his cheek. ...Hell. If Ford had just tracked down those lousy cultists that first week like he'd told him to, like he'd said he was gonna…

...No. Stan didn't want to get into that with his brother right now again, either. Dredging up all this stupid shit that nobody would do anything about; how was that supposed to help any one of them even a little bit right now, huh? --The thing was, it didn't.

Stan glanced back at the niblings, over his shoulder. ...Yeah, they'd picked up on the stress coming from Ford this morning, but Ford had washed up pretty well before breakfast. The bags under his bleary eyes and the bleariness itself both looked like they were from lack of sleep, not crying. It looked like the kids thought that that, and the overall stress, were just from the whole half-a-fight Ford and Bill had had with each other again yesterday. At least, Stan figured that was what they thought it was, since they both just munched down on some cereal quickly, gave Ford some hugs, and left it at that, headinng out into the Shack’s gift shop to give ‘em some space for the day after tossing Stan a twin pair of ‘take care of him’ looks.

For his part, Ford kept avoiding Stan’s gaze while he was lookin’, and sending him some real down looks when he thought Stan wasn’t. They hadn't talked yet this morning, after that talk, and then that ‘talk’, that they’d had last night with each other. (Not really; not beyond Stan asking him if he wanted eggs or Stancakes for breakfast that day, and Ford telling him ‘eggs’.) And Stan was a’okay with that. He was all for just ignoring the whole thing with the crying, pretending that it didn't happen. (--Because if doin’ _that_ kept Ford from feelin’ like he had to do a 180 on him, tryin’ to ‘get back his own’ later, now that he wasn’t feeling so low on him anymore… well, that would be fine with Stan. He didn’t exactly feel like getting into another fight with his brother again that morning. He just wanted to finish cooking their eggs, get something into his and his brother’s stomachs… and then maybe go back to bed again for awhile. ...Hey, he was an old man now, all retired and everything. He was allowed to just sleep if he wanted to!)

Stan flipped some eggs on the pan, listening to the way it sizzled and twitched. And then he blinked as he had to stifle a shiver, and tell himself... No, it wasn't the same. The sound was all different, again and still. That panel had been more of a hiss than anything else...

...and Stan grimaced, because he hadn’t thought about that shit in years. He hadn’t thought he’d ever think of it again, after he’d stopped having dreams about--

Stan shook it off, poker face firmly on, and continued making their breakfast. But when he glanced over at the counter as he reached for the salt and pepper, he saw a small folded piece of paper tucked between the shakers on the counter there. Stan casually caught it up between his fingers as he grabbed the salt shaker, and after salting the eggs (not pepper, Ford didn’t like pepper on his; that could wait) and returning the shaker to where he’d picked it up from, he pocketed the note and went back to focusing on his cooking. No reason to cause trouble before either of them were ready for it; he’d save it for later, once he was done cooking and eating and gotten some food into both him and his brother.

After finishing up the eggs and serving it out onto two dishes that he set out on the table for them both, Stan sat down in his chair with a groan and picked up his fork.

And Stan took his time eating. He waited until his brother was finished eating before he let himself finish up (which he knew Ford had noticed, given the side-eye looks he was getting, annd how Ford kept slowing down, and slowing down again, almost like he was testing him, until he let out a sigh and stopped trying to only eat one bite every minute and a half on him). Then, and only then, did Stan put down his newspaper, take his last forkful of food off of his plate, and then set down his fork to shove a hand in his pocket, to extract, unfold, and then grumpily opened up the note that he’d grabbed up before in order to read it.

And that note read: [Miz wants me to write to you that we are going out to the lake this morning. Miz ate all the fish yesterday. We will bring back enough fish to replace the ones that she ate. We will be back before it’s time for dinner today. We plan to eat lunch today when it is time for lunch.]

...yeah, probably a good call, getting out of the Shack for a few hours. Stan wasn't in the mood to deal with either of them right now; now Stan was sure that the kid had picked up on that all the way from upstairs today -- the kid was getting better at that, figuring that one out. Stan had mixed feelings about that one, though. The kid avoiding him on-purpose when he was in a shitty mood was okay for now _today_ maybe, sure, but… Stan remembered what had happened with Miz, every time _she’d_ not come to him for something, over in that other dimension, and again and still here. If the demon-kid started avoiding him for one reason or another… Hell. Even letting it slide that the kid had avoided him today instead of talking to him in-person _this_ time was already setting a dangerous precedent. As much as Stan really did _not_ want to talk to the kid this morning, after what had happened with his brother here last night, that kinda ‘avoidance’ shit would lead pretty quickly to the kid not talking to him about stuff _at all_ , and then not too long after _that_ \--

"Is… something wrong?" Ford asked him quietly, almost under his breath, and that was when Stan realized he was frowning.

Stan smoothed the frown off of his face and answered his brother with a grunt. "It’s nothin’," he told his brother, as he crumpled up the paper in his fist.

"I…" Ford began then trailed, off looking away. He seemed almost subdued that morning.

Stan let out a sigh. "Kid left a note for me instead of talking to me straight to my face," he told his brother. "I coulda missed it." If he’d gone for pancakes instead of eggs, he wouldn’t have needed the salt. "...Gonna have to bring it up with him and his sister when he’s back for dinner," Stan grumbled out. "Don’t think hiding it between the salt-shakers was his idea."

"Oh," Ford said quietly, still not looking up at him. Stan watched as Ford looked down at his clean plate and his dirty fork. "What did it say."

Stan didn’t exactly didn’t like how his brother still wasn’t really looking at him. Not getting in a fight with him over the kid was one thing, but this was...

Stan pulled a bit of a face and scratched at his cheek. "Kid’s out someplace or another with Miz for the day. They’ll be back for dinner." Stan frowned as he thought over what the demon-kid had actually wrote. "Didn’t say straight-out where he was taking her, or where they were gonna be. Not sure if he was bein’ shifty about it on purpose ‘cause he doesn’t want to get followed, or if he’s just tryin’ not to end up lyin’ to me about it later if Miz goes off and gets distracted on the way over there."

Ford’s shoulders went tense for a few long moments, almost like he was about to build up to something for a second there, but then his shoulders slumped back down. "Ah." was all Ford ended up saying, as he continued staring down at his plate. And then finally got up from the table… to pick up his plate and head for the sink with it. Still not looking up or over at him.

Stan watched as Ford set his dishes in the sink, and he wasn’t really sure if Ford was giving him the silent treatment here, or what. But Ford usually liked more ‘information’ on junk, and the kid was acting different here, so… Stan set his elbows on the table and talked a little more about it, out loud. (Hey, it beat talking about last night instead, right?)

"Don’t think it was the kid’s idea to leave a note instead of talking to me," Stan told his brother -- because, thinking about it a little more, the kid was usually a hell of a lot more straightforward than that. I ain’t really in the mood to be puttin’ up with any of that punk kid’s crap today," Stan said, and tried not to change his expression as Ford turned around -- gaze down, still avoiding his eyes, and picked up his own plate and fork, before turning back towards the sink. "But that hasn’t stopped the kid before now. And it’s better to have the kid talking to me than not talking to me at all." Stan stopped there for a second, to see what Ford had to say about that.

Ford, for his part, remained silent. The only sounds in the Shack right now were the water in the sink going, as Ford acted like a mute guy washing dishes, and the low sounds of the Mystery Shack being open for business, with customers over in the other part of it there. (Hell, he wasn’t exactly tryin’ to get a rise out of his brother here, but Ford…)

"So, yeah. Probably Miz’s idea there," Stan put out there next, trying not to feel all that uncomfortable about being the only one of the two of them talking, here. "Kid started the note with a ‘Miz wanted me to’ there. Figure that’s a pretty big clue." Stan ate another bite of eggs, and thought about that one a bit more. And then he realized… "Hell. Kid doesn’t tell me half the time when he goes out as it is." Stan frowned as he shoved the paper back in his pocket, and ran a hand over his face. "So having a note is better than him just up and vanishing on me without sayin’ anything, I guess…"

"Is it?" Ford said quietly, as he finished up the dishes, and turned the water off at the sink, and Stan couldn’t help but frown at how he couldn’t even tell if that was more of a statement, or a comment. It sure as hell hadn’t been a question, though.

"...Dunno," Stan ended up telling him. "Miz don’t usually ask for help on stuff, but she’s better at human stuff still. Like leavin’ notes tellin’ people like me where they’re goin’," because that was the kinda thing she’d probably been told to do for the folks she was living with (her parents and family?), back when that dragon lady was still human. "Don’t know why she’d tell that demon-kid to do it, instead of writing it herself, though." Wasn’t like she couldn’t have done that, instead. "Seems kinda sketchy." Stan paused, then added, "Is writin’ notes a thing you’d expect outta Bill Cipher."

There was a bit of a pause, as Ford wiped his hands with a towel where he was standing at the sink.

"No," Ford said, still not looking at him, just down at the towel as he finished drying off his hands and set it back down on the countertop. "He’d have no real control over the information at that point, who saw it or had access to it later."

"Yeah," Stan agreed, leaning back in his chair. "Sounds about right for the kid, there. Don’t think he’d even think of doing it himself, either." For someone to leave a note implied that they thought someone would worry if they didn't know where they went, like a parent. (He and Ford would tell their Ma whenever they left the house to play when they were younger, but not once they hit their teenaged years half the time, and Stan couldn’t think of anybody else that he himself would have ever thought of leaving a note for, after that. Not that he’d ever left _notes_ before leaving, for any of those times before that. Kid was a little like him like that, too. Because usually, if the kid was gonna tell him something, he'd straight up _tell him that thinng_. Y'know, _verbally_ , like the kid usually did if he thought Stan wanted to know something and the kid didn't mind telling him -- read: if he didn't care that Stan knew.)

Stan also knew how the kid felt about leaving information just lying around, and how the kid felt about telling people his plans when he thought there might even be a chance of them going out and stopping him if they knew what they were. (Kid had ranted about this kinda junk to him at length before now, multiple times even.) He didn’t think either he or Ford was that far off on that one, which meant... "Wonder how she talked him into it," Stan mused, leaning back in his chair.

Ford didn’t respond.

Stan stifled a sigh, then looked away and scratched at his cheek. "Woulda figured the kid would be all over her for ‘operational security’, and all that, not the other way around." And _that_ got him a frown and a--

"--What?"

\--from his brother, finally. And to this, Stan let out another sigh and crossed his arms. "Don’t think Miz would think far enough ahead to think that somebody might use knowin’ where they were against ‘em. Like watchin’ ‘em, or setting up an ambush or an attack; somethin’ like that." Ford was looking up and over at him now. "It’s how the kid thinks. Probably why he put it as a ‘Miz told me to tell you that’, and not a ‘we’re gonna be at’ kinda thing."

When Ford continued staring at him evenly, not exactly contributing or really seeming to do anything other than that -- like he was tryin’ not to express an _opinion_ at him, almost -- Stan… well, he probably shouldn’t feel a little better at his brother actually just _looking_ at him, but he did. Because he was finally looking to be leaving at least some of that funk behind now that he’d been in all morning.

Stan shrugged at Ford. "Not like I can’t decipher the kid’s twistier Cipher-speak stuff, too," he noted at his brother. "I know writin’ what he did the way he did it isn't actually 'promising' that he’s gonna go off and do that thing any." Because all it said was that Miz wanted him to write that, not that that was what they were doing, or even planning on doing. "Only two things the kid really promised there was that they’re gonna be bringing back more fish from _someplace_ , ‘cause Miz ate a bunch, and that they're gonna be back before dinner."

"And you aren’t worried about wherever the two of them are going," Ford said next, just as statement-comment as he had about the ‘is it’ before.

"Not if the kid stays outta trouble, doesn’t go bringin’ any of that trouble back to _us_ , and doesn’t go talking to any other demons doing it," Stan reminded him with a shrug. Because Stan didn't really care what the kid got up to, so long as he kept following the agreement like that and didn't cross his line; not really. "Wonder how many plans he came up with this time, tryin’ to make sure that nobody and their dog with a laser cannon could try to" (successfully) "ambush either of ‘em out there wherever they are for the next couple a’ hours." Because if there was one thing that they’d nailed down, it was where they _weren’t_ going to be for the next couple of hours, and for how long, along with when they were going to be back.

Ford made something of a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, almost. Hell, Stan wasn’t really sure if it was actually a noise, or if he’d just been clearing his throat, or somethin’.

"I’m betting at least twenty plans there. What d’you think?" Stan tried, trying to get his brother into it a little more. Whether those would be _good_ and ‘useful’ plans was another thing entirely, Stan thought with a bit of an internal mental smirk. Because _that_ was assuming that the kid even had a good idea of where they were going. Wasn’t like Miz wouldn’t maybe run the ‘risk’ of getting distracted by something on the way there, or bored once she was there and wanting to go someplace else. She’d sure done more than enough of that since she’d been there; their trips to town had been pretty _’interesting’_ in that respect, and while Stan had kept them on-target for the diner, the kid didn’t seem all that willing to try and corral his sister into doing certain stuff and not others. ...Kinda a pushover, really. At least on some things...

"Somehow, I doubt Bill will be able to plan effectively for the man-eater wanting to stop and taste every flower," was Ford’s mild-toned contribution to the subject, and Stan couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

"Yeah," Stan said, starting to feel a little more relaxed. "I was kinda thinkin’ that, too." He watched his brother for awhile where he was standing, arms-crossed, head tilted slightly downwards, leaning back slightly against the kitchen table, facing the sink again more than him now.

Stan could’ve sworn Ford had his eyes closed, though.

"...Y’know," Stan said, putting it out there, because he kind of couldn’t _not_ at this point, "You usually ain’t this quiet about anything, ever." Because Ford _wasn’t_. He was used to his brother having… almost a _presence_ these days. Just… energy, living under his skin. Even if Ford had been kinda almost relaxed on the boat when they’d been out on the sea together, sometimes, he’d still been really really **there** , kind of and always.

But Ford sure as hell wasn’t relaxed right _now_ , even if he wasn’t exactly all _tense_ where he was standin’, either. And Ford wasn’t exactly **there** there, either; if he’d been a lamp that was always on and shining, just not always in your _direction_ and right in your eyes, what Ford was doin’ right now was the obviously way-too-turned-down dim setting, low lit and almost but not really off. Stan didn’t really know how else to put it; even when Ford had been tired the last few days, maybe only two or three steps from _exhausted_ , he was still either blazing about as hard as he still could, or out like a light in his own bed. Ford usually didn’t do a hell of a lot of in-betweens, here.

Ford looked away from him again, more a shifting of his eyes away from anything like his direction than anything.

"I’m tired, Stan," he said quietly.

"You were tired yesterday, too," Stan pointed out. "And the day before that. And--"

"I’m tired of fighting with you," was what Ford said next, just as quietly, and it left Stan at almost a loss for words. "I don’t want to fight with you anymore, again."

Stan frowned a little bit. "Don’t mean you gotta walk around on eggshells with me," Stan noted, "Or whatever the heck it is that you’re doin’ to me here, right now." Stan shifted in his chair a little uncomfortably. "Don’t really feel like talkin’ when it feels like I’m mostly just talkin’ to myself."

Ford sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "I… don’t know how to act around you right now. What would set you off, what would set _me_ off." And now he _sounded_ exhausted. "I just… don’t…" (Hell. And now he _looked_ exhausted, too.) "I don’t want to fight with you anymore," Ford repeated.

Stan felt more than a little uncertain at this. He didn’t know why, exactly, but he wasn’t liking this at _all_. It felt… really wrong to him, somehow.

"...What’s all that different between yesterday and today?" Stan asked him slowly. Because it wasn’t like they hadn’t been going at it with each other on and off before now, annd been all okay about it. Mostly.

"Stan," Ford grimaced. "I… I _hurt_ you."

It took Stan a moment, because when had Ford...? Then Stan blinked. "What, the…" he raised and lowered his right shoulder a bit, and saw Ford grimace a bit again. "So? We were both beatin’ on each other pretty bad that day." He saw that Ford wasn’t backing down on this for some reason, but he just wasn’t getting it.

"Stan, I _hurt_ you." Ford repeated.

Shit. Stan didn't want to say it and give Ford the reason to yell at him over it, but the way things were going right now…

"And I pushed you into a portal," Stan told him simply. "You lost thirty years of your life on the other side of that thing. That’s--" Stan clenched his hands in his lap. "That’s way worse than some stupid burn."

Ford twitched, because-- the thought had not even occurred to him, that Stan might think that… that…

...that _what?_ "It’s not…" Ford stopped, then opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right words to say. The right words to made Stan understand. ...Could he even find the words to express what he wanted to say?

"You didn’t deserve that," was what Ford finally settled on, and it felt like almost a stab underneath his heart when Stan said back to him next, "You didn’t deserve _that_."

"Stan…" Ford hugged his arms around his own chest a little tighter, because that _hurt_.

"Look," Stan told him. "I don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to fight over it any more than you do," _apparently_ , not that Stan had exactly been expecting that one there really, at all, not in a million years and counting. Stan took a deep breath. "So let’s just not talk about it. Okay? It happened, it’s done. It’s over with now. ...Right?"

Ford mentally cursed his own failure to communicate. He didn’t know how to make Stan understand this, any more than he knew how to make him understand _that Stan wasn’t like Bill_ , either. It… it wasn’t about what either of them had deserved at the hands of the other; it was the fact that Ford had hurt him at all to begin with, and…

...and Ford had a growing sick feeling in his stomach, as he looked down at his brother and realized that maybe Stan had thought that he had deserved it, what had happened to him, at least a little bit. ~~...just as Ford felt that perhaps he had deserved at least some of what had happened to him due to his sheer and utter blindness before, his utter foolishness in having ever trusted Bill Cipher, and--~~ It occurred to him to think so, because of what Stan had contested with him before, and more importantly what he _hadn’t_. Last night, Stan hadn’t contested whether or not he had deserved it, what had happened -- _what Ford had **done** to him that day_ \-- or whether Ford should have ever even done it to him or not. ...No, Stan had only contested the _facts_ of the situation as it had happened. Not the feelings, nor the intent; not really. He’d hadn’t been angry about the event itself; he’d only professed anger at the idea of Ford _lying to him_ about it.

And Ford was slowly beginning to understand only now, just how terrible Stan’s own thoughts of himself might have been, and might _still_ be, both then and now. From the way Stan had believed their parents wouldn’t have allowed him to return home after being kicked out, to not wanting to speak out when Stan had known -- absolutely _known_ \-- that there had been something utterly wrong with his science fair project to begin with; even when _knowing_ how being blamed for that device having been broken in any respect -- and the consequences that had come after that -- would be anything but fair to him in any respect, Stan hadn’t wanted to talk about it, hadn’t objected, hadn’t even _tried_ to object to him or Pa or Ma about it -- about _any_ of it, really. Stan _still_ hadn’t wanted to talk about it, even after everything had come to a head with those other, younger, and still somehow different versions of them in that other dimension, and...

...Ford was now remembering how Stan had almost constantly put himself down on the boat, what Stan could do and had done for them both without mention or complaint on the boat, time and time again, not even seeming to be expecting any thanks or recognition. And he’d kept on doing it, doggedly continuing to take care of all sorts of things that Ford had never even thought of as if it was expected of him, silently doing so up until Ford had noticed it and commented upon it himself from time to time, and then... at the time, Ford had thought Stan had been trying to downplay his own work, or that the way he’d been saying it had somehow been a failed and awkward attempt at being modest -- at least, that was what he’d thought of it before, but now... Perhaps Ford was misunderstanding him entirely ~~and he desperately hoped so, that he was misunderstanding Stanley here somehow~~ , but… was Stan truly rating his own pain and work and feelings as somehow less important than _Ford’s own?_ As so unimportant when compared to Ford’s own experiences that they didn’t even bear mention?? As if they were of no consequence whatsoever? It was almost as if Stan somehow thought that-- that--

\--it was as if Stan thought that he didn’t deserve--

\--it was as if Stan thought that no one _cared_ \--

\--but that wasn’t right either. That simply _couldn’t_ be right, either, could it? Stan _had_ to know that he cared about him, that Dipper and Mabel cared about him, too-- so _why?_ Why did Stan seem to think so lowly of himself in this regard?

"Stan." Ford said slowly, feeling like crying again for some reason -- perhaps in frustration -- but at least managing to not break down in front of his brother yet again _this_ time. "You are... important." He winced even as he said it. It felt clunky and unbalanced, certainly inadequate to properly convey how he felt upon this _very_ important matter. "I-- I _shouldn’t_ have… I shouldn’t have hurt you like that, with that panel, back then." He barely managed to get it out without stuttering, at the hurt he felt in the center of his chest to say it -- to even _have_ to say it, at all.

"I don’t want to talk about it, okay," was what Stan said next, almost grumpily, looking away from him.

...And then Ford got it. He truly… _understood_. Finally.

"You don’t forgive me for it, do you." Ford swallowed hard as he stared at his brother -- arms crossed, not looking at him -- and realized, with a remote and growing sense of horror… "You’re never going to forgive me for it."

"Goddammit, Ford," his brother said harshly, looking up at him. "I _said_ I don’t--" But then, for some reason, Stan stopped talking as he looked up at him. (Stan stopped because he realized his brother was pale as a sheet, and looking at him wide-eyed and _scared_ , even more scared than he had the night before on no sleep and all…)

"...Ford," Stan said slowly. He felt a little like he was on thin ice in not cold enough weather here now, and he wasn’t sure which way the ice was gonna crack if he wasn’t real careful here, either. "What are you thinkin’ right now..." Because _whatever_ it was, it sure as hell hadn’t been what Stan had been thinkin’ he thought, right here and now. (This was starting to feel like last night, all over again.) (Dammit, he knew his brother! He did-- this wasn’t--)

"I…" Ford didn’t know how to explain any more than he already had. What he was trying to say. It felt like there was suddenly an impossible gulf between them, and--

Ford blinked, and he tensed, as Stan slowly got up from his chair at the table. And shoved it in, almost thoughtlessly. And slowly walked over, to stand right in front of him.

"Stan, I…" Ford tried to get out next, but then he felt nothing but absolute _shock_ , as Stan moved forward--

...and Ford felt Stan’s arms encircle him in a hug.

Ford felt all the breath in his lungs leave him.

(Not because Stan was _squeezing_ him that hard, but because…)

And then Ford started to shake. And his arms and hands were shaking as he began to raise them up behind Stan’s back, he could feel it, just as he could feel his face screw up into a horrible teeth-clenched grimace against his control, as he started to feel tears fall all over again -- and _Stan was going to hate him for this_ \-- because he just _couldn’t_ be--

\--Stan _already_ hated him for this, and there was nothing he could do about that --

\--Ford wrapped his arms around his twin brother and buried his face into the crook of his shoulder, standing up.

"Don’t know what the hell to say to you without it bein’ all wrong here, Ford," he heard Stan tell him quietly, as he held him. ~~(And Ford didn’t understand why Stan was _letting_ him do this, why he hadn’t practically sneered at him for crying again now, for crying like a little kid _before_ , for--)~~ "I don’t like you feelin’ down about any of this junk, though. Almost wish you were just angry at me like you should be, instead," he heard his brother say next, "Just gimmie a good punch or two and get it all over with," and all Ford could think of to do at those words was to clutch Stan tighter and shake his head back and forth at his shoulder ~~while Stan inexplicably continued to _let him do this **without** complaint_~~.

"I don’t want to _punch_ you, Stan," Ford choked out, rather horrified at the thought. And at this point, his emotions were thoroughly a mess.

"Then what _do_ ya want? More hugs?" Stan said, almost half-jokingly, except… Ford kinda hugged him tighter right away after he said it. "What, seriously?"

"Yes," Stan heard his brother say hoarsely, but kinda firmly, too, and that was...

"Oh," Ford heard his brother say, sounding a little… blown away by this, somehow. Like he hadn’t been expecting… "Uh. Okay. I, uh..." There was a pause, as Stan… seemed to be processing this? And then…

"I can do that," Stan told him, and Ford felt Stan’s arms encircle him a bit more… more… And Ford shivered because _Stan was_ \--

\--Stan was encircling him something that was far more of a hug than he’d ever received yet from him, and at the idea of hugging Ford _more_... Stan had sounded almost _hopeful_ about it.

It left Ford at an utter loss. Because the brother _he_ remembered hadn’t wanted any hugs or touching or closeness, not since they’d hit their teenage years and he’d suddenly started liking girls.

...Just as Ford had remembered letting go, instead of pushing his brother into that panel even _harder?_

And it hurt, that maybe he’d simply completely misunderstood his brother back then, for all of those years, so many years ago. That there had been yet another social or contextual clue that he just hadn’t been seeing, that he’d been missing, and that Stan himself had, perhaps, been missing all the closeness and twinness and hugs for so very long as Ford had been, feeling just and exactly as _cut off_ from his twin, abandoned, lost, and alone--

\--feeling, and knowing in feeling it for absolute certain, that his twin no longer loved him anymore, didn’t care, didn’t care about him, and starting to wonder if he ever really had--

\--it was startlingly and heat-wrenchingly obvious to Ford now that Stan had thought Ford no longer loved him, just as Ford had thought of Stan in return. But while Ford had begun to think that things could be mended between them at the end of Weirdmageddon, at Stan and his willingness to sacrifice himself to… to… and then after Mabel and her scrapbook gave him that second chance to make things right with his brother...

...somehow, Stanley had not come to believe the same thing. He still thought Ford cared for him _not at all_. It had been clear to Ford during Weirdmageddon that Stan must still care about him at least somewhat, given the fact that Stan had come along on that rescue mission to get him, with the niblings and all the others, but Stan...

...It boggled Ford’s mind, and hurt his heart, the thought that even after sailing together for almost a year, working together and watching each other’s backs, cohabitating in a way they hadn’t in decades, and all the rest of it, that Stan would still believe after all that that Ford didn’t care about him still?

Ford didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand it. All he knew was that it was horribly wrong, and that it _hurt_ , and he didn’t know how to fix it.

So he stood there (and Stan stood there), and they both kept on hugging each other there instead.

And those two old men kept on standing there, leaning on each other and hugging each other in dire confusion, oh so very confused about anything and everything to do with their sibling. Something was wrong here with their other sibling, and had been wrong for a lot longer than either of them had realized; they were both beginning to realize this now. But neither of them wanted to talk about it, the things that had been hurting them -- and why would they even want to do that, again? It didn’t make sense to either of them to do that to each other; not when all either of them wanted to do was to hold each other close in a way they hadn’t thought they’d still be allowed to do with each other again anymore, not for a very long time.

So they didn’t try to talk. They just thought of Mabel ~~almost desperately~~ , and tried to hug it all out with each other, instead.

...Because why rock the boat, when they were both getting what they’d wanted for a very long time? Why question it that much? Why do that, when the risk of doing that might mean hurting their twin sibling enough that they might lose them, all over again? Because neither of them wanted to risk that; neither of them wanted to risk now losing even so much as the resemblance of this long-lost closeness, again.

(And because neither of them wanted to risk that…)

\---

The two old men ended up on the couch -- Stan’s old recliner -- for the rest of the day, almost. Stan put something on the TV for an excuse for it, but it was just an excuse for the two of them; they were both just sitting there, leaning up against each other, dozing off both together and separately at times -- they were tired. (Emotionally exhausted really, the two of them.)

And while Mabel might have gotten a few pictures of the two of them when Melody came in with them to help her and Dipper make lunch, they didn’t wake up then to that, and they didn’t wake up when they left for the gift shop again, either.

\---

The demons _did_ return to the Shack before dinner. Stan had cooled down enough (a hell of a lot more mellow, and in a _much_ better mood now, after all the hugging with his twin brother that had been going on again that day) that he didn’t immediately smack Miz down for her ‘anchor the niblings’ things from the night before (that had led to his earlier fight with Ford and then Ford crying himself to sleep later that night). He also didn’t immediately confront the demon-kid directly about letting Miz talk him into doing things that the demon-kid didn’t normally do, and usually thought was a really bad idea _to_ do on top of that. But Stan was still unhappy with the pair of them, and he let them know that when they showed up for dinner, with a, "You two are getting a couple a’ learning-lessons for the shit you two have pulled lately. Gonna have a penalty for Miz too, for messin’ with Ford by proxy -- don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doin’ there, dragon-lady." Stan eyed her.

And Miz had nodded, grimacing. "Yeah…" She looked a little guilty, but not enough.

Bill looked between them, not quite slit-eyed but a great deal suspicious, and said, "I have some say in the penalty-lesson."

"Yeah," said Stan. "You do. We talked about that. You can veto until you don’t." In plain english: if the demon-kid thought something was going to hurt her, he’d veto it, and Stan would come up with something else instead, as many times as it took until the kid agreed with him on one of them. "You got anything to say in your defense?" Stan asked of the dragon-lady next, in descending tones.

"There…" Miz worried her bottom lip for a bit. "There were things that… you’re all too stubborn to talk about unless something happened to force the issue… and I know it wasn’t… very nice…" She grimaced before glancing over at Ford briefly. "Well. I was frustrated." She admitted.

"I don’t _care_ if you’re frustrated," Stan told her straight out. "People _aren’t_ your pawns or puppets." Demon-speak again for that one (and he had to ignore his brother’s visible shudder), because apparently she was bein’ all demon-thought-y on this one here for all that right now, damn it. "Don’t mess with my brother. I ain’t telling you again. You hearin’ me?" (Yeah. _That_ one got the demon-kid’s attention. ...Miz, on the other hand...)

"I have so many things I wanted to say, but no idea how to go about it." Miz frowned at Stan. "And some of which I can’t… really, even know how to say, and--"

"-- _Stop_ ," Bill said to his sister, cutting her off. "You’re digging. ...Below China," he added, after eyeing Stan once-over.

Miz sighed, rubbing her face. Then she raised a hand and pointed at Ford. "That Stanford loves you. And you…" she twitched, "...l-love him too," her words stuttering there for a moment. "So…"

"Uh," said Stan, feeling _incredibly_ uncomfortable now. (He took a chance and glanced over at Ford. ...Yeah, he looked kinda shocked and a little uncomfortable at what the demon-lady was tellin’ them, too.)

"So things should turn out alright." Miz managed out. She relaxed then. "I don’t like him." She said, still pointing at Ford. "But he loves you. So… I guess he’s not bad."

Stan blinked at the dragon-lady over this one. Because _what?_

But when he glanced over at Ford this time, he had to stop and stare because… Ford was _blushing_ slightly, looking away from all of them -- himself, the kids, and the demons included. And he was scrubbing a hand through the hair at the side of his head, straight up looking kinda… _embarrassed?_ At something the _dragon lady_ had said? What the--

"Well… well, of course I love him," Ford told them all, in almost muted tones, with a huff of breath out at the end of it. It felt _incredibly_ odd to say-so out loud, and he felt quite stupid in doing so, but… really, what was the man-eater trying to imply in saying such a thing to them all, Ford truly didn’t know -- was she actually trying to imply that he felt otherwise? He felt almost angry at the thought -- because did she _really_ feel that it was _possible_ that he felt otherwise? Stan misunderstanding him because of… well, because of _events_ and Ford’s own inability to express himself properly was one thing, but... Ford _certainly_ wasn’t so contrary as to reject anything and everything she said every time the man-eater said something -- certainly not when it was actually _true_ \-- certainly not when it was so important that Stan realize the truth of it all himself at some point. Ford wasn’t _about_ to say otherwise in front of Stan, or to anyone else. And the way she’d _paused_ there was truly beyond the pale, because-- "And I know Stan feels the same way about me, as well," Ford huffed out at the man-eater next.

A soft smile grew on Miz’s face. "I’m glad you admitted it." Ford flicked his gaze over to her, frowning. And when he saw Miz absolutely _beaming_ at him, Ford twitched just looking at it. Dipper and Mabel were glancing back and forth between the two of them. Because Miz and Ford weren’t… fighting. And it didn’t… _seem_ like Miz was trying to bully Ford. But they didn’t quite understand what was going on either.

"Well, _of course_ Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford love each other, silly," Mabel told Miz firmly. "They don’t need to say it all the time. Grunkle Stan has real trouble with saying that to people, you know!"

("I’m aware," Ford said quietly -- so quietly that Stan was pretty sure that Ford wasn’t actually trying to say it to the dragon-lady herself. "You show it in other ways..." Ford said next, and Stan glanced away uncomfortably, because the way Ford was looking at him was…)

Miz nodded at Mabel, still smiling. "I know. Well, I wasn’t sure at first, but I know _now_ , figured it out for sure a while ago. I just wanted him to admit it aloud. Even if it doesn’t _need_ to be said, it’s nice when it is."

And then Miz turned away from Ford, practically skipping over to the stove to begin making a quick meal for her brother, seeming much more at ease and happy with them now then she had been for weeks. Dipper and Mabel exchanged looks and then turned to stare at their grunkle Ford, Dipper had a frown as he tried to figure out why Miz was so much happier after hearing Great-Uncle Ford say those words.

Stan was just feeling downright confused at all this. He felt his shoulders come up slightly.

"...Don’t know why we’ve gotta be talkin’ about all sorts’a emotions and junk," Stan said, still feeling more than a little uneasy about all of this. (He couldn’t exactly help how he felt the urge to flick his eyes around the room, scanning it for all the nearest exits -- old habits died hard, or whatever.) Kids didn’t need him to say it out loud; he didn’t know why it was such a thing about sayin’ it out loud to each other, right now. Wasn’t really all that normal to do that, was it? Goin’ around, just sayin’ ‘I love you’ like that. It made it seem more like a lie, than anything real, if you had to just come out and say it, out straight like that...

Stan felt Ford nudge his shoulder slightly… no, wasn’t just a nudge; Ford was leaning up against him a little bit, lightly. And Stan felt himself ~~blush a little bit himself and~~ slowly start to relax...

"It’s… it’s fine. Isn’t it?" Ford asked him quietly, as Miz took over the stove for a hot minute, and Stan struggled with what he should even _say_ to that.

"...Yeah," Stan finally told him next. "It’s fine."

But Stan was really starting to wonder, now, when he was finally gonna start to wake up...

\---

(MizBill POV)

Getting a Penalty was totally worth it just for this! Really, a little pain now meant less pain later. And I felt a lot better now that I had confirmation. Truthfully, I'd been stressing about how Stan and Ford would feel once it came out that they weren't each other's twins. And, well...

They were still under the wrong impression (and it wasn't funny at all! Not one little bit!) but they did care about each other. That counted for something. And even if they weren't each other's original brothers, they had spent all this time together. That must count for something too! And it took a weight off my mind to know that they cared. Whether they would still do so after the truth came out was something entirely different! But, I held onto the hope that things would turn out alright. Because I didn't want this to be an unhappy ending.

Stan's twin was a horrible person, if what I've been able to See meant anything. For the life of me, I couldn't actually tell if 'Ford loved his brother. Part of me wasn't feeling very charitable towards the guy, I didn't think he loved Stan back. And that was awful. Whatever, he didn't know what he was missing out. (He was also dead, but that was an entirely separate matter.)

Really, the barrier around the Shack made things so much harder than they needed to be. I couldn't See inside it like I normally did whenever I opened my Eye. But, with what I had gleamed from that time I went Up to brother's Axolotl, and my slow study of the information I had found there (slowly and carefully examined every time I returned to my Mindscape), I could See inside the Shack now. There were so many things I wanted to mess with, now that I had more knowledge on how this world worked, but I'm gonna put that off for now.

Didn't want to risk overwhelming myself with the knowledge I contained. I could take my time. This world was simply fascinating.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Finally back! Hoping to wrap up this Arc soon XD
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Oh, look. Miz being manipulative in spades, and also kind of horrifying at the end there. ...Yay?
> 
> ;)
> 
> [Chapter 121](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/51179557) is a non-spoiler interlude chapter ("Chapter 98.5.1") that takes place back in MizBill's home dimensional set. It's MizBill-centric, set post-BlueBill-arc end. If you're interested in some of the changes in MizBill's thinking after everything that happened in this fic, I'd recommend reading some of this. (Up to the reader, I guess, to decide whether she's either more or less screwed up now, after meeting with -A Bill and becoming siblings with him, than she was at the very beginning of things before…)
> 
> [Chapter 122](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/51392254) is an interlude chapter ("Chapter 98.5.2") that takes place back in MizBill's home dimensional set. It's the Axolotl again, and I found the chapter super-interesting. It explains some things with the "broken Bills" in MizBill's Void of Doors, too. I'd recommend giving it a read! :)


	37. Chapter 98.6: But I can give you something else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> I can't make you do what I want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 123 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/51609634). It was first posted on Dec 2, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\---

Okay, okay. Stan knew he wasn’t asleep (and that Ford wasn't just gonna 'wake up' and change his mind on everything for _no good reason_ ), but that didn’t mean that everything still wasn’t completely freaking strange. All the hugging without getting punched in the face for tryin’ it -- Ford actually _wanting_ it instead; the dragon-lady saying they loved each other -- Ford actually sayin’ it straight-out, out loud, himself, without getting into a fight with the dragon-lady over it...

Ford didn’t say stuff like that out loud, and neither did he. And Ford… _hadn’t_ been lying. About any of it? But Stan didn’t know how to square what Ford was saying and ~~(almost unbelievably, actually)~~ meaning _now_ with what had happened thirty years ago, or any of the rest of it, really...

...unless at some point, Ford had changed his mind on him again, for some reason... ~~because of something Stanley had done…?~~ and…?

Stan had no idea what he had done that could have made Ford change his mind about him like that, though. Because if everything was supposed to be ‘all better now' because of the whole _memory gun_ thing… well, Stan had his memories back and Bill hadn’t actually stayed dead, so...

...if _that_ was the thing that was supposed to have changed Ford’s mind on him, then...

...it really _was_ only a matter of time before Ford really thought that one through again, 'woke up' to the reality of a bunch of things that he really didn't like, and decided to be disappointed and mad and angry at him all over again, wasn't it? Because Stan knew better than to think that circle-thing was going to work on the demon-kid if it came down to it ~~bullshit about his not-a-tattoo burning him or not or otherwise~~ , but Ford still thought that it would...

...and Stan didn’t know how to explain that one to Ford, that it just flat-out _wouldn’t_. Because he’d tried explaining it to Ford before now, and it just hadn’t… clicked for him? Ford just didn’t get it. Stan didn’t know how to explain it to him. ~~And Stan knew better than to think Ford always knew more and better than he did anymore, long since. Even if Ford still thought that he did... on anything he thought was important on anything, anyway.~~ Which meant it really _was_ only a matter of time, until...

...yeah, okay. Guess he’d better just enjoy it while it lasted, right? Wasn’t really _his_ callout that Ford wasn’t thinking any of all of this stuff through completely...

(If Ford had known that was how Stan felt, he would have realized something was wrong even sooner…)

\---

That evening, after Mabel got over ‘awwing’ all over the whole ‘you told each other you love each other’ thing (yeah, yeah…), Stan finished cooking for his own family, and turned the stove over to Miz. By the time he’d gotten all the plates out and sat down, Miz had finished cooking for her brother in the Shack kitchen (as per the usual these days), handing Bill his plate of expertly-seared vegetables with a nuzzle and a "With all my love~!" (which left Bill blinking, and made Dipper gag). Miz _then_ informed them all, with a proud smile, that she wasn't hungry (which was anything but the usual, by contrast). Though she did put a spoonful of food (Stan's latest home cooking!) in her mouth and hold it there for taste, just because.

Stan gave her a long look, his good mood starting to evaporate already. "There any fish still left in the lake for fishing?" he asked her. Last thing he needed was Tate McGucket getting on his case, if the dragon-lady pulled something like that with the ‘local wildlife’, and...

"Yes," Bill replied to Stanley for her, as he used his fork on said (by his standards) actually-edible vegetables. "We got more meat from deer in the forest to replace the fish in the freezer. Non-enchanted. We went to the lake after. Miz ate there, but she didn't eat any fish."

Stan was about ready to let the whole ‘non-enchanted’ bit just slide right there, when Ford slammed his hands into the table as he shot to his feet, bristling in place as he shouted out in alarm--

"--Then what, _or who_ , did the man eater eat?!?" (...Okay, guess Ford didn’t care all that much about that one there, then. Yup. Stan was okay with this.) Ford’s yell garnered wide-eyed looks from both Dipper and Mabel. (And something of a suppressed groan from Stan, who was pretty damn sure the two of them both knew better than that. Not to mention: not liking to eat celery-hair as an already-cited ‘excuse’ for not eating humans. Which Ford had heard from Miz himself.)

Bill rolled his eyes and let out something of a sigh. " _Relax_ , Sixer," he half-drawled out, as he speared another bite of his meal from his plate. "She only ate a bunch of 'what's, no 'who's." Bill said as he took a bite and chewed for a bit (speaking with perfect clarity with a nearly-closed mouth as he talked around the food in his mouth -- which wasn't visible at all despite his not having swallowed it yet). "And none of the 'what's belonged to anyone either, Sixer, don't get your trenchcoat twisted into a knot about it," Bill added next, in descending annoyed tones and the start of a glare, directed at Ford. "It was just--"

"--Trash!" Miz said brightly next (having swallowed her mouthful at last), and everyone (except Bill) blinked at this. (Bill, for his part, _grimaced_ at Miz's words instead.) Stan himself had to adjust his hearing aid before asking Miz…

"...Say that again?"

"Ugh," Bill complained. "-- _No_ ," Bill told her, before raising a hand and mussing up Miz's hair, to her immediate whining noises of protest. "Not ‘trash’. --You _do **not**_ tell sapient species that you eat 'trash' things that they cannot and do not want to eat! They don't _understand_ ," Bill told her next, letting up on the hair-mussing finally, but still leaving his hand on top of her head (just in case he needed to start it up again at a moment’s notice if she tried contradicting him on this, most very important point). "They just automatically think of you as stupid, barely-sentient, and _lesser_ if you do that! _ALWAYS._ " He sounded not very pleased with her at the moment.

Then Bill turned away from his sister to look up at the rest of them -- mainly Stan. "--She said she wanted to clean the lake earlier," Bill Cipher told Stan. "Easier way for her to do that is to _disintegrate_ things by stuffing them far enough down into her mouth, that is what happens to them. It is _not_ , by any stretch of Sixer’s very _limited_ imagination, _anything_ like what any of you would call ‘eating’. Let alone ‘eating _trash_.’" Bill rolled his eyes again.

Miz herself mumbled, "...trash and dead bodies were what they used to make baby formula back in my Flatland… that was all I could afford to eat back then..." before getting another spoonful and quickly silencing herself with a large mouthful of food again.

"... Right," Stan said. Hell, he didn't want to touch _that_ one at all. He glanced over at Ford, and his brother… was grimacing to himself a little and pinching the bridge of his nose, while the kid was… looking rather dead-no-expression-faced for the moment, just focusing on eating instead. Great.

"...Where did you _get_ it?" Dipper said slowly, of the ‘trash’ that Miz had supposedly eaten. (Luckily, he hadn’t heard what she had just muttered out at them under her breath. However...) He was feeling a little weirded (and grossed) out at the idea of Miz maybe upending trashcans to eat stuff. Even the goat ate better than that… and sometimes people threw really bad and nasty stuff away...

Miz, mouth full with that 'stolen' bite of food from the serving bowl Stan had put out (read: a ‘bite’ so big it had been almost the size of her _fist_ ), responded by talking with her mouth closed, essentially humming her words. "Mm mmmhh hhm hhhmmmuuumm hhuu mmh!" she explained cheerfully.

...Everyone stared at her except Bill, though there was more exasperation in Bill's look after Miz finished talking than before it, as he continued looking down at his plate and speared another bit of food on said plate with a light 'thunk'.

"Kid… translation?" Stan asked the demon-kid, who apparently had understood whatever his sister had been mumble-humming at them, if the kid’s response to said mumble-hum meant anything at all. Stan almost didn't expect a response outta him for asking, except 'effective communication' was a big _thing_ with the kid, and...

"'I was swimming and found some litter and trash at the bottom.'" Bill 'translated' for her (and given how he rattled that off with the near-exact same cadence as what they'd just heard… it was pretty clear that he was largely just repeating what she'd just... 'said'... to them all). He then frowned. "Except it _wasn’t_ \--"

"--So she really ate trash?" Dipper looked a little green. The stuff down in the bottom of the lake was probably _moldy_. And rusted and falling _apart!_ \--And had stuff **living** in it! EW!

"--NO!" Bill said in pure annoyance. "I _JUST SAID_ \--"

\--and Miz interrupted her brother with a shrug and a, "Hhhuueee mmmuu hhuunnn hhuu huuui he hhhh!"

"'I removed my sense of taste for the duration, cleaned off the dirt, algae, and sand, and my stomach took care of the rest,'" Bill responded for her again, in the same rattled off and rather disinterested cadence, even as he rolled his eyes up rather ceiling-ward as he did it. ("Hhhm!" Miz nodded.) "--It _ISN’T TRASH_ ," Bill said in a far different manner next, in response to this, mussing up Miz’s hair again. "It’s discarded and lost matter at the bottom of the lake. Most of which didn’t have anything _living in it_ when she grabbed it, and what _was_ was _removed_ before she did anything else to-or-with it," Bill clarified in annoyance, as he let up on the hair-mussing again.

"...Well, it's good that you cleaned the lake?" Mabel tried next. Dipper still looked a little grossed out at the idea of Miz eating what was effectively still trash. "Hh hoo uhh he huhh heee huaa nng huohuu." Miz shrugged.

"'It was mostly empty beer cans, bottles, broken fishing lines, hooks…'" Bill rattled off before taking another bite of food to eat.

" _Stop_ please!" Dipper groaned, face buried in his hands. Miz made a sympathetic hum at him, looking like she wanted to… do something from across the table. (Pat his back.) Mabel hugged him at his side instead. And after awhile (and some deep breathing as he tried not to throw up at the thought of eating all that literal likely rusting and rotten old _garbage_ ), Dipper looked up at Miz again.

"I can't believe you ate that stuff," Dipper told her, frowning. "Forget not _telling_ people about it -- you shouldn't **eat** tra--! ...things that _might as well be_ trash!" Dipper ended only slightly differently, given the look that Bill had been starting to give him right then. But somebody had to say _something_ about it, right? This was _really_ messed up, and Dipper never thought he’d have to tell someone (who wasn’t a member of Sev’ral Timez) something like this outright.

"Hhmm!" Miz pouted, as much as she could with a mouthful of food.

Bill didn't even side-eye her over that one -- or try to play translator for her again this time -- and it left Dipper sighing. "Just swallow or something, already; are you seriously going to keep not swallowing that mouthful for forever?" Dipper asked her.

"Hm." Miz shrugged. She didn’t see what the problem was. (Mabel privately thought Miz looked like a chipmunk with her cheeks full like they were, but she just giggled quietly and kept that thought to herself.)

Ford grimaced and tried (unsuccessfully) to ignore the man-eater’s annoying behavior.

Meanwhile, Stan largely let it all be. He had something of a suspicion that Miz might be doing that so she wouldn’t be able to talk during dinner without some kind of translator. (It left Ford and the demon-kid talking to each other more, too, if only by proxy, and somehow not getting into fights over it -- which Stan didn’t have to wonder about, maybe might have been part of the dragon-lady’s whole ‘plan’ for doin’ it in the first place. Not like Stan hadn’t picked up on that one there, either.)

Still, that ended up being pretty much the ‘excitement’ at the dinner table that night. Everyone else finished eating from there, and aside from Dipper giving Miz some grimaces for the rest of the meal this time, it was an almost-peaceful dinner.

Before leaving to go back upstairs after dinner, Miz finally swallowed her mouthful and asked, "Can I clean the Shack? Like… wipe off the dust, dirt and grime?"

"...What, right now?" Stan asked (and it wasn’t just him -- it even had Ford looking at her a little askance).

"Not right this second, like, just in general, maybe starting tomorrow? When I have free time?" Miz blinked at him.

"...Why do ya want to do it?" Stan asked (though it was in somewhat-descending tones, like he was almost trying not to make it a question). He was definitely in gruff old-man-mode at the moment, a bit.

Miz wiggled from side to side. "It's calming. I like cleaning. And tidying stuff," she told him. ...Right, Stan remembered, the dragon lady had mentioned something about that before, when she was wearing that maid outfit. "Y’know, you’ve cleaned stuff before, ‘cause you were gettin’ all restless. Didn’t really try and stop you, then," though he still didn’t get why she had such an itch for doin’ it. Sure, she was a dragon-lady and all, but didn’t most kids want to try and get _out_ of doing housework? "Why're you asking for my permission now?"

"Well, before I was just cleaning the spots that no one really cared about even though they were in plain sight, but this is your territory so I have to ask for permission to do any more intensive and thorough cleaning in the other areas," Miz told him.

"Uh-huh…" Stan said neutrally. Territory, sure. And here he’d wondered about whether the kid had claimed the whole Shack for himself, like Ford kept worrying that he had. _Take that one, Ford._ Stan was damn well sure that the demon-kid hadn’t done that, if Miz was talking to _him_ about this, and the kid himself wasn’t complaining about it right now; not like he wasn’t in earshot, standin’ right there next to her and all that.

"And what would this cleaning involve?" Stan asked of Miz next. Miz glanced away, over at the cabinets and then proceeded to give Stan a full-on _list_ of every dirt, dust, and grime pile Miz had noticed around the shack. ("--there’s some mold growing behind the tv, I can smell it.") And she even brought up that small termite colony that was trying to build inside the walls ("I can hear them moving!") From the look on her face, all of this had apparently been bothering her for a while now. "N-not that I'm saying the shack is dirty or anything! It's just a few places that don't get used often so stuff just collects there and--"

Stan held up a hand and Miz closed her mouth. "It’s fine. I think I get it. So… you mostly just want to clean the dirt and dust off, right? Only the dirt and dust kinda stuff?" he clarified.

Miz nodded. "Mold too, since it can negatively affect your health. And moving the bugs outside, they can live just fine out there, without being in here." Stan grimaced at the last (he’d _just_ gotten done negotiating with those stupid things about boundaries all over again; he didn’t need her mucking it all up). Miz seemed to notice Stan’s expression, and added, "...if you want to keep the bugs, you can keep the bugs," she relented.

"Don’t want to _keep_ ‘em, exactly," Stan told her, scratching his cheek. "Just ain’t worth the effort to mess with ‘em like that. You should leave ‘em alone," he told her. Not like they wouldn’t just move right back in once she was gone -- or worse, something _else_ would end up moving in instead. ...which was half the reason why he didn’t try getting rid of them completely in the first place.

Miz thought about it. "Alright." she finally nodded. "I will leave the bugs alone. What about the mice?"

"Don’t got any mice," Stan said to her. "Can’t you just go askin’ your brother to help with you not hearin’ the termites and stuff? If it’s bothering you all that much hearing them."

"I could do that," Bill said casually. "You want to work on selective hearing or a full-eclipse blockout instead?" (It didn’t take a genius to see which option Bill thought was a bad one -- the second -- but he still offered her both.)

Miz looked over at Bill, mildly surprised. "Um… I guess selective? I have a way to muffle sounds that are too loud, but I hadn’t really messed with the opposite."

"Selective isn’t a block or a muffle, it’s a shunt," Bill noted. "Might want to listen to it later. We can talk more upstairs." He didn’t particularly want to get into layering techniques with her, right in front of that Stanford as he was standing there. Or Pine Tree. Or...

Miz nodded at that. "Maybe they’ll tell me their secrets."

"The termites? Not likely," Bill told her. "They’re not all that chatty with each other. --Operational security, you know." They’d learned after having to deal with Stanley for so long, Bill suspected.

"Yeah, all they really talk about is how much they want to kill anything that enters their territory… not really the nicest thing to listen to." Miz mumbled. 

"Termites don’t talk…" Dipper said slowly, looking back and forth between the two demons, with a lot less enthusiasm and a clear lack of ‘you silly! boop!’ which they would otherwise be getting from his sister, if Mabel hadn’t already gone up the stairs.

"Not in a language _you_ understand." Miz huffed. "I happen to be multilingual."

"That’s not--" Dipper began, but he stopped at a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at his Great-Uncle Ford with a slight frown, but Great-Uncle Ford just shook his head at him slightly, standing tall.

"Yeah, so," Stan said, trying to get the discussion back on track again. "You wanna get rid of the rest of the dirt, dust, and mold around the place, in all those places you just listed there," he clarified once more, "That right?", to Miz’s nod. "Fine," Stan said. "Take your time at it, though," he told her. "Not like any of it’s goin’ anywhere. Maybe get your brother in on it, if he wants to," he added, which was met with an indifferent shrug from said demon-kid brother with nary a glance coming Stan’s way over it.

Ford was frowning at all this (not particularly liking the idea of Miz ‘cleaning’ everything -- or, rather, her and Bill Cipher getting into every nook and cranny of the Shack like that, in order to do Axolotl-knew-what in every hard-to-reach -- and thus hard-to- _see_ to _check_ \-- place on the premises), but before he could say anything himself to this effect, he was interrupted by Dipper’s aghast, "You’re not gonna _eat_ any of it, are you?" (He hadn’t seen much of Miz’s cleaning when it was done earlier, only heard a little bit about it from Mabel.)

"What?! Eeewww no!" Miz gagged. "Metal, plastic or glass is one thing, but the discarded skin flakes among other broken down biological matter is something entirely different!" She pouted. "Besides, I _cleaned_ all the stuff at the lake before I ate them! I’m not a _savage_!"

"--How is it different? Trash is trash!" Dipper protested, to which Miz scoffed, folding her arms and looking almost offended.

"I’m not going to argue semantics with you," Miz told him. When Dipper looked about to complain some more, Miz rolled her eyes and remarked, "Don’t you chew on pens?"

"I don’t _eat_ them!" Dipper squeaked as his voice cracked. "I just chew on them!"

The demon-kid rolled his eyes at all this in pure exasperation, and Stan snorted, not even hiding his amusement. When the demon-kid gave him a glare for his trouble next, Stan just outright started laughing -- he really couldn't help it, the whole thing was so **stupid** \-- and he only began laughing _even harder_ when Ford gave him a straight-up ‘you are hopeless’ exasperated look of his own as he did it.

"And plastic is nice to chew on. It’s got such varying firmness!" Miz responded plainly, as if she was agreeing with him. "And glass is even better!"

"I’m _not_ gonna chew on _glass!_ " Dipper protested, which got him a sigh and a shake of the head from Miz.

And then Miz went on to say, as if educating him on this matter, "But glass is _really_ crunchy. Even more so than plastic! And much less gross to chew on than sand!"

Stan was _wheezing_ by this point. (And Dipper was just left staring and feeling embarrassed.)

"--Not that I chew on sand that often," Miz continued, "Because it’s usually got all this extra stuff in it, because people forget and leave their food out on the beach, and I don’t want anything to do with that. They should all just clean up after themselves," she informed them quite seriously. "Besides, I don’t even need sand to chew on anymore! There are _lots_ of people who will make all _sorts_ of glass for me, now! And like, if you gave me someone's half eaten food or a rotten banana peel, I'm NOT eating that, just to be clear, sand or no sand on it," Miz continued. "But cleaned empty beer cans and stuff are different. All the biodegradable stuff is cleaned off to let nature take care of that on its own and then I eat the part that they can't break down." She was just getting rid of the man made stuff. What was the problem here?

Dipper buried his face in his hands. " _So_ glad I'm done eating…" He was _really_ wishing he hadn’t asked her about any of this now. ...Though knowing that she cleaned the mold and stuff off first, made it a _little_ better.

"I think that’s enough talk about eating habits for now," Ford said rather quellingly (reaching rather firmly for a deep well of patience that he really had not realized he still had, when it came to any demons he might come to an encounter with), and -- oddly enough -- it seemed to work. Stan grunted out an agreement with him, and the demons finally left to go back upstairs -- Bill essentially herding his sister out of the room as a result of this… before she could start an argument with his grand-nephew over the differences in their individual eating habits?

Dipper let out a sigh of relief at this -- and the teenager turned to give his grunkle a deadpan look, because apparently he was still caught in the throes of hilarity. "It's not that funny, Grunkle Stan."

Stan just kept on laughing. It was all so freaking ridiculous. The looks they’d kept tossing around over this shit. Dipper’s eating pens up against Miz’s glass-eating, apparently. The fact that Dipper drew the line at Miz eating litter, despite all the other probably much worse things Miz had gone off and eaten...

...like people...

...yeah, okay. That helped kill it for him. (So did the idea of some of the literal trash that Stan had dumpster-dove and eaten out of the top of trashcans back in the day when he’d been damn near starving out on the streets, off-and-on again for a bit. He didn’t want to think of what the kids would think of him for _that_ one now, given what he’d heard from all this, especially Dipper’s own reactions.) Stan let out a breath, pulled in another, and got it all under control. And then...

"Yeah, well, off to bed wi' you," Stan said, grumpily shooing the remaining of the two twins (read: Dipper) upstairs, as he got to finishing clearing the table. The demons had washed their own dishes earlier, and Stan shook his head in amusement as he got to cleaning his family’s own ‘human’ dishes himself. ...So Miz wanted to clean, huh? Well, depending on what her definition of ‘clean’ was, maybe Stan could take advantage of the situation to get the kids to feel guilty enough to clear out some of the storage room or something for him. Shame the kids into doing some of their own little bit of cleaning. Hell, even cleaning up their own room for a start. That'd be useful.

\---

That night, after a whole day of observing her brother for potential side effects and having found none, Miz finally brought up the idea to her brother of making other vessels for him to temporarily inhabit.

Bill wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the odd smile Miz had going as she suggested this to him, but the idea seemed to make his sister happy, so he was willing to hear her out…

...and once he had, _WELL!_ Then, Bill was ALL FOR IT!

...and this was how Stan came into the kitchen the next morning to find two cats in there that he was pretty sure they didn’t own.

Stan blinked. "Uh…" he said. He almost asked Mabel who she’d stolen the two cats from, except the coloring on these two _definitely_ wasn’t normal, which meant that...

Mabel was petting a small black and yellow kitten that _had_ to be Miz, while an adult cat (with black and blue fur) looked on from the countertop, watching lazily.

"So…" Stan said, deciding to take this one in stride, like he usually did with anything else strange that happened in this crazy freaking town. "Why are you two all cat-ified this morning before breakfast." Because he wasn’t planning on fishing for a lot of tuna for these two; no way. They brought in deer meat yesterday for Miz to keep on eating? Then they could just eat deer meat, then.

The black and blue haired cat, which Stan would bet just about anything was probably the kid, turned its head and glanced over at Stan. The cat blinked slowly, before stretching, straightening, and then jumping onto the kitchen table, right across from him.

And then Stan heard, as the cat’s eyes _glowed_ slightly, in beat with what Stan was hearing, "Miz wanted headpats. She thought being a cat would get her all the free head pats." The cat paused, then sat down in place and added, "Also, Miz cleaned the attic area this morning while she was like this. She said it was easier to get into the small spots while she’s this small."

"...Right." Stan stared at the demon-kid(-cat?), that hadn’t moved its mouth at all during _any_ of this. (And yeah, sure, Stan remembered the triangle yell-talk-glowing at him inside of his head -- and outside of it -- right before the whole memory gun thing, but this was--)

The kitten in Mabel’s arms purred, as Mabel kept on petting it, and Mabel squealed out, "--Talking cats! _Magic_ cats!"

"Yes!" the yellow and black cat yowled out agreeably, moving its mouth slightly as it did so. " _Ooh!_ Ooh-ooh-ooh!" It rolled over and out of Mabel’s arms, from on its back to onto its stomach on the kitchen table, and looked up all big-eyed at Stan. "--Do you think we could be an exhibit at the Shack?" Miz asked him next. "$5 to pet the magic cats!" Miz’s voice squealed out next, eyes glowing faintly (while her mouth wasn’t moving) as well.

Mabel scritched the kitten’s ears. " _I’d_ pay five bucks to pet a magic cat!" Mabel told her, giving her valuable input. "You’re soooo soft!"

And KittenMiz looked so very proud of herself for this fact. (Being so soft and Mabel-approved pettable.)

At this, Stan glanced over at the demon-kid (demon-cat?) again, "Am I hearin’ this right?" he asked. "You two are _both_ actually doin’ this ‘cause you want to." Because if the dragon-lady was starting to talk the demon-kid into this kinda crazy shit when he didn’t want to do it, Stan really needed to know this one, _now_.

But the CatBill just swished their tail calmly, no eye rolls or nothin’. "She thought it would be fun," Stan was told by said triangle-demon turned-black-and-blue-cat, before he could even ask him why he was doin’ it directly.

"And if it helps earn money, that’s just a bonus!" Miz said happily next.

"Uh huh," Stan said noncommittally, still looking over at the older cat here. And, okay, sure, the demon-cat wasn’t complaining _yet_ , but... "You sure you’re up for this. The whole Shack exhibit thing," Stan said to him a little skeptically (and for good reason, considering what he knew the kid thought of all of that stuff).

But at this, the kid straight out _cat-grinned_ at him, looking oh so very cat-like smug, as he eye-glowed out at him, "It _would_ be fun to be worshipped again."

And at that, Stan probably should have hit the brakes on this madness right then and there. (For one thing, Ford was probably gonna throw a fit over anything _the kid himself_ might ever consider or call ‘worship’. ~~He probably should at least talk to him about it, first… if he wanted a reason to stop.~~ )

But instead of kiboshing it there, Stan started making breakfast instead, while casually remarking, "If you want to be an exhibit, we're gonna have to work out just how much 'magic' you magic cats are gonna have, here," because just straight-out talking cats would be too much. There was a fine balance between engaging fake exhibits and the real deal.

Stan wasn’t stupid. And Dipper had told him what had happened when he and Mabel had tried to put a real monster on display… and it had not been anything like good for them, either. Stan knew Mabel knew that, and he wanted the reminder right out there in the open for this. Because if the demons really wanted to do this -- and from the purring that Miz was letting out, she _really_ wanted to do it -- Stan would have to make sure to regulate what they were allowed to do.

...it wasn't like Stan was seeing dollar signs flashing before his eyes or anything.

(Meanwhile, Miz was very much hoping this distraction-slash-bribe would lessen Stan’s eventual Penalty for her, for the whole messing-with-Ford-via-Mabel-two-days-ago thing… and she also really _could_ more easily get into all the small places that she wanted to clean when she was this size, just like she had in the attic.)

\----

"This is a terrible idea." Ford said wearily, knowing that his brother wasn't going to listen to him anyway. But Mabel was already worked up about it, and Dipper was going along with what his sister wanted for now, and Stan, as per the usual these days, just laughed at him and said, "It'll be fine. This might be good for the kid."

(Because it was more than just the potential of making bank by exploiting the demons' cuteness as magical cats that had made Stan want to agree with this. Having the two ‘cats’ as an exhibit would have the kid _needing_ to be interacting with non-Zodiac people -- adult humans -- specifically, _the tourists_. Stan had wanted to get the kid doing that for a while now, but the demon had refused point blank to have anything to do with any of the idiots who came by the Shack. ...By which the demon-kid apparently meant any and every adult that had ever shown up, and most older teenagers. That said, Stan had recognized over time that the ‘idiot-tourist’ label _didn’t_ seem to extend to any Shack visitor who was younger than age thirteen, for whatever reason -- and when it came to the _really_ young ones, around ages 3 to 5 or so, and up to almost around age 7, the kid was actually pretty--)

Because now the kid was going to _**have**_ to be around all those people that he considered ‘tourists’. Because his sister wanted to do this thing. And… Stan paused as he thought about it, because… Huh. ...Well, what do you know? Looked like Miz was doing what Stan had been trying for, getting the kid to socialize with humans more. ...Hell, now that Stan thought about it, Miz had also agreed to go to high school when he’d brought it up, when they’d both known that the kid would feel like he’d _have_ to go with her. ...And Stan mentally pat himself on the back over this one, yet again. Because as much trouble as the younger demon caused with Ford, having Bill take her on as a younger sister was still the best plan Stan had ever had involving the two of ‘em. (...Things could’a been a hell of a lot worse if she’d been runnin’ around whatever places out on her own here instead, for a start.)

And Miz was… eh, _somewhat_ easier to handle than the kid, sometimes. (As long as it didn't involve Ford. Then they were both pretty terrible.) The real problem with her wasn’t that she was trying to sabotage him or nothin’; it was actually kind of the opposite of that. Hell, if that _had_ been the problem, Stan practically could’ve just dialed it in and called it a day; the kid wouldn’t put up with that kinda shit from anybody messing with ‘his own Zodiac’. No, a big part of the problem was that Miz usually listened to him when he told her stuff, _most_ of the time, but she _also_ usually **didn’t** remember what he’d told her when she was caught up in the heat of the moment -- and not only did that happen way too often with her, but that was also when Stan usually needed her to remember it the most. That made her dangerous and unpredictable...

...but not actively malicious. She _wasn't_ actively malicious; not like the kid was. The kid really _was_ that way about things sometimes. Miz _not_ being that way with them was as much a _problem_ as it was a relief though, because it made it that much harder for Stan to call her out for all of the shit she did later -- ‘accidents’ got treated differently than ‘on purpose’ with the way he’d set up the agreement with the kid from the start. (He’d set that all up with just them and the _kid_ in mind, not Miz. So at the time he’d come up with it, Stan hadn’t thought he’d needed to worry more about ‘accidents’ than about all the ‘on purpose’ _malicious_ kinda stuff. The demon-kid did almost all of the worst of all his shit ‘on purpose’, and almost never ‘by accident’ on him. Dragon lady was the other way around completely there, though. Funhouse mirrors didn’t begin to cover what it was like trying to relate all of the two demons’ junk.)

What _wasn’t_ a problem with Miz, though -- and more of a help than anything -- was that Miz seemed to understand most (if not all) human concepts a _hell_ of a lot better than the kid did. And heck, she was trying to get her brother to hang out around humans more. (Which was just about a freakin’ godsend, right now!)

...And at this point, Stan figured she was actively _trying_ to use herself as some kind of incentive (or blackmail) to lure Bill into social situations with other (non-demon) people, for whatever reason. It sure looked that way to him, and Stan definitely wouldn't put it past her. (Probably had something to do with how she seemed to want to be around a lot more people a lot more often than the kid did, usually. Regular amounts of people, anyway, not crowds or whatever. The way she’d gotten a little bit scared from the audience at her fire show had certainly been… _something_ , right there.) She was craftier than she seemed, though; she went at things a lot more sideways than the demon-kid liked to do it… when the kid didn’t think he had to be all ‘crafty’ and _lying_ and junk...

...Figured that the two ‘Bill Cipher’s would both be real bad at manipulation, just in their own different ways of screwing it up. --Hell, Stan actually _recognized_ it **easier** with her than he did with the demon-kid; Miz’s way of doing it was a hell of a lot more ‘human’ than the kid usually went about doing things. (Just because the kid was ‘straightforward’ about it inside his own head, didn’t mean it didn’t look twisty as hell to anybody else without twelve compasses and a roadmap. If Stan hadn’t been just about forced to work with a bunch of psychopaths over the years way back when, during those ten years of...)

"What’s good for Bill Cipher is generally not good for anyone else," Stan’s brother told him.

Stan shook his head.

"Look, Poindexter. We'll all be here watching." He seriously doubted that anyone would actually start seriously worshipping the demon-cat on the spot like the kid seemed to think was gonna happen, there. Not in a place like this, hell. "And I talked Miz through some protections she could put on herself to keep any of the tourists from grabbin' her in a way that could panic her." Stan had made certain Miz didn't forget about that. That new kitty collar she was wearing now for the display was both her 'Emotion filter headband' as well as ‘protection’ from others. And… "I even got the kid in on it, too." The demon-kid had even actively _hands-on_ helped her rework the magic-cancelling cuffs she’d been wearing into the other new ‘golden’ accessories she was now decorated with, physically going over the pieces with her outside of the barrier, instead of just talking her through it (which apparently the kid had been doing usually). (The fact that the kid had been doing more and more of that _helping_ ‘hands-on’ type of stuff with her lately, for some reason, was something Stan knew he was gonna have to ask after sooner rather than later, too).

(Stan later found out that apparently Miz was much better at hands-on learning as opposed to simply hearing about something without trying it out herself, right then, on the spot. Something about ‘tactile’-something or another. Which apparently the kid _got_ like nothing-going… and Stan tucked that pretty damn telling little piece of information away in the back of his brain to keep in mind for later, for another long talk on another rainy day, when the kid was in a really good mood.)

Ford had let out a long sigh and made some complaint or another under his breath, one that Stan hadn’t actually heard real well as Ford turned away from him and strode away. Stan watched as Ford punched in the right buttons on the vending machine, to walk his way into the ‘secret entrance’ down to the basement and... disappear off downstairs ‘for the duration’ again, probably.

Stan left him to it, looking in one of the gift shop mirrors while adjusting his tie just a bit. He himself was tossing in a bit of his own ‘buy-in’ into the whole thing, too -- he was back in his Mr. Mystery outfit, leading all the tours today that were gonna be displaying the newest exhibit. (It let him keep an eye out on both of the demon-kids, and would give him a chance to keep anybody from even thinking grabbing either them from the start. Because it was...) _A grand unveiling **today!!** Just $25 to go in to see it and…_

...a part of him had really kinda missed doing this, a lot more than he wanted to admit.

"Step right up folks! Come see the artifacts unearthed from a real Egyptian tomb!" Stan enthused out Mr. Mystery-style, as he grinned widely and waved his hands at the display that Mabel, Miz, and Dipper had built together. The girls had had fun with the arts and crafts part (outside of the barrier, where Miz wasn’t restricted to just and only her cat paws), while Dipper (nose in a book on ancient Egypt) had interjected with help on all that ‘historical accuracy’ stuff for the hieroglyphs and structures and things. Meanwhile, the kid had stood off to the side and taken _way_ too much pleasure in correcting _Dipper_ when apparently his ‘Pine Tree’ managed to somehow get anything wrong. (...Not that any of them had paid much attention to the demon-cat’s asides on any of that junk, despite any and all of the demon-kid’s cat-like complaining, heh. It had sounded like a lot of technical, nitpicky stuff that nobody in their right mind would ever care about, anyway. And hey, the way things turned out, the darn thing certainly _looked_ authentic to the four of them. And with the lighting down dim, it certainly gave off an air of spookiness to the whole thing.)

As the tourists took their photos and all "Ooh"ed a bunch over the display, Stan grinned as he hammed it up. "Oh no! The flash photography has activated the CURSE! When light shines upon them, the spirits of the dead will be stirred _once MORE…!_ " Stan cried out spookily (in true hammed-up Mr. Mystery fashion) and the crowd gasped out loudly at this display.

"--And the _only_ way to appease the curse is to give them an offering of gold!" Stan told them next, as he gestured to a coin dispenser machine with the words 'gold dispenser' on it. "Just your luck! They're only five dollars each! ...Though the curse is pretty minor, so unless you mock them, you probably don't _have_ to appease the spirits... to get out of it all _aliiiiiiive_." (It almost hurt him to say that one, but the dragon lady had insisted on that, that "They should still have a choice to refuse if they want," so he’d gone with it. Gettin’ the kid to even be in the same _room_ with the adult tourists was a big step up, and definitely worth the potential loss of revenue he could’ve otherwise scammed out of these suckers, even if he didn’t want to admit it.)

Stan let none of these thoughts mar his Mr. Mystery grin, though, as he pointed to the spot on the machine that accepted bills. "But if you're worried -- and hey, if _I_ were you, I _would_ be -- you can deposit the gold into the altar to be freed from any" -- _ugh_ \-- " _potentially_ " (-- there, he said it! --) " **horrifying** consequences."

A few guys scoffed at the idea of a 'curse'. "Yeah right," one guy laughed out. (...Heh. _Showtime._ )

Stan gasped out at this terrible, _terribly_ stupid thing that this guy had just done right here. (Heh.) "Oh no! You've mocked the spirits!" Stan cried out next, and at that cue--

The regal ‘black cat statue', adorned with glinting jewels and gold, sitting beside a tiny little sarcophagus with some wrapped-up bandaged thing inside it, almost creakingly rotated its head level on its neck _s l o w l y_ towards the chuckling rube, to stare straight into the eyes of the man who had laughed, who was now standing there looking absolutely shocked as he slowly turned pale.

The crowd gasped. "Holy-- it's ALIVE!"

And at _that_ gasping reaction, the bundle of bandages in the sarcophagus began to wiggle a bit next. And out of said bandages something torturously crawled itself free and slowly sat up, a tiny black kitten with gleaming golden eyes. The crowd screamed.

And the man who had laughed before was staring wide-eyed at this whole scene now, looking almost frozen in place. "H-heh. Neat trick. It's… it’s just a _cat_ …" he said nervously, swallowing hard. But the larger cat was still staring _unblinkingly_ at him, making the man somewhat uncomfortable. And the man winced next as the moving kitten _stopped_ moving all at once and **stared** at him too, then opened its mouth wide and began _hissing_ at him softly.

( _Heh,_ thought Stan. ...Man, and he’d thought the two demons had just used their natural demon-ny-ness to win themselves that prize booth. This was actually some next-level shit right here. Stan could unabashedly appreciate the stagecraft that was goin’ on, here. Even if he sure as hell wasn’t gonna show any of it at all on his face.)

That… wasn't normal right? You couldn't train a cat to do that, right? The man managed to get his feet unstuck from the floor, and started to move a little bit away from them, but the cats continued to follow his movements with their eyes. He was starting to break out in a cold sweat, because... Holy hell, were that kitten's eyes _glowing?!_

"--Quick! _Give the machine five dollars!_ " Stan gasped out next. The man immediately shoved his hand into his pocket, digging around for his wallet, and he all but stumbled backwards as he fumblingly turned and all but _ran_ over to the 'Gold dispenser' next.

With shaking hands -- oh god, he could still feel their eyes _drilling into him_ , he needed to _**make it stop** \--!!_ \-- he shoved his cash into the slot and hit the dispensing button hard, and the machine churned out a large golden coin for him. The man grabbed it up quickly, and then froze in place for a moment, as he realized that in order to get rid of this curse-thing he was going to have to…

The man turned back shakingly, and swallowed hard with al almost-audible gulping noise. He slowly forced himself to approach the altar, step by step, where the two cats continued to stare him down, to just _keep on staring him down_ , and… and he just barely managed to reach out with a trembling hand, to deposit the coin down into the serving bowl altar there.

Immediately, the tension in the air seemed to dissipate as the cats finally broke eye contact with the man. The larger cat turned its head back to its previous stone-still position (just a hair faster than before), while the kitten suddenly relaxed and... meowed cheerfully, going up to rub her face against his hand, which he had left on the altar in his panic. The man stiffened when the kitten brushed against his hand, but relaxed when... she suddenly seemed... just like any other friendly kitten that the man had ever seen, purring loudly as she nudged his hand with her head, begging for attention… just like any other normal cat would do, totally normally.

The man relaxed immediately. "Awww, its so soft!" he said almost thoughtlessly. He pretty much forgot his earlier fear almost completely, as he began scratching the kitten gently on its head. The kitten let out some really adorable mewls at this treatment, and the tourists all "Awww"ed at the whole scene, as the tension fully and finally broke.

Stan grinned. "Five dollars to appease the curse _and_ pet the kitten!" he crowed out next, pointing a finger up in the air before gesturing at the machine next. (Hey, he knew how to milk a crowd with any dragon-lady given ‘choice’.)

...And the entire crowd was immediately clamoring to get in line at the machine.

Stan laughed internally at all the money rolling in, and Mr. Mystery grinned externally at them all. Miz was basking in all the attention, purring as she nuzzled the tourists, while the demon-cat-kid sat his vigil, his appearance every bit that of the sacred animal who was worshipped by the ancients. After awhile, one of the tour group rubes got bold enough to approach the ‘scary status’, to try their hand at petting the kid, too. But before Stan had barely even had the thought of intervening…

...the demon-cat-kid just straight-up avoided the incoming hand as deftly as any real cat would, twisting away gracefully on his own and then huffing before flicking his tail at them. The rube stopped in place for a moment, trying to figure out how to pursue, but the kid sure didn’t; it wasn’t long before the demon-cat was firmly ensconced up in the rafters (by way of two jumps via a high shelf in-between), to resume his regal seated posture on one of the exposed wooden beams, to stare down at them all from above (...effectively avoiding any and all grasping hands for the entirety of time of the rest of that tour session).

The tour group finally left, having spent plenty of money for a chance to pet the cursed kitten. As soon as the door shut and everyone was gone, Miz started to giggle, purring as she rolled around on the altar. The kids, who had been standing nearby -- ready to intervene and smooth things over if there had been any trouble (or cat-grabbing) -- relaxed a bit and came over to the table outright. Mabel declared Miz’s purring ‘adorable’, while in the midst of petting her once again, and in the meantime Dipper was... having some sort of staring contest with the demon-cat-kid from the rafters (who looked like he didn’t want to come back down to the table-altar display right away when either of the niblings would be _that_ close to him nearby).

"Did we do good?" KittyMiz asked as Mabel continued to pet her on her fluffy round head. Stan let out a laugh as he pocketed the cash he’d scooped up from the altar.

"Yeah, you did good! Uh, we can discuss ways to change up the act for other groups too, though," Stan added as he thought it all a little bit through. "There’s always somethin’ you can get a little better at, and little variety never hurt nobody so no-one ever gets the same experience twice," because he was pretty damn sure he wasn’t wrong about getting a _bunch_ of repeat customers for _this_ one. Not if the sound of all those ‘awwwwww’s when the tour had been declared over, and he’d shooed all those rubes over into the gift shop area to close the door behind them, said anything to him at all. He had so many ideas for other ways to milk this for all the money he could get, too. It wasn’t like they could get a bunch of cat-related knick-knacks for the gift shop on such short notice, but he sure bet he could get Mabel and Melody to bake up some overpriced cat-shaped cookies to sell off at the door to the gift shop there, as a start. (--Hey, what did you want from him? Old habits died hard!)

\---

(Bonus)

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Kinda short, Jo and I have both been kinda exhausted this week, hoping to get more edited in time for next week.
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  I have been planning and foreshadowing this thing with -A Bill since _forever_ , I tell you! (I hope the payoff was worth it! *g*) Being able to write this with Mizuuma, with her MizBill in the mix, was both fun and funny as hell :D We were both hyped for _chapters_ about doing this *g* *g*
> 
> ...And then we got super-tired and were under the weather and overworked when we _finally_ got to this point. *lol* --Ah, well! At least it all still sort of worked out? :) And that is what is important ;) ;)
> 
> [Chapter 124](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/51823006) is an interlude chapter ("Chapter 98.6.1") back in MizBill's home dimensional set.


	38. Chapter 98.7: Blame Schrodinger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> [...there wasn't one? o_O;;  
> So let's call this... "The kids plot and plan, as best they can"]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 125 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/52066801). It was first posted on Dec 16, 2019.

\---

"So… how long are they going to be cats?" Dipper deadpanned as he watched Bill napping in a sunbeam, while Miz ran around pouncing on ants in the backyard.

Stan, who had decided after a few more tours, some overpriced cookies, and plenty of cash rolling in, to give the demons a break since they’d all needed some lunch, and the kid had been starting to get antsy (not during the "scare" show, but he’d definitely been showing it with the way he’d started half-pacing, half- _stalking_ the tourists from up in the rafters), shrugged at Dipper’s question, from where he was leaning up against the railing of the porch. "Kid went back into his body to eat earlier. So he don’t have to leave the cat body there for another few hours." Whether he could convince the kid to do the petting exhibit thing again or not was a completely different story. And that was assuming that Miz--

Stan blinked -- and Dipper winced -- as they heard a small growl, and they both turned to see that KittenMiz had sprouted antlers and scales as she went half-dragon and half-cat. She wasn’t just racing back and forth across the yard, stopping briefly to sniff or bite at some of the green-growing stuff here and there; not anymore. A rabbit had ventured past the woods into the yard, and now Miz was "playfully" _chasing it down_.

Stan and Dipper watched this quietly for a few moments.

...Yeah, nope. Dragon-lady _definitely_ needed to get some energy outta her system. ...So had Mabel, with the way she’d been enthusiastically "stalking" Miz with her camera around the yard. Looked a lot more like skipping and running, on both their parts. (Mabel had stopped and backed up a little bit closer to the porch, once Miz had started going after the rabbit. She was filming this; she’d stopped "just" taking pictures awhile ago now...)

Dipper twitched as he watched Miz try and pounce on the rabbit again, missing it by millimeters this time at most. It looked like she was _playing_ with it… except Miz wasn’t Mabel’s cat back home in Piedmont, and it looked a lot more like she was barely missing _on purpose_ and _enjoying_ its terror than... "Should we be letting her do that?"

"Eh, depends if she’s gonna eat it or not." Stan shrugged. Killing for fun wasn’t good. But killing for food was… well, at least it was a rabbit. He knew what Dipper might be thinking, but he’d seen cats and dogs and stuff go after prey like that when they were full and when they weren’t. Miz looked actually hungry there, even if she was enjoying it a lot more than Stan would’ve thought...

Stan glanced over at the kid, who was lazily lounging over on the porch, flicking his tail back and forth absently, head down, lying down all splayed out on his belly, just slit-eyed watching his little sister with his eyes lidded low. (...If the triangle demon liked playing with _people_ that way… would a working substitute for _that_ maybe be havin’ him go after a rabbit or two himself? ...Stan didn’t really think so, though. Kid didn’t look at all inclined to be jumping off the porch there and joining in; he was too relaxed for it, not watching it the same way.)

Dipper shivered as he watched Miz finally catch the hapless rabbit; she lashed out quickly with claws and teeth -- crunching down on its neck abruptly -- and held it until it's struggles ceased. That was disturbing enough, but then Miz somehow skinned it, tearing the fur off before unhinging her jaw to swallow it whole.

It was one thing to see her do something like this as a large dragon-cryptid of some kind, but she’d lost the dragon claws and stuff as she’d crunched down on the rabbit and it had struggled and struggled and stopped, and... seeing a _kitten_ do that, skin it and swallow it whole like that, was… well, it was _really_ messed up. It was like… like watching a dog eat something the way a snake would, and then just sit there in place with a big bump in the middle of it afterwards; it just looked out-and-out _wrong_. Dogs and cats weren’t cryptids, and Dipper had never thought he'd see something like this. But it was a stark reminder of how Miz wasn’t human, not anymore. A human wouldn’t think it was okay for a _kitten_ to just swallow some animal whole, bones and all -- and _definitely_ not in front of other humans who would maybe end up having nightmares about larger, grown-up _cats_ trying to _eat_ them later. Miz was a demon now, even if she had been human once.

Ford, who was leaning up against the corner of the railing, on the other side of the porch where Bill was lounging -- within the dream demon’s sight, arms-crossed, gun left in his room rather than on his hip, at Stan’s discretion (because apparently keeping it on him might be a little _too_ threatening, when both Ciphers were in bodies that barely came up past his ankles) -- was feeling a bit twitchy at watching this. (He wasn’t grossed-out or disgusted at her behavior like Dipper was; he’d seen far worse in his years on the other side of the portal, and he hardly thought of her as in any way human at-present. What he _was_ was cautious of was the small predator that could change characteristics -- such as the size of their claws and teeth and antlers -- at will, so easily and fluidly. ~~Not least of which because he’d seen Shifty do similar when--~~ )

"How big of a thing can you swallow?" Stan called out to Miz, thinking about the two kids standing nearby him. At this point, he was hoping that… "Bigger than a breadbox?", was _not_ what she ended up saying. Probably give the kids nightmares if they thought of her being able to swallow small _people_ , and whatnot. ...And if she _could_ , now would be a really good time to have her remember and reiterate upon her promise not to eat anybody sentient or sapient or whatever. (And Ford turned his head and stared at his brother in abject horror, under the wrong impression and thinking that Stan might be wanting to know because he was contemplating what other acts he could ask the man-eater to perform for the Shack's attractions, of all things!)

Miz wiggled. "Dunno. I haven't really checked. But my mouth isn’t that big right now. So I don’t think I’d be able to fit anything larger than me," she responded as she cleaned off the tuffs of fur from her paws and mouth. Frankly, she’d swallowed it whole because there wouldn’t be any blood that way, she thought it would be less graphic and less scary to eat it like so. Unlike the more fun way to eat which would be tearing the animal into strips and savoring each bite. "And I won’t eat any people," she added. "If that was what you were wondering. Eating people is… uncomfortable, mostly. I don’t like doing it."

"Yeah," Stan said, "And in that other dimension, you talked about not eating people unless they straight-up told you they wanted you to. And that you don’t like eating hair. Right?" he prompted her, as he glanced over at Ford. "And we know you get stuff wrong sometimes, just like the kid does, so if anybody _does_ try and tell you that here, figure you’d be better off comin’ to me and letting me make sure that that’s all on the up-and-up first, before goin’ off and doin’ anything like that, okay?"

Miz rolled over onto her back and purred adorably. "Okay. I won’t eat anyone here, just in case they didn’t actually mean it the way it sounded to me," she agreed, wiggling her little limbs in the air as Mabel made her way over and started rubbing her belly. (Mabel had been a little pale at the rabbit death and subsequent consumption, but she’d seen all sorts of documentaries on snakes doing that stuff before, so… she hadn’t been _too_ horrified at it like Dipper had been. Dipper still had that thing about all those alien snake people or whatever going; she knew snakes were still kind of a touchy subject for him. She was definitely relieved to hear Miz tell them that she wouldn’t eat any people _at all_ now, not even if they straight-up asked her to.)

"Good!" Mabel told her, as she petted her and rubbed her stomach -- because positive reinforcement was a thing! "Grunkle Ford’s still kinda upset about the body-eating you did last time, so not doing that while you’re here’s a really good thing."

Miz pouted. "Seb told me to get rid of it. And there was no soul inside, it was an empty vessel."

"But he didn’t know that," Mabel chided her. "You know that, right? He got _really_ scared!"

"...Yeah." Her ears drooped and then she looked almost chastised. "...I might have wanted to play a little prank on Ford, I didn’t know he’d react _that_ badly though." She flipped over onto her stomach and tucked her tail in. "I’m sorry for my prank not being as funny as I thought it would be."

Mabel sighed. "You should really tell Grunkle Ford that, you know, if you mean it." She glanced over at said grunkle. "...Or maybe tell Grunkle Stan to tell Grunkle Ford for you. When Grunkle Ford isn’t around... to hear you ask him to tell him for you." That would probably work out better. Grunkle Ford still got mad whenever she said stuff like that even in front of him.

Miz glanced over as well before she got to her feet and toddled over to Stan, peering up at him from where he was standing on the porch, staying in the grass a step down and away from him herself. "Um… mister Stan. Can you tell that Stanford that I’m sorry I scared him way back when, when I ate Seb’s vessel? I was trying to prank him, but it didn’t end up funny." To everyone else, Miz hadn’t said anything at all, just meowed; her words being projected to Stan alone.

"What was that?" Ford said, frowning over at the man-eater suspiciously. She hadn’t been meowing at anybody up until then, so why was she--

"Yeah, maybe later," Ford heard Stan tell her, and then glance over at him. "Nothin’ to get all worked up over, Ford. Forget it." At Ford’s continuing frown, Stan sighed and added, "Dragon-lady just asked me somethin’ she don’t want to screw up sayin’ out loud in front of you herself. Like I _asked_ her to," Stan emphasized.

Ford was still frowning at this, but the character of it changed slightly -- high suspicion became a slightly more disgruntled look. (Stan figured that was the best he could do just then. Stan squatted down, reached down, and -- slowly, he knew the kid was watching him like a hawk, here -- petted Miz a bit, scratching her on the head gently, and then behind the ears, before pulling his fingers away slightly and ticking his chin back at the open yard slightly.)

Satisfied that she’d done what Mabel had asked (and without Ford or anybody else getting super-mad at her even!), Miz bounced back into the yard to play some more, running around and tumbling across the grass, getting back to burning off the hyper energy she had inside. All that worship from the tourists was buzzing under her skin -- it felt _great!!!_ , but this vessel was so very small, she needed to use it up before she caught _fire_ or something.

After awhile, Miz thought of something she thought was fun and dashed off towards the woods (which alarmed Bill for a moment, who leapt to his feet and turned towards in the direction she’d run off) before coming back with a small stick in her mouth and practically dropping it to the ground right in front of Mabel’s feet. ...And, well, that got Mabel going all right; she finally put the phone away for good and started throwing the small stick for her to play fetch. It was more of a dog thing, but Miz liked playing with her. At a bit of jumping-prompting from Miz, Mabel even began throwing it high into the air as Miz leapt for it, once again growing dragon scales as her energy churned and shifted her vessel to allow for such high jumps.

Dipper still looked a bit upset at all this, almost squirming in place a bit where he sat as he watched Miz go through yet another transformation again. He got back to glancing up and down between this, and writing in his journal again, though. Because somebody ought to be cataloguing all this, and as much as he wanted to intervene and tell Mabel to stop because this _really_ didn’t feel right to him, he knew she was having too much fun to stop anyway. He was probably just being paranoid about things; it had finally occurred to him that the reason he wasn’t liking what Miz was doing here was because she wasn’t sticking to just one form -- it reminded him _waaay_ too much of the shapeshifter, and... And Grunkle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford were _right there_. They wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Mabel. Especially not from Miz. Dipper forced himself to take a deep breath.

Soos came out to the porch after awhile, and Dipper saw Grunkle Stan basically wave him off, back in to the Shack (with a salute and a "Sure thing, Mr. Pines!" from Soos), then slump a little bit in place and loosen his tie. ...So they weren’t gonna be doing the cat exhibit thing again, and Soos was going to take over the tours for the rest of the day as Mr. Mystery again. Okay. That was probably a good thing. Dipper was pretty sure that Miz wasn’t gonna be up for any more sitting still again anytime soon. So, a good call there. ...Huh. Guess Grunkle Stan really wasn’t pushing it with her. That was weird. He usually pushed things as hard as he could when he was making that much money...

So Dipper sat where he was on the porch, taking notes, and Mabel kept on running around the yard with her own store of boundless energy, playing fetch with Miz (with an old frisbee she had a lightbulb moment over and ran over to go pull out of the bushes next), while Ford and Stan watched from the porch, and Bill watched all of the rest of them, too. And this was how things generally progressed for the rest of the afternoon, until a little after the Shack’s closing time finally hit.

...at which point Miz finally seemed so start running out of steam, and ended up trotting back over to the porch, to slump down under it, right below where Bill was still sitting, all sprawled out, head-down, and breathing on his own paws quite calmly. Ford _did_ let out an involuntary snort when he saw Bill’s tail twitch absently, Bill almost half-asleep where he was laid out, draped down almost right in front of Miz’s nose, and…

\--Miz immediately batted at Bill’s tail, which had the older "cat" blinking his eyes open and pulling it up again (almost reflexively?) before dropping it. (Ford blinked at this, because _that_ was rather odd. Bill didn’t have human reflexes; not really. He’d had to ‘work at’ those with Stan. But _that_ motion had looked rather natural--)

But when Miz started _grabbing_ at it with her little paws as he twitched it back and forth, with something of a ‘what the heck was _that?!_ ’ eyeball-look… Ford couldn’t help but let out a snort, as he watched the older demon finally shove his head over the side of the porch and give the younger demon a _very_ put-upon look…

...but Bill didn’t actually, actively stop her from doing it. He didn’t actually pull his tail up to the porch until several more battings later, and even _then_ he didn’t turn around and snap at her for it, for pouncing up to the porch herself and rather _continuing_ to...

And Mabel got it all on her phone and was texting it off to pretty much everyone that she knew. Which Dipper saw, and it left her brother groaning.

Dipper wasn’t sure what his life even _was_ anymore.

\---

"...So the demons are _actual_ cats now." Pacifica deadpanned as she showed Dipper the footage from her phone (having received all the texts from Mabel documenting the ‘adorable’ occasion). She was following Dipper and Melody around as they walked through the grocery store, the closest they could get to a ‘private visit’ with Dipper and Mabel still on Mr, Pines’ ‘must be babysat at all times outside the Shack’ supervision-punishment-thing. (She didn’t particularly appreciate the sentiment, given how it was making life that much more difficult for her, but at least the Pines twins weren’t stuck at the Shack for the duration anymore.) Dipper had used the excuse of going out with Melody to buy some supplies to go visit her (which Mr. Pines had, for once, actually okayed), while Mabel stayed at the shack to keep the demons occupied. Luckily, Melody also seemed perfectly fine with this arrangement, as Dipper had checked for Pacifica in advance on the other side of his texting as she’d requested.

Dipper groaned at the footage in front of him. "Yeah."

Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "...And? What have you learned from this?" Because _she’d_ gotten quite a lot, and she had a whole _list_ of questions she wanted to ask him, better discussed in-person. --Such as, _why_ was the demon lying there on the porch looking so very calm? Had he been doing that the whole time? Because any time he showed up in the frame, he was in the same spot, lying there, _not doing anything_. And Pacifica remembered Weirdmageddon; oh, how she could not. That demon had acted anything _but_ calm and relaxed and chill at any point during it; he’d been practically bouncing off the walls doing whatever he wanted with a completely manic and crazy energy about him, instead. So what the hell was going on there? Not to mention that the two of them had apparently been one of the Shack attractions?! Hadn’t the demon been mostly _avoiding_ most people in town up until this point? Hadn’t that been _the whole point_ of what Mr. Pines and Dr. Pines had been trying to do? But Mabel had texted an off-hand comment that had made it sound like what Mr. Pines was _actually_ trying to do was--

"That Mabel _really_ can’t resist a cat," Dipper deadpanned back, interrupting Pacifica’s line of thought. Pacifica let out a little huff at this; she didn’t like that Dipper didn’t seem to be taking this (or her) seriously. "Also, that Bill’s surprisingly good at being a cat." Dipper added, pretty annoyed at this fact. "If he wasn’t talking to people, and didn’t have the whole blue fur thing going, I’m pretty sure he could run off and we would never find him." And it was clear that that worried Dipper a little bit.

Meanwhile, Melody was politely giving them some space to have their conversation, keeping herself a little ways down the aisle looking through various fruits. She could still see them both, but couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. (She knew how frustrating it must be for the twins to be babysat like this, and she certainly wasn’t trying to be some kind of gulag jailer, listening in on all of their private conversations. As long as they were following the letter of the law Mr. Pines had laid out, she was fine with what they did. She knew Mr. Pines only wanted someone to be ready to look out for them if they got into any trouble, and not to go running off into trouble all over again. She’d told Dipper that, and they’d worked out their line-of-sight deal; he stayed within sight and didn’t go running off, and she didn’t have to look over his shoulder all the time, breathing down his neck.) And that was good enough for her. It let her concentrate on other things, like what she was buying. Because now that they knew more about what Bill could and couldn’t eat, she knew what to look for.

Melody had a feeling that it would be good to stock up on a few more things that Bill could eat, both as a cat and a ‘human-ish person’, since Bill still had to return to his human-ish body to eat, to keep it nourished. But she’d asked him the first question that had come to mind upon hearing about that, and he’d told her in an almost-aside murmur that he _could_ eat plenty of other things in a ‘cat vessel’ like that one; anything a cat could eat, he’d confirmed to her, straightforward but quietly, when she’d asked it of him. (And he’d looked about as surprised and then pleased at her response to _that_ as most cats did when they got a surprise petting in passing. So she figured she was on the right track for Mr. Pines there...)

Pacifica frowned slightly at Dipper’s comment about ‘losing Bill’ that easily. But it also reminded her of something, as she looked down at the video that was still playing on her phone, as she watched as Miz transformed on-camera as she jumped after… a common stick. Because seeing this, and hearing _that_ from Dipper, left her coming back to the thought that she'd first gotten from Susan, when she’d talked to her about the two demons. About how Susan had called Bill a cat, but called _Miz_ a **dragon** who wanted to _be_ a cat but should stop _pretending_ to be one, and...

...well, looking at the cat-dragon creature that Mabel was playing with in the recording that was playing on her phone, it did seem like Miz's dragon-ness was leaking out through and into the cat body even when she was ‘pretending’ to be an actual cat, whenever the younger demon was paying too much attention to something she was _pouncing_ at, rather than… staying calm enough to act _only_ excited about everything going on around her? (Or was she doing it on purpose?) ...Like when Mabel began wiggling some string at Miz, who had then pounced at it. Or the stick. Or the frisbee. Or the _rabbit_. (Ew. Pacifica let out a huff at this, though what she _really_ wanted to do was sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose. That would ruin her makeup, though.) This all reminded her of that thing with the flying robots Bill had been moving around in that other video that the twins had sent her. While Miz hadn’t gone ‘dragon’ on them _that_ time, despite looking like she was having fun pouncing at all sorts of things while she was _supposedly_ supposed to be acting human _then_...

And yet in this video, the younger demon had a long snake-like tail now, that she was whipping back and forth as she played. --So what was different between the last time and _this_ one? Did it have to do with being inside the Shack’s barrier versus being outside in the yard? Why didn’t Dipper question these kind of things?

"Well, he _does_ have the whole ‘blue fur thing’ going," Pacifica informed Dipper dryly, "So thank goodness for that." She let out a sigh. "Mabel _knows_ that Miz isn’t a cat, right?" Pacifica pointed out, feeling more than a little exasperated with her friend at this point.

Dipper sighed himself. "She knows that. Yeah. But you know Mabel. Miz _looks_ like one right now, so Mabel wants to play with her." He watched Pacifica roll her eyes at this, and Dipper privately wondered if getting Mabel to play with her had actually been Miz's plan all along. (Kind of like how he’d had trouble not treating her like a normal cryptid when she’d been a dragon, when they’d been stuck in that other dimension. Mabel had been better about it before than even he had been, just like she was with Bill; Dipper was starting to think that his sister was just better at wrangling demons than he was, period, hands-down, just like she was with everyone _else_ who wasn’t a demon or an out-and-out jerk. But when Miz had started doing the whole kitten thing...)

"...and, Miz is a dragon." Dipper blinked, because had Pacifica just phrased that like it was almost a question? Dipper nodded at her.

"Yeah, Miz is a dragon. Grunkle Stan even calls her ‘dragon-lady’ sometimes," Dipper told her, and… Oh right, Dr. Pines had mentioned that to her before, back at the mansion, too. But Pacifica hadn't thought he’d meant it _literally_. --Yes, there had been those pictures that Mabel had taken of her looking like a dragon in that other dimension, but... Wait, more to the point--

"Dipper, what _is_ a dragon?" Pacifica asked him. Yes, she'd done some research on the subject, but it was mostly folklore and fairytales. She didn't know how much of it might actually be real or not, or even be based in any fact at all, so when it came to the actual real life magical definition for dragons…

Dipper gave her a weird look. "You don't know what a dragon is?"

Pacifica barely stifled (most of) her irritation with him. "I know the basics. I’m not writing a fantasy novel, here; I'm asking about what _real_ dragons are. --What are they? What are they like?" Pacifica clarified to him. Because her research into dragons, both western and eastern had been… _mixed_ , to say the least. (And she was still rather disturbed by a note she’d found about how Chinese dragons in particular were generally written about in legends as being [almost exclusively attracted to older men](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LGBT_themes_in_Chinese_mythology)…which had reminded her of how Miz apparently had a minor crush on Dr. Pines, so saith the Mabel. Via text. _Frequently_.) "Like, is Miz just some fire-breathing lizard? Or a force of nature given form?" Or a _minor god_ , like some sources claimed? Which had only gotten that much more confusing and worrying, once she’d begun connecting that to the ancient Egyptian worship of cats, and the Egyptian pyramids, and what Bill Cipher _and his own floating pyramid_ had actually looked like...

Dipper paused. "I’m not really sure. The journals never really talked about dragons, probably because there aren’t any here in Gravity Falls, but I think Great-Uncle Ford knows more." Pacifica nodded, and closed out the video on her phone to make a note to herself, a reminder to ask Dr. Pines about that later (in front of the demon, if at all possible, because she’d be damned if she was going to sneak around about talking with _him_ , after what had happened in the-- _no_ , no, that was a stupid and terrible idea, and probably _exactly what the demon **wanted** her to do_\--).

While she was in the middle of a little deep breathing, trying to calm her unmistakable (and unhelpful) rage down, Dipper ended up accidentally helping her out with a good distraction from her earlier thought, by opening his own journal and flipping it around to hand it to her, forcing her to put away her phone for the moment.

"This isn’t on dragons," Dipper prefaced this with, as he handed his open journal over, "But here are some of my own observations about Miz, so far." He held it out to her, and he didn’t have to wait long before Pacifica took it from him and started reading it. He couldn’t help but give her a small, lopsided and slightly embarrassed smile, as he saw her blink at seeing the words ‘A study on Miz Cipher’ written across the top of the page where he’d gone and opened it for her.

There were sketches of Miz in both her human and ‘dragon’ forms, and not that badly drawn. There was a new sketch of the kitten form that Dipper had to have done just that afternoon, and a few of the different kitten-dragon forms as well, travelling across the bottom of the next page. Pacifica blinked at them. (She _still_ thought Miz looked like a weird snake as a dragon. The demon didn't have wings, which lent to the idea that she was an eastern dragon, if there was anything at all to the legends. She also noted how Dipper had left space for potentially a few more forms, and turned to the next page.) There were notes about how Miz loved to eat. Where and how she liked to be petted, in both dragon and cat form. How Miz had incredibly strong magic and could create things out of almost nothing, make plants grow, shape plants into different forms (something about a piano?) and was both telepathic and (apparently also) empathic (though Pacifica had no idea what the latter might refer to -- she inferred that maybe it was something like the ability to telepathically send emotions, rather than thoughts? If it was, _that_ would be horrifically dangerous in close-quarters with a large group of people nearby...).

Pacifica read on about how Miz said she could make ‘deals’ with people just like Bill could, but hadn’t outright made one with anyone _here_ yet. There was a large list of warnings, with a triple-underlined part about how Miz was afraid of getting into or being too near any cars, and would also freak out if she was grabbed by her wrists, with a warning to never attempt to do such a thing. (Pacifica had narrowed her eyes at this, expecting to read something about how Bill would do something terrible to them all, next. But instead, Dipper had wrote that the reason that nobody should do it was because Miz’s magic went out of control whenever she was scared or ended up panicked. And that was just _terrifying_ to consider. Because if Dipper had written _that_ instead of a warning about Bill, knowing full well what Bill was like even when he _wasn’t_ angry and hell-bent on tearing up the town, then… exactly how bad would Miz’s powers going out of control have to be, to be worse even than _that?_ Pacifica remembered how Miz had talked about her powers needing to be kept in check constantly, during the sleepover, but hadn’t thought it was _that_ serious, or known about the cars thing. ...She’d have to keep this in mind, but only as a last resort. The younger demon could be lying, and who knew if it would actually work on Bill himself. She didn’t remember the demon being scared of anything; he’d seemed to take nothing seriously during that whole Weirdmageddon thing he’d had going on. ...And he’d _driven away_ through the sky in a car, after rearranging her own father’s face. Pacifica highly doubted that the demon had a problem with cars.)

Weirdly, there was also a note from Dipper about how when Bill had possessed his body, he had put on a seatbelt when he was in a car. That… was… (Pacifica pulled in a breath. ...Right. Demonic possession. Apparently this was a thing... which had happened to Dipper... by Bill… _at some point._ Got it.) Pacifica read through the page some more and paused at the… transcript that was written there? It appeared Dipper had written down a conversation that Miz had had… _with herself?_ She raised her incredulous gaze up to meet the other teenager’s eyes, and Dipper shrugged at her. "I… recorded it on the phone, if you wanna watch?"

"I would." Because she couldn’t possibly be reading this right, and context was _everything_ in these matters. Pacifica held out her hand imperiously for the twins’ shared phone.

The video was taken from behind the door frame, peeking out at Miz. (Okay. Dipper must have been sitting at the base of the stairs. She recognized that part of the house from when she’d been there for a few days during Weirdmageddon.)

_"-ello dino skull~"_ Miz said to the dinosaur skull that Stan kept in the living room. Miz was casually wiping the dirt and dust away from the stairs, swiping at it with her paws and somehow shifting it out and away from the stairs, gathering them into a pile at the base. **"Hello Miz.** Miz responded to herself, as the dino skull, shifting her voice in pitch. _"What are you doing today dino skull?_ "Oh you know, just lying around." "Doesn’t that get boring?" **"Well, it’s not like I can do much about that, you know? What with being dead and all."** "Awww… that’s unfortunate." Miz nodded. **"Can’t you help me?" the ‘dino skull’ pleaded.** Miz frowned. _"Help with what?"_ **"Bring me back. Set me freee~"** Miz wiggled. _"I… don’t think I’m allowed to do that."_ **"Sure you can! Just reanimate me."** Miz shifted around in place, looking uncomfortable. _"But I wouldn’t be able to bring you back as ‘you’ anyway. You won’t be the same."_ **"So what? At least I’d be alive. Anything is better than being dead here, having my body used for decoration."** Miz seemed very uncomfortable now. _"I… can’t…"_ She whispered. Then, louder, she declared _"I don’t wanna talk to you anymore. You’re not fun!"_ before she scrambled to her paws back up the stairs.

The video cut off not long after that. Pacifica lifted her eyes from the phone screen and stared over at Dipper.

"...Did she know you were there?" Pacifica asked first. Because this had looked even worse than the transcript had been. She’d thought that she must have been missing something, and yet...

Dipper shrugged. "I don’t know. But… I’ve actually seen her talk to herself like that a few times. Once when she was out in the yard, talking to the ants? I was in my room and watching from my window, don’t think she knew I was there. There was another time she did it, while she was cleaning the kitchen, after Grunkle Stan said she was allowed to clean if she wanted to. I think she was talking to the sink." Dipper rubbed his arm, looking pretty uncomfortable. "I didn’t get to record those ones though, or really hear what she was saying; Mabel had her phone at the time, and I was too far away, anyway." (Right, Dipper considered it to be his sister’s phone; even though Mabel had freely and happily admitted to Pacifica when she’d asked that they were supposed to be sharing it.) "But she does seem to just… talk _at_ and _as_ things, sometimes."

"So she really _is_ crazy," Pacifica deadpanned. _Great_. She’d known the demon was nuts, but the fact that his sister was apparently _talking to random objects like they can talk back to you_ nuts, was...

Dipper shrugged. "They both are." (Pacifica stiffened at this.) "I have a theory that all demons are probably crazy in some way." Oh, this was bad. Did Dipper even realize how bad this was?

Pacifica frowned down at the phone and Dipper’s journal, trying to remain calm as she tried to confirm from him... "So, Miz talks to inanimate objects and… ants?"

"I think she’d talk to anything, if bored enough." Dipper pointed out. "The only real issue is what'll happen if the thing she's talking to actually manages to _convince_ her to do something."

"Well, duh," Pacifica said. For a moment there, she’d been worried that he hadn’t realized it. She had no idea how he was remaining so calm about it all, though. ...And given what Miz thought things like Stan’s dinosaur skull decoration apparently wanted from her, when Miz was left to her own devices without anyone else in the same room with her to talk to, Pacifica suddenly realized exactly why Dipper and Mabel were so worried about Miz getting bored.

And now for the next question, which she _really_ hoped wasn’t going to end up being what she was worried it might end up being. "Where was Bill when all this was going on?" Pacifica asked him. Because if Bill had been _left alone_ to his own devices, too…

Dipper sighed. "Asleep, probably. --No, really," he told her, at her look of disbelief. "Bill sleeps a lot. And I mean _a lot_. I think Miz gets bored when she’s awake and he’s not, without him." Dipper frowned in thought. "I don’t think Miz sleeps as much as Bill does. --Not that she doesn’t get enough sleep," Dipper rushed to assure her, "I’m pretty sure Grunnkle Stan would’ve said something if she was doing that, but…" Dipepr frowned for a moment. "I think if Miz wasn’t here, Bill would just go back to spending most of the day sleeping, again. He used to do that, before she came. Even if he didn’t freaking _admit_ that that was what he was doing, out on the picnic tables outside; those aren’t meant for sleeping on," Dipper complained. And what was worse to him was that the crazy demon would never _admit_ that was what he was doing out there when he did it, and Grunkle Stan _really_ didn’t want any of them calling Bill out on it, for some reason. And it was just _stupid_. The dumb dorito chip did it every time; he went out there, he lay down on top of it, and he fell asleep. ...And then he tried to act like he’d just been ‘thinking’ or something, instead of falling asleep, later.

And for some reason, this had Pacifica staring at him like she’d never heard of people falling asleep outside before. "He does _what?_ " she asked him.

Dipper let out a sigh of frustration. "Bill sleeps _a lot_. The dumb dorito can spend _hours_ just sitting or lying down doing nothing. He just stares up at the ceiling, says he’s doing a whole bunch of thinking, but I swear he just passes out and doesn’t do anything."

"He’s thinking? Scheming?" Pacifica pressed him.

"No," Dipper said, "He’s _sleeping_."

"And you’ve never seen Bill talking to himself, or any other inanimate objects," Pacifica asked him next, and--

\--Dipper paused at that, because _what?_ "Uh, no," he told her, feeling a little weirded out all of a sudden. "I don’t think so. But… Miz definitely does," he told her, starting to see what Pacifica might be looking for, here. Her questions today had definitely had a pattern to them so far, "And… I mean, sometimes it seems like Miz is just the _opposite_ of Bill, almost. Grunkle Stan called it, like, ‘looking into a funhouse mirror’," And Dipper almost also told her right then about how Grunkle Stan had _also_ said that sometimes, a lot of times, Bill was ‘mirroring’ _them_ \-- whatever _that_ meant. But Dipper didn’t really get it, and he’d gotten kind of made at Grunkle Stan for saying it -- because none of them were like Bill at all. He seriously doubted that Pacifica would go along with something that their Grunkle Stan had said just like that, let alone something made that little sense to anybody. And there was just no way that Bill was really going to leave them alone, just as long as they _‘don’t do anything to the kid that you don’t want him doing to you’_ , anyway. So he didn’t even bother to try telling her that. He didn’t want her thinking he was trying to insult her, or anything. That would just be stupid.

"Bill just wants to lie down and do nothing all the time," Dipper continued. "But Miz is completely different. It’s like she gets all stir crazy or something, and needs to actually get up and do something, or she’ll practically explode." Which was a little more like Mabel, kind of.

(Dipper didn’t realize how on the nose he was about Miz exploding. If he’d known, he’d have been way more worried. Having a literal nuclear bomb walking around nearby was a terrifying thought.)

Even Dipper didn’t exactly like sitting and doing nothing for that long, either; and he meant actually _nothing_ \-- no reading any books, no writing in his journal, no staring at his conspiracy wall, nothing. His thoughts started going in circles when he did that, and he always started feeling really bad and anxious, worried, and maybe kind of a little paranoid. (--Not that that happened very often; it usually only happened on long car trips, if he forgot to bring a second book with him or didn’t have a game to play. But even then, he could pretty much always count on Mabel to be doing something nearby, to notice and speak up and say something, to help talk him out of whatever.)

(It was one thing if he was working on a problem, a cipher or a code, or reading a book or something, but just… lying down and doing nothing, really? Just… ‘thinking about stuff’ while _not_ writing his thoughts down, and trying _not_ to fall asleep from boredom, or get up and start pacing from stress? He could barely understand how most people could do any real _thinking_ without writing things down!)

And while Dipper was lost in his own thoughts, unaware of Dipper’s internal monologue, Pacifica’s own thoughts were stuck on the idea of how different these ‘Bill CIpher’s really were from each other, rather than similar. Sleeping versus active. Different kinds of crazy. ...And were they anything like the differences between a cat and a dragon, or not? Because cats did seem to nap a lot, like Dipper said that Bill was doing. But... were dragons less likely to sleep as much... because they had to watch out for people trying to steal their treasure, or something? Pacifica internally grimaced at this, because she didn’t really like the idea of maybe having to ‘cat sit’ Susan’s cats for her again sometime, to try and figure this one out. And she also felt like she was starting to take this animal metaphor way too far, or too seriously. Maybe both.

"Okay, so, what’s our plan on this going forward?" Pacifica asked of Dipper next.

"Miz shouldn't be left unsupervised," Dipper told her promptly, though he didn’t feel too happy about it. "She gets bored if there’s nothing to do around the Shack, or people that she can interact with." The problem was, she said really horrible stuff when anybody talked with her for too long, so it wasn’t like Dipper or Mabel could do it. (Dipper really didn’t know how Mabel kept on talking to Miz or Bill as much as she did without losing it completely.) And Great-Uncle Ford was out, because there was no way any of them were going to let Miz do anything like _that_ to him, again. Once out in the forest had been enough, and she was still plenty terrible enough at mealtimes. "...Maybe we can get her to help Melody out in the gift shop, to sit with her more." Dipper wasn’t all that sure that they could get Miz even wanting to do that, though, because it wasn’t like he or Mabel had ever found it fun to sit out there with Wendy, even with it being _Wendy_ , and...

Dipper paused for a moment, when that thought suddenly sparked something else. "She might be feeling pent up, restless, being stuck at the Shack all the time," he realized. He and Mabel being grounded for a week had been annoying for him, but really _really_ bad for Mabel. They were both used to just coming and going whenever they wanted -- okay, well, whenever they could get out of doing work for the Shack like they’d had to do all throughout last summer every day the Shack was open, anyway. But Mabel hadn’t stayed inside all the time even during those ‘forced’ work hours last summer; sometimes she’d either ‘escape!!’ and run around indoors or outdoors or wherever, or she’d roll around on the floor of the gift shop, or something. But with this whole ‘babysitting’ thing, they’d had to not only stay inside most of the time and not go into town or the woods exploring, they’d also had to have somebody in the same room as they were… And since Melody had been the one watching them most of the time, and she’d been the one manning the gift shop… they couldn’t even go out in the yard or just sit out on the porch there together, because Melody had had to stay indoors manning the cash register. And Grunkle Stan had either been watching the demons or cooking stuff mostly, so unless the demons were upstairs he hadn’t been able to ‘tap in’ as another babysitter for them, and Grunkle Stan hadn’t been all that free all that often. And Great-Uncle Ford could take one of them at a time places, but not both of them, but he’d spent most of his time down in his basement labs, working, and neither of them had wanted to interrupt him for something that stupid and silly-sounding and not nearly as serious or as important as trying to figure out how in the heck to finally stop Bill for good. ...Which meant he and Mabel had had to spend more of that time indoors, in the gift shop of the Shack, with Melody. Which meant they’d had to stay inside almost all of the time, for the entire week. And being forced to stay in the Shack 24/7 had been… stifling. And they had complained about it a lot at first, but Grunkle Stan hadn’t given in.

...And Bill didn’t want Miz being in the same room as Grunkle Stan without him. Dipper remembered that first morning that she’d been there. Bill had practically tossed himself down the stairs, looking for her. He’d seemed almost _scared_ , frantically searching for her until he’d found out where she was. And then he’d straight-up said out loud that he didn’t want her being in the same room as Grunkle Stan without him; he hadn’t seemed like he was lying about wanting her to stick to that, either. Dipper didn’t know _why_ the dumb dorito had demanded that, but he was. Maybe it had something to do with the whole ‘we adopted each other’ thing? And that had just been the _first day_ that they’d started being all officially brother and sister with each other; Grunkle Stan had said that they’d only ‘decided on that’ just the afternoon before. But after that, Miz had always stayed close to Bill; as far as Dipper knew, she barely left Bill’s sight while the older demon was awake, other than stuff like the sleepover, and Bill had stayed in the same room as Miz every chance that he got. The number of times that Miz had come downstairs without Bill right there with her had been… not a lot. Dipper knew Great-Uncle Ford had a more accurate count, but Dipper was pretty sure that she didn’t leave the attic often when Bill was asleep, and she definitely never went too far away. And Bill had only ever left Miz’s side when he had to deal with his body’s needs (like the bathroom, or getting something to drink from the kitchen), and even then it was never more than a few minutes -- assuming that Miz didn’t just follow him into the hallway or kitchen, to wait for him there.

Bill still went outside sometimes, but he’d stopped falling asleep out on the picnic tables while ‘his sister’ was here, from day one. And Dipper _still_ didn’t know why that had changed. The last time he had talked to Great-Uncle Ford about it, he’d said it was because Bill was being smart and didn’t actually trust Miz because she was a demon, that sleeping under the unicorn hair barrier was helping to keep Bill safe from her doing something to him in his sleep. But that didn’t make sense to Dipper, knowing what he knew now. Bill’s room up in the attic wasn’t ‘under the barrier’ in the same way as the rest of the Shack was; he could do whatever magic he wanted up there. And the two of them had slept together, right next to each other, all the time when they were all in that other dimension with the younger Stans. No mystic barrier there. So that couldn’t have been the reason. Dipper shelved that thought for now, getting back on track.

Anyway, Miz was practically getting ‘big-brother’ _stalked_ by Bill, now that Dipper thought about it, and Miz hadn’t _complained_ about that, or about being indoors with Bill so much of the time, not aloud like he and Mabel had done. And sure, Bill snuck out of the Shack sometimes, and sometimes he even said it straight-out in front of all of them during breakfast, but that didn’t mean that they were going outside together very often. It also didn’t mean Miz hadn’t been feeling cooped up and understimulated most of the time that she’d been here so far. Miz _had_ seemed really excited that time Stan had said he was going to take her and Bill into town, and he and Mabel had seen how much happier that Miz had seemed after their grunkle and great-uncle had taken the two demons out shopping to buy a bunch of meat and supplies at someplace or another in the area.

Heck, Miz had gone out to the lake the other day with Bill, and eaten trash and _liked_ it (though Dipper tried not to think about that), and she’d been nothing but happy when they’d both gotten back. So clearly she _did_ want to go outside, leave the house, and do stuff around other people.

"Maybe… getting Miz outside more often…?" Dipper said, but he was already grimacing as he said it. Because yes, Miz could sort-of pull off ‘being human’ in a crowd, sure… as long as she didn’t have to talk to anybody, and didn’t get all too excited. Or crowded by strangers. Or stared at too much by said crowd of strangers. Which meant she didn’t actually last very long before something went wrong and Grunkle Stan had had to step in, in that other dimension. The longest that Miz had gone around other people so far without stuff going weird had been today, with her... "...as a _cat_ , maybe?" Dipper said slowly, trying not to wince as he said it. "Might keep the damage down a little, at least."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Pacifica told him dryly, and Dipper sighed.

Yeah, he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Because Miz didn’t exactly stay a cat, even when she was trying to be one, for starters. And she liked running around in the yard, outside the barrier. Dipper hadn’t missed how Great-Uncle Ford hadn’t had his gun on him, _or_ how he’d kept shooting looks at Grunkle Stan every time he’d started going to reach for it. And if Great-Uncle Ford had seen something that was that off, that many times? And he’d thought it was important enough to still be at least watching her out there, in person, even without having his gun on him to be able to do something about it when she did something wrong, because Grunkle Stan must’ve said something to him about it? Then that meant that even having her run around outside probably really wasn’t a good idea at all. And if Grunkle Stan took Miz out into town again...

...Bill would go with her again, too. Bill _really_ didn’t like going into town, or interacting with any of the tourists either, so that was just asking for trouble. ...Which reminded him. "Miz really likes being around people, but I’m starting to think that Bill doesn’t actually like being around other people at all," Dipper told her. "I mean, he talks to us, but he doesn’t exactly go looking for us to talk to us. He only really talks to us if we’re in the same room as him." Dipper frowned. "I can count on one hand… okay, maybe two hands. But, the number of times he’s walked into a room _looking_ for us is…" Dipper’s frown deepened. "I know we kind of have to see him at mealtimes, but other than that… almost every time he’s actually gone looking for us to say something has been when he was taking Mabel out to the spaceship." And that was weird, because before Weirdmageddon? He’d seemed to love doing so, just out-and-out taunting them whenever he could.

But now Bill almost ignored them when they were in the same room as them. ...Okay, not _really_ , but the more that Grunkle Stan said he was working things out on the ‘mental attack’ stuff, the less Bill talked to any of them _at all_...

...unless they started talking to him first. Dipper snorted. Figured. _Of course_ the dumb demon wouldn’t be able to think of anything nice to say at all to any of them. It wasn’t like he was even trying to get along with any of them, really. And it wasn’t like he was ever going to say ‘I’m sorry’ or apologize for anything that he’d done to any of them ever at all.

And that was kind of the whole problem, right there. Nobody really wanted Bill around, because he was awful, and Miz wasn’t really that much better than Bill at not saying horrible things to people all of the time. They couldn’t take either of them anywhere without the other one coming along, and when the both of them were anywhere doing anything together was just a mess and a half.

"...I’m not even sure how the lake is still in one piece, after them going out there the other day. Did you hear anything at all about that?" Dipper asked Pacifica, then he hesitated. "Uh, the lake _is_ actually still in one piece and all the townsfolk are okay, right?" Dipper asked, starting to wonder if--

"I heard that ‘that young punk staying at the Pines’ place’ was out in Mr. Pines’ boat on the lake again," Pacifica told him, "But I didn’t hear anything about Miz being out there with him."

Dipper looked at her, aghast. "So they _lied?_ " Then he shook his head. He didn’t know why he was so surprised about it. It wasn’t like Miz hadn’t gotten him and Mabel in a lie before, with those glasses.

Pacifica frowned. "That depends. What did they say?" Pacifica asked him.

"Bill said that they both went out to the lake. And Miz…" Dipper frowned. "She actually hummed a bunch of stuff. Grunkle Stan asked Bill to ‘translate’ for her." Dipper rubbed the side of his arm. "I don’t get why Grunkle Stan wouldn’t call them on it, though. He’s pretty sure he can tell when they’re lying."

"How many times have they said that they’ve been out at the lake together?" Pacifica asked him. Dipper frowned and flipped open his journal to the dates and times to show her, and she diligently wrote them down. "I’ll look into it," she told him. She couldn’t remember hearing of anyone ever seeing someone else with ‘that blue-haired, teen-aged punk’ at the lake, but if they’d split up in the woods before the older demon continued on there, it was worth finding out where the younger demon had been going instead. That said...

"But they did leave that hovel together. And returned together?" Dipper started to say yes, then stopped himself.

"I can check the footage with Great-Uncle Ford," he told her. "I really don’t want to take Bill’s word for it."

Pacifica nodded. She _really_ didn’t like the idea of either of these demons slipping out from under her, for lack of a better word, surveillance net. "But when at least one of them is known to be at the Shack, they seem to be together a lot? Both of them normally seem to be there together at the same time?"

"Usually," Dipper told her. He pulled down on his cap as he thought about this. Because… he felt like he should be doing something else, he just didn’t know what. And it all left him feeling oddly uneasy.

(And Dipper realized only later, after talking with Great-Uncle Ford about it, and watching _him_ panic at the thought of not knowing where they’d gone, or what they might’ve been doing while they were away and outside the barrier, able to do who-knew-what to a bunch of other people so easily… that, that was it. Panic. The thing he hadn’t been doing was panicking like Great-Uncle Ford had. _Panic_ was a normal reaction to hearing about a crazy dream demon being out on the loose. But Dipper hadn’t felt that way about it at all, and he didn’t know _why_...)

"Well," Pacifica said, "If divide-and-conquer won’t work for them, we might as well try to take advantage of them both always wanting to be in the same place, at the same time -- at least, reportedly." If Miz really was uncomfortable with the idea of venturing too far from the older demon, with Bill also following along to where Miz went if she did want to go somewhere… well, then. That sounded like bait for a trap, if any of them ever managed to actually get that far without getting killed first. "In the meantime, we should find something else to occupy Miz's time, to keep her distracted. And we can use her wanting to be in a particular location to lead and keep Bill in that same location as well," the blonde suggested. "Should I send over my library of Japanese animation?" Her butlers had improved upon her collection significantly after the movie night showing.

"That actually might work," Dipper told her, "But you might end up losing your own day because of it, if she wants to do another marathon showing." Dipper paused. "I’m not even sure if that would work again for anything she doesn’t already like a lot. She hyper-focuses on stuff once it’s caught her attention, but if it doesn’t, then she gets _really_ easily distracted away from whatever it is she was doing," Dipper warned her. "She can’t even sit still when she gets excited about something sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Pacifica asked him. That sounded a little foreboding.

"Well, I saw her get excited earlier when Mabel put a ribbon on her head -- one of the sticky bow ones, on her forehead, uh, right between her cat ears? -- because Mabel was trying to get Miz to sit still and let Mabel brush her fur, to play dress up with her? But it didn’t work. Miz just sprung up and started running around back and forth, up and down the Shack's hallway." She hadn’t _just_ been running up and down the hallway, either. She’d been doing that cat thing where they race up the side of the walls a little bit with their claws, leaping off the walls, and squealing the whole time as she did it. Luckily, Mabel had been her usual easygoing self, declaring all Miz’s running-around craziness to be super-cute and giving up on dress-up time completely; Mabel had settled for just watching the kitten go crazy running around the Shack’s living room and hallways instead.

"So, they really do act like cats when they have the bodies of cats," Pacifica said, with a tired mental sigh as they circled back around to their original discussion. She hated going in circles like this on things. She resisted the urge to rub her temples, but only barely. "But Bill apparently has two bodies now… one body, and one cat ‘vessel’," she self-corrected before Dipper could -- yes, she _had_ read his texting on the subject. "And while he's a cat, his actual body is left behind somewhere else. --Can we use this?" She wondered if they could steal it, maybe lock it away somewhere. Would that help to stop him, somehow? How powerful could he be, as just a simple housecat?

"Not gonna work; he’s been keeping it up in the attic and there are all those protections he put in up there that keep us all out. Great-Uncle Ford made some comment about him being stuck without a body earlier if his ‘nine lives’ run out, because he’d have to get through the barrier to get it, and Bill basically told him off for that one. It sounded like, however this stuff works, the dumb dorito wouldn’t be stuck outside the barrier, while his body stays stuck inside the barrier, inside the attic. He straight-up told Grunkle Stan not to worry about it, that he can’t get trapped outside of it, outside his ‘real’ body, if somebody killed the cat vessel that he was in. Even Great-Uncle Ford seemed to think that killing that vessel wouldn’t kill him," Dipper told her. "Plus, even if we did take his body and hide it or something, he'd probably be able to still find it and get it back; I’m pretty sure that Miz would help him out with that."

"What _would_ happen if we killed him while he's inside the cat… vessel?"

"I’m pretty sure he'd be fine. The way that everybody was talking, it sounded like he’d just leave the dead cat and return to his own body." Dipper made a face. "And Miz would probably eat it."

"Wait, eat the body?" Pacifica said. She grimaced when Dipper told her, "No, the vessel," because _that_ didn’t make it any better.

And of course Dipper was serious. He’d seen the tape; they all had. There was a reason why Great-Uncle Ford called her a man-eater. ...Though, in this case, would it be cat-eater instead? Dipper nodded.

Why would she do _that?_ " Pacifica asked him in disgust, and Dipper just grimaced and shrugged. "Well, the first time she came here, she was with another guy. Great-Uncle Ford captured him, but he was kind of like Miz? He was in a vessel, too. Just like Miz is in one now. And Miz ate his vessel after he left it. She’d said something about not letting it go to waste or something," Dipper told her, sparing her the gruesome details. On the surveillance footage of the bunker, they’d all seen Miz set the vessel on fire, then put it out and twist off the head off, before tearing off a leg to eat for starters. And she hadn’t stopped there… "But hey, at least she promised Grunkle Stan today that she wasn’t gonna eat anybody that could talk to her while she’s here?" Dipper gave her a long look, which Pacifica did _not_ mistake the meaning of: this was something that had actually needed to be asked of her, in order to try and make it clear that she should not be doing it.

Pacifica held down a shudder at this news. Because this was… _disturbing_. And she was not going to think about that too hard when they were standing not three yards away from the meat case, with all its red steaks and pork cutlets. "Alright. What else have you learned about them in the meantime, since we last talked?" she asked Dipper instead. It looked like his babysitter was getting close to leaving, given how full the cart she was moving around was, and she wanted to get as much information out of Dipper as she could while he was here. Melody would be heading to the checkout aisles soon, and she doubted that Dipper was going to want to leave Mabel at home, trying to keep the demons distracted all by herself without him.

Frankly, Pacifica didn’t like the idea of that one all that much, either.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: Had to split the chapter again, moved the sections into the next chapter, hopefully we'll be able to finish editing
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Ah, cats and demon worship. Did you know before now that in this dimension, those two things go hand-in-hand? *innocent look* (...fooooooreshadowing...)
> 
> [Chapter 126](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/52097281) is an interlude chapter ("Chapter 98.7.1") back in MizBill's home dimensional set.


	39. Chapter 99: Try restarting the universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> [...there wasn't one for this, either? o_O;;  
> So let's go with: "Talk of the dangers of demon worship, the kids and demons play music (and then get in trouble for it later), and an argument between the older twins and the demon-pair later that night that becomes truly dangerous, for them all."]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 127 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/52575961). It was first posted on Dec 30, 2019.
> 
> Pictures by Mizuuma!

\---

Miz was napping peacefully in Mabel’s lap. The teenager pet her gently even as Bill laid curled up nearby -- not fully asleep, but relaxed. Mabel liked the demons like this, quiet and calm. They seemed almost harmless this way… _almost_. She wasn’t ever going to forget how dangerous they actually were, no matter how cute they appeared right now. (And that was really, _really_ cute!) Mabel wasn’t sure why Miz had suddenly wanted to be a cat (or why Bill had gone along with being one himself if he wasn't going to let anybody pet him as a cat like Lazy-Eye Susan did while he was being human"-ish"), but she liked how kittyMiz was… easier to distract with simple things like this, like feathers and string, sticks and thrown balls and petting. It made Mabel wonder if maybe whatever body Miz was in affected how she behaved? Because if it did…

...well, Bill probably wasn't the same way. Mabel was pretty sure she knew why Bill wasn't letting anybody get near _him_ right now. When he'd been a huge triangle-pyramid-demon-thing during Weirdmageddon, they'd had trouble fighting him, even with the Shack, hitting him with anything in anything other than the eye. But in a human"-ish" body, Bill had ended up really beat-up-able these days, and he'd yelled at most of them not to touch him, up until he'd gotten that suit-thing he was wearing. And then he'd basically been untouchable and unbeatable again, at least physically. But Mabel was pretty sure he wasn't wearing any kind of suit as a cat right now though, which meant he was probably _'physically vulnerable'_ all over again and stuff… and wouldn't want any of them touching him again, because he'd think that they were going to grab him and hurt him. Bill might have laughed off Grunkle Ford beating him up like that out on the porch before when her grunkle hadn't been sleeping really well, but if he'd _actually_ not cared about getting hurt, he wouldn't have started wearing that suit, so...

...anyway, Miz didn't seem worried about any of this stuff at all, and that wasn't super-surprising to Mabel -- the two of them really did seem to be different on a lot of different stuff. And maybe this was one of those things? Because sure, Miz had been pouncing around a lot indoors that one time after all sorts of stuff, and she'd liked Susan petting her on the head too, but… Miz had _definitely_ acted differently as a dragon in that other dimension than as a cat now or as a human. Which meant that she _did_ act differently sometimes. And with her headband blocking a bunch of stuff that Miz felt was natural, too… it made Mabel wonder what Miz was like in her triangle form, too. Because that was a form that Miz hadn’t shown to any of them so far (at least, not that Mabel knew of).

And she should have one, right? Because Miz had said that she was a Bill Cipher. Just… a different one? From a different dimension, with a different background… and Mabel knew what alternate selves were like; she’d met the other Mabels that one time in that MAB-3L dimension. Most of them had been nice, kind of like her in some way, but Anti-Mabel had been _**pure evil**_ and her opposite in practically every single way. --She’d even _hated_ cats!! And with what those Anti-Ford and Anti-Stan and Anti- _Mason_ had all been like in that Anti-Mabel's other dimension… Mabel couldn’t help but wonder just how similar or different the other Bills were, too. (Especially Miz and Bill compared to each other, when they were both being their worst and most horrible(?!) selves.) Mabel had only met Miz so far for comparison to Bill, so she didn’t really have a good idea of how different Bill Ciphers usually were from each other.

...well, okay, maybe there was that Anti-Bill, too. But Bill insisted that that all-floaty purplish kind of square wasn’t a ‘him-who-was-also-him _AT ALL_ ’, (...and Anti-Bill wasn't just creepy, he'd treated her even worse than Bill did...) so Mabel really wasn’t all that sure if Anti-Bill counted as an alternate Bill Cipher, too.

...Oh, hey wait -- there was also that Seb guy too, right? That super-silly guy that Miz had been with the last time Miz had been here before and made that big beautiful bouncy castle just for her? ...Was _Seb_ another Bill? Mabel honestly couldn’t remember. If somebody had asked her cold, 'Is this Bill?' she would have to say no, but… if she had to compare Seb to Bill _and_ Miz? They'd all kinda acted sort of similar to each other, three of a type. And so Mabel frowned a little as she kept petting Miz as she thought -- had Miz mentioned that before, that Seb was another Bill, too? Had Bill said it instead? -- but she couldn’t remember if she really had or hadn’t heard that or not. Even if they all did sort of act crazy-ish in the same way...

Meanwhile, KittyMiz stirred a little, beginning to wake up from her cute little impromptu nap, rolling over and stretching as she readjusted her position. Mabel (even though she was trying to keep herself from being deterred or distracted by this oh so very cat-like display, _still_ ) ‘awww’ed at how cute it was, at how KittyMiz was being.

And after awhile of general stretching (and getting gently scritched behind the ears a bit as she did so), KittenMiz twitched and cracked open her eyes. "Uuuuh?" Mabel winced. "Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you." She really had been trying to not wake her up, even as she'd kept on petting Miz in her lap in her sleep.

"-ss’ fine…" KittenMiz yawned. "You’re comfortable," she told Mabel.

The teenager giggled. "It’s probably my sweater. It’s soft," she told Kitty!Miz as Miz purred, nuzzling her face up against said sweater.

"It iiiiiisssss~" Miz said, before she relaxed up against Mabel’s side. "I like you. You’re nice." Miz murmured sleepily. "Screw what the unicorns say… they’re nothing like the ones in Those Little Ponies anyway…."

Mabel took the unicorn comment in stride -- she didn't care what _they_ thought of her anymore -- but at that last part she blinked. "You watch Those Little Ponies?" She hadn’t expected that. She’d thought Miz only watched anime cartoons?

Miz rolled over again, and began kneading at Mabel’s sweater. "Yeah~ though it had a different name back in my original dimension. It was called My Little Ponys. But the show’s pretty much the same in terms of atmosphere… all the characters are different though… still cute ponies…" (The equivalent show in this dimension was far more diverse, with more boy ponies right from the start. It was nice -- it didn't take away from the female characters either; they shared equal amounts of screen time and had their own separate adventures too. The show still out-and-out shattered the Bechdel test, and then some.)

"That sounds nice." Mabel was relieved to hear that Miz liked cute and happy shows like that, too. She’d been a little worried over Miz’s taste in movies and TV. Fruits Basket was cute… but some of it was really, _really_ , **super** sad and kind of dark. (...which Miz had claimed was the point. That they were sad, and then they got better.)

"--though I liked the fanmade Friendship is Witchcraft spinoff a lot too," Miz purred. "I relate so hard to those characters."

"Which ones?" Mabel asked, curious despite herself, hoping that a sweet cartoon show about ponies would be a safe topic to talk about with her. (Most things weren't safe to talk about with either Bill, she'd been finding.)

"Pinkie mostly. She just wants her family back." Miz settled down, partially dozing off again. Mabel stiffened a little at the mention of demonic family (because there was that brother that Miz had said that Bill didn’t want to talk about, and Bill was sitting right there; Mabel was pretty sure he was awake)...

...But Miz didn’t say anything else (and neither did Bill), and that was good, so Mabel slowly went back to petting Miz again as she talked. "...well, my favorite character is MoonShimmer. She’s really pretty," was Mabel’s input. Miz giggled, then said:

"MoonShimmer’s a giraffe."

"--I know, that’s what makes her cool!" Mabel told her, grinning, and the two girls began discussing the show. (And while Mabel was doing it, she was glad that Miz was sticking to only talking about stuff from the cute pony show and completely staying away from any and all other, darker topics.)

"I think I’m further along than you, so I should probably avoid telling you spoilers," Miz told her. It left Mabel startled, then pouting.

...and she tried using the big-eyes look on Miz as she said: "Just _one_ spoiler would be fine, right?"

Miz looked up at the other little ‘queen of the household’ and… in the end, she just couldn’t help it.

Miz hummed, as she seriously considered it. "Well~" She grinned up at Mabel. "If you’re suuuuure~?" and Mabel could have backed down, but she didn’t. "Yup!"

"--MiracleNote gets married!" Miz wiggled as she told gave her just the _one_ spoiler, looking so very smug as she did it.

Mabel’s jaw dropped. "Really? Who does he marry?" Her shipping chart depended on the answer. But at this, Miz continued to look smug.

"Not telling~ you’ll just have to wait and find out~"

"TinselTop? ScarletJewel?! **Munchy?!** " Mabel guessed in rapid succession, her eyes getting progressively wider and wider.

But to this, Miz covered her mouth with both of her little front paws. "Nnnnnnope!" she purred out. "I’m practicing _not_ telling people stuff!"

"But that’s just for _other_ stuff!" Mabel whined out at her. It wasn’t fair; that was maybe only _half_ a real spoiler! "Tell meeeee~" But all Miz continued to do was proceed to giggle through her paws. Mabel pouted. "Why’d you tell me if you weren’t actually going to _tell_ me?!" she complained. PetalKick? It'd better not be PetalKick! They’d had a whole arc about how she and MiracleNote wouldn't be a 'thing' because they were childhood friends and he thought of her as a _sister_ \--

To this, KittenMiz huffed out a breath and told her, "The fact that you want to know is what makes it practice for me to keep mum about it." Miz curled up in place in her lap. "And something like this is a harmless topic to practice on."

Mabel groaned before letting her head drop back, before letting her arms and back follow suit, splaying herself across the flat (dirty) boards of the porch. "Why’d you have to pick _this_? I’m going to be thinking about it all daaaaaay!"

"That’s the point!" Miz insisted. Mabel groaned again. "I _did_ ask if you were sure you wanted to hear it." Miz pouted, hoping Mabel wasn’t going to blame her for this. After all, she’d brought it on herself! Miz had even _warned_ her all about it!

Mabel kept guessing names for who MiracleNote would have married. "...Am I at least close?" she complained a little bit, hoping for at least a little more of _something_ to go with it. (But Miz’s only response to her was, "I won’t say anything one way or another.") Mabel sighed. --This wasn’t really fun at all anymore; it was practically torture, now, not knowing. And how long was she going to she have to keep on distracting the demons for, anyway? When were Dipper and Melody going to be back?

"Don’t worry so much," Miz assured her. "This will be a pleasant surprise for you to look forward to! Not all surprises are going to be this innocent."

Mabel frowned a little, not missing Miz’s last mutter, and made a mental note to tell that one to Dipper, _and_ her Grunkle Stan. But she didn't ask to understand more; she knew better than to ask them herself by this point. And--

\--then Mabel glanced over as she levered herself up on her elbows a bit and saw what Bill looked like, compared to Miz. ...And Mabel decided to stop asking Miz about _anything at all_ for a while; Bill was looking kinda tense for some reason, and _not_ in a good way. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been eyeing them both like that, but...

Bill was (still) watching Miz from where he was lying, watching her and Shooting Star out of the corners of his eyes. But when Miz stayed quiet for several long moments, saying nothing more than what she already had there, and with Shooting Star not pressing his sister any further, he flicked his eyes away from them both and relaxed back down again, lowering his head and closing his eyes.

His sister really _DID_ need to practice holding back information, and Shooting Star needed to learn patience and _when_ a time was a bad time to ask certain types of things. This was good practice, for the both of them. And they were both doing well. WELL… much better than they had been before.

\---

Dipper and Melody eventually came home from their shopping trip and, once they were back, Mabel had high-tailed (HAH!) it outta there, post-haste. With her favorite head-scratcher gone, Miz had made her way back upstairs with her brother to hang out up in the attic until dinner time, whereupon she and Bill went downstairs, she ate some fish (while Bill ate a mix of carrots, peas, and green beans) off of some plates on the countertops that Melody had prepared for them, and then they both went back up to the attic again to sleep. Miz took a bit of that time before bed to review what she'd learned from Dipper and Pacifica's conversation out at the market (because she’d wanted to know, and pulling up information was EASY once she’d gotten used to how it worked here) before her curiosity was settled and she could sleep easy.

By the time the next morning rolled around though, and another cat-friendly (thus very small portioned and bland-tasting) breakfast, Miz was already bored of being a cat; so she shifted both her form and sex into Jan. Then he stretched and sighed in relief. "Ah~bipedal-ness how I’ve missed you~" Jan purred as he slumped back over the pillow he’d spent most of his time lounging on as a cat up in Bill’s room.

Bill looked up from where he was lying down, lounging across his own pillow, having woken up a while ago from yet another nap after breakfast, but had been content to just lie there thinking with his eyes closed. "...You’re bored of being a cat?" he asked her, blinking open his eyes to look over at Jan. That had seemed rather quick to him. ...Then again, his little sister did seem to enjoy shifting between and trying out different forms a lot.

Jan nodded, spreading his four arms out around him as he leaned back and got more comfortable on the pillow. "I missed having fingers," he pouted. "Can’t cook without ‘em." And as much as he liked the fact that Bill could eat while inside one of the vessels he made, it wasn’t quite the same as cooking food _just_ for his brother. Jan looked over at Bill, fully relaxed as he continued on sunbathing in the light coming in through the attic window. Briefly, Jan wondered how long he was allowed to stay here. The GlitchBill was gone. There was nothing keeping him here except his own desire to stay with his big brother.

And no matter what Stan said about how he was welcome to stay since he was Bill’s family, Jan was pretty sure that none of the humans actually wanted him here. Mabel was perfectly nice to hang out with, but she didn’t like Miz as a friend. And while Jan thought Soos might like him well enough, that was about the extent of it; he was pretty sure that most of the others just tolerated him, at best. Jan wouldn’t deny that part of him (most of him actually) was quite annoyed at this, because he’d been trying hard to be on good behavior. No rampaging, or forcibly shapeshifting anyone because he was bored and needed some way to let loose his powers! Did they not realize how much self-restraint that took? (But that wasn't the issue here. People didn't like him because he kept talking. Never shutting up.)

(And if Jan had complained to any of the Pines about the ‘self-restraint’ it took within earshot of Ford, he would have immediately pointed to that as the entire reason why no-one should trust him. That it was all just a front. Proof of what he’d been saying all along. That what the man-eater _really_ wanted to do to them all, and the town around them, was to--)

Jan pouted, feeling frustrated. Why, he’d even been trying to stick to one form for the majority of his stay, even when it made him feel stifled and constrained, more so than the headband and the bracers. Being forced to be ‘female’ for so long was just…!

But then Jan stopped for a moment and frowned to himself in thought. He... hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it would feel to _have_ to be one sex/gender for so long. He was used to just switching whenever he felt like it. And whenever he switched genders as a triangle, it wasn’t like anyone noticed.

Jan had stayed as ‘Miz’ when around all the people here for their own sake of mind, though, just _trying_ to be good for his own brother’s sake, to get along when he was clearly trying to do the same. ...And he’d also stuck to being and remaining as ‘Miz’ for so long because he hadn’t wanted to switch it out on the kids too much, just in case it got too weird for them. Plus, since Miz 'looked' like she was around their age, he’d thought it would make them more comfortable around him.

All his human-ish forms were ‘technically’ supposed to be 27, technically. (Though, Jan wasn’t all that good at telling apart age anymore.) Frankly, Jan, Xin and Yun looked like young adults though, somewhere between their late-teens and mid to late twenties, depending on posture and clothing. But Miz looked… like a kid. And that _should_ have helped them all to like him! Miz was cute! Cuddly! _Nice!_ \--It had worked for him back home just fine! WHy wasn’t it working for him here?!

It wasn’t _his_ fault that they all didn’t like him -- he’d tried just about _everything_ that he could to get them to like him better! He’d even tried being a cute and cuddly small _cat_ \-- the kitten thing wasn’t _just_ a whim after all! Everyone loved kittens, who would ever be able to hate him when he was so small and cute? Mabel loved cats! It _should_ have helped to get the humans to relax around him! But it didn’t work; NOTHING had worked!! It was so ANNOYING! Why should he even _try_ if--!!

Fine! Whatever! If people were going to be wary and suspicious no matter how small and vulnerable he made his form, then he wasn’t going to bother. If it didn’t matter what he looked like for how they treated him, then he should just do what he wanted! Hence, he was now in his Jan form, four-armed and all!

Hm… would it be too obvious to just walk around in a clearly alien form, though? He didn’t want the government getting called on him. ...Eh, he looked nothing like a triangle though, it shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, this was Gravity Falls, they should just Nevermind All That. And as for the tourists? Well, Perception Filters were a thing. Jan didn’t like hiding his body though. Miz might be self-conscious about some things, but Jan was created specifically to be ‘attractive’ (at least according to his own tastes in Bishounen) and he had no problem with showing off in front of others. So things like hiding his body just felt annoying to him. He was beautiful, he was created to BE beautiful! And he didn’t feel right with the idea of having to hide himself from people. Jan shook his head. His form was literally a work of art that he had crafted, and he loved showing off his art to other people. It was a strange way to feel about what was essentially a body he was wearing -- which, to him, was just a vessel, essentially a physical form he wore (like clothing but not) so that people could see and interact with him. But to people like humans, who cared a lot about who they were as a person, and tied that identity in with their name and their appearance... someone like him who would simply swap out whenever he felt like it, changing not just physical forms but _name_ , _gender identity_ and _persona_...? Well, it would probably make people feel uncomfortable.

But Jan was already used to putting on a different persona with different people and in different situations, back from when he’d been human. He… _she’d_ done it all her life. After all, she’d been Zyun-Jan to her family and V҉͎҉̷҉͎҉҉҉͎҉̷҉͎҉i҉͎҉̷҉͎҉҉҉͎҉̷҉͎҉c҉͎҉̷҉͎҉҉҉͎҉̷҉͎҉t҉͎҉̷҉͎҉҉҉͎҉̷҉͎҉o҉͎҉̷҉͎҉҉҉͎҉̷҉͎҉r҉͎҉̷҉͎҉҉҉͎҉̷҉͎҉i҉͎҉̷҉͎҉҉҉͎҉̷҉͎҉a҉͎҉̷҉͎҉҉҉͎҉̷҉͎҉ to everyone else. Swapping out names wasn’t anything _new_ for her. ~~(And she hadn’t even **had** a name as a triangle anyway, right?)~~ And the person she’d been around her parents had been different from the person she’d been around her siblings or friends, or around teachers, classmates, customers, her coworkers… she’d still been the _same person_ , but also _different_ in terms of behavioral output. ~~The adults around her had told her how she was _supposed_ to be around them. Demure, obedient, quiet, a good girl who would stay out of the way and stop bothering the grown ups with silly _stupid_ questions while they were busy. _‘If you want to know something, go find out yourself instead of bothering us with your curiosity…’_~~

So wasn’t that normal, though? To put on a different persona with different people? So this thing that Jan did now, wasn’t really all that different. Was it?

\--Well it didn’t matter, Jan was tired of being Miz, so he was going to be Jan for a bit! Who cared anymore anyway. --Not him!!

Jan sighed, leaning back on the pillow with one hand draped over his face. "...I wanna have a concert." He wanted to sing and dance his frustration away.

...And Bill got a slow cheshire-cat _GRIN_ where he sat.

He stood up on his pillow, stretched a bit in place, then _ADJUSTED_ himself, and--

\--slipped his Self _right_ out of that 'cat' vessel and back into his stupid human-ish body -- and then stretched inside _that_ again afterwards, to help dispel the 'rubberband' feeling a bit.

" _WELL_ ," Bill told him, letting go of his stretch to relax again, before slowly sitting his no-longer-vacant body up again into a more straight-up sort of posture. "I _did_ mean to do this at some point, ONE time or another. --I didn't get it done before I lost signal again," he told Jan rather cryptically, with an odd sort of sigh, " _But_..." Bill’s eyes lightened up a bit brightly. "It SHOULD all be ready by _now_..."

Jan blinked and looked over at him.

"What's ready?" Jan asked her brother.

And Bill's grin grew even wider.

\---

Jan went downstairs with Bill, feeling a little apprehensive about how the humans might react to his other form. But aside from Dipper being confused about who he was for a bit, and Mabel’s slack-jawed and blushing face, the kids seemed to accept it without much trouble at all. Dipper even wanted to inspect the shifting patterns of melanin along Jan’s skin. ("How are you _doing_ that? You're inside the barrier, so it's not magic," Dipper noted with a thinking frown.)

Stan had simply told the twins that, yeah, sometimes Miz wanted to be a boy, that he’d done this before in the week in the other dimension that they hadn’t seen, and that this particular form was called Jan. Bill, himself, had blinked in surprise when he’d learned that she’d thought switching forms might be a problem. (It wasn’t as though she hadn’t done it before multiple times, to his Mind and way of thinking.)

Ford, on the other hand...

...well, he simply rose to his feet from his chair without saying anything, to turn away from Jan and walk straight out of the room…

...and there was a **slam** of a (presumably, bedroom) door shortly thereafter. Jan had twitched at that, but turned away with a soft huff as he folded his arms. Stan sighed and scratched his cheek.

"Yeah, don’t mind him," Stan told Jan. "He’s still not really all that happy about the kid bein’ all female and stuff, and…" Stan shrugged. "Probably reminds him of…" But then Stan stopped and frowned. He’d been about to say that it was probably just some demon thing he didn’t lik, or that maybe Ford thought he was getting ‘teased’ by Jan, since the kid had sort of mocked him to that effect about one of the supposedly possible effects of his ‘going female human’ before. But Ford hadn’t said anything about what Jan-Miz had just done, or ‘warned’ the kids about something to do with it this time, and he hadn’t really said anything about it much on the boat, either. "...Uh, gimmie a minute," Stan told him. "--Kid, babysitting duty, yeah?" Stan added next, gesturing to the older of the two demons as he got up himself, and walked off after his brother, to go off and talk to him.

"Mm," said the kid in acknowledgment, as he leaned up against the counter to put the kettle on for hot water for some tea.

\---

"...Ford?" Stan called out as he knocked on his brother's door. He didn’t hear much more than a grumble. "I’m comin’ in," he said next, because Ford _had_ said he could come in whenever, and he turned the doorknob and did just that.

Ford was lying on his bed, glasses off, with his other hand over his face.

"Ford…" Stan closed the door behind him, before walking over to sit down on the bed next to him. "You wanna tell me what’s going on?" Stan asked him next.

"You are _actively_ helping them both gain _worshippers_ , and a stronger _foothold_ in our own dimension as _gods_ ," Ford grated out angrily at him, but he also sounded a hell of a lot more tired than he should, too.

Stan blinked. "Huh?"

To this, Ford rolled over in bed and stared up at his brother in disbelief, after putting his glasses back on and realizing his brother wasn’t joking -- he really was confused at -- " _Stanley_ ," Ford began, "You _just saw_ what the man-eater looked like, walking into the other room." Zero comprehension from his brother. "You had those tourists _worshipping_ them, just the other day. --You _set that all up_ for the two of them!" Ford told him, as he struggled to lever himself up. (And perhaps this latest development was in some way his own fault, for not better explaining the _dangers_ of such a thing at the time--)

Stan scratched his cheek. "They were just cats, Ford," he told his brother. "Folks like petting cats. --That ain’t worship." Not really. Seriously, what the heck?

"Adoration is a type of worship, Stan," his brother told him next, like he thought he was just spouting off basic facts, and Stan frowned at him until he said, "The two things that give demons the most power are adoration, and fear."

"You mean respect and fear," Stan corrected him.

Ford, who was still smarting over the fact that his brother had actually had the audacity to suggest he _sit in on_ and _watch_ as Bill received untold amounts of downright _worship_ from a bunch of _random strangers_ , given his history with Bill--

"It’s fear and respect, that the kid wants," Stan continued on, to Ford’s horrified amazement. "Kid never talks about wanting _adoration_ , or whatever."

And Ford stared up at his brother in pure disbelief.

"That’s not--" Ford began, but he was quickly cut off by "--It’s all the kid talks about, Ford," and it left Ford feeling stunned and concerned.

"That’s _not_ how--" _it works for demons_ , Ford started to tell him ~~but Bill wasn’t quite a normal sort of Demon, now, was he? And--~~

But when Ford tried to protest again ~~and began to stall out slightly at the uncertainty that began to engulf him~~ , Stan told him, "Look, kid didn’t actually let anyone pet him during that whole thing. You don’t gotta worry about nothin’." (And Ford grimaced -- because, yes, he _knew_ that, he’d been watching from the video feed and if he’d _seen_ Bill do anything like that, he would have _immediately_ intervened, Stan’s own brand of ‘oh, this will be _good_ for them’ reasoning be _damned_.) And now Stan was starting to think that maybe this was part of it, too -- that maybe the kid had also known what Ford’s reaction was going to be about-- "He only--"

"--sat like some kind of ancient Egyptian idolic statue of some sort, garnering awe and fear, and refusing to let anyone get even close enough to touch him," Ford told him while feeling a great deal of disgust, much of which surely entered his tone as he explained it, "While receiving _offerings_ in a _bowl_ on an _altar_ placed below him. _Watching it all the whole time._ " It hadn’t _quite_ been enough to be considered out-and-out worship _of Bill_ , but it had come _disturbingly_ close. Far, _far_ too close. (If Ford hadn’t been more worried about the fallout from intervening right in the middle of the tour, with all those innocent people around…)

(And as for that that man-eating… _whatever_ she was, _that_ being had _clearly_ been getting **something** out of it. --Yes, she hadn’t been _brainwashing_ them outright, leaving them in an almost drugged-out kind of stupor while out-and-out _begging_ for more, but some of the absolute worst of the worst could be far far more subtle in their designs, and Bill… would not have put up with that. The triangle demon considered this dimension _his_ , and Ford knew -- absolutely _**knew**_ \-- that Bill would _not_ put up with that from anyone, "little sister" or no. ...It was the only reason he’d held himself back, and kept himself strictly to watching. Because Stan was fine, and Dipper and Mabel were fine, and ~~Bill himself had only and merely, _almost_~~...)

(It still gave Ford a bad taste in his mouth. It had had him gripping his arms, sitting in that chair and watching tensely, while all the while wanting to just close his eyes and _look away_ and not _think about-- ~~how he’d used to worship Bill himself-- ~~~~~~_ ~~ ~~)~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

Stan paused. Well. Yeah. That had been kind of the point. But...

"...This is really a problem with demons and junk?" Stan asked Ford slowly.

" _Yes!_ " Ford told him, with no small exasperation (while stifling a shudder).

Stan let out a breath. "Okay," he told his brother with a shrug, as he rubbed the back of his head. "Guess we won’t be doin’ that one anymore."

But before Ford could begin to feel any relief at his brother’s easy pronouncement on that one at all, Stan added, "So what’s the problem with what M-- _Jan_ looks like, then?"

Ford twitched. It left him quite aghast; he wasn’t sure he should even _need_ to point this out, it was so obvious, but-- "That form was _clearly_ made to engender worship in anyone looking at them, upon sight! Did you not _see_ the way Mabel looked at the man-eater when they entered the room?! And Dipper, as well?!?" Dipper had resisted it somewhat, but it was clear to Ford that it had been difficult for him, and-- Ford had seen it all before. What the man-eater had done the day before hadn’t quite worked on the niblings the way that she’d intended, so today she must’ve decided to try and-- and-- ~~Did Bill truly not realize what she was trying to do? Because that was the only reason Ford could think of for the dream demon’s utter lack of response to her doing that, and--~~ And yet Stan was looking at him like he didn’t-- "I _know_ what I’m talking about, Stan! I’ve seen it before!" ~~Not that he _wanted_ to talk about it, but with what was happening in the other part of the house, right now--~~

"So Jan’s a little attractive, in a weird androgynous kinda way," Stan shrugged. "What does… how is that some kinda huge ‘worshipping’ problem? Mabel ain’t worshipping him. She’s like that with any cute guy she sees."

"Adoration is a form of power and worship for demons," Ford repeated, beginning to lose his patience, and then Stan said:

"Thought we were clear about these two not really bein’ _demon_ -demons, or whatever."

And Ford clenched his jaw at that. (That was something he still didn’t want to think much about at all.) "My point still stands, even if they aren’t… _Outsiders_... they’re still a _type_ of demon."

"And the kid thinks he gets what he wants outta respect and fear, not adoration," Stan said, like it was effectively closing the subject.

"--And the _man-eater_ seems to eat up anything resembling adoration, while wanting a form of it that seems to edge into borderline- _love_ ," Ford pointed out, feeling quite sick as he did so. Because only the very worst demons worked on individuals, to slowly and painfully (or quickly and deliriously) send them into such a state -- for them, and them alone, solely -- and it was _ugly_ , to see what became of those poor people then.

Stan straight up had to do a double take. "...Ford…" Stan said slowly, "Jan, Miz… I’m pretty sure that dragon lady wants to be loved because they’re lonely. That’s… a _human_ thing, you know?" It made Stan feel weird and really off-balance, sayin’ this sort of stuff out loud to his own brother. "Everyone wants to be loved. Right?"

But Ford looked away from him, uncomfortable, one hand grasping his other arm by the elbow, almost half-hugging himself.

"It’s not _love_ that any demon ever truly wants, Stan," Ford told him quietly. "I told you before, they just aren’t capable of it."

"Well, the dragon-lady certainly seems to want it," Stan pointed out. "Pretty sure she ain’t lying about that."

"And what the man-eater calls ‘love’, I have no doubt that we would call something else," Ford said moodily.

Stan let out a sigh. He wasn’t gonna get through to his brother on this one today, was he. "Ford…" But he had to stop there. The dragon-lady was desperate for something, and it went well beyond ‘love’ -- that was true. Kid was desperate for something a little different, and the dragon-lady didn’t fill up that hole for him; she was more of an… addition to it, off to the side almost, kinda. (And Stan could tell that the dragon-lady had noticed that too, at least a little bit. He was pretty sure that was why she sometimes went off taking on the ‘older sister’ role, instead of the ‘younger sister’ one sometimes, for him. She was trying harder to be a better kind of _every_ kind of ‘sister’ to the kid to make up for it.) And if he tried to convince Ford of this one, right now...

...he didn’t want the kid coming after him later, for telling stuff to Ford that his brother might end up trying to use against him, or Miz. Because right now, they _were_ kind of a weak point for each other. Stan knew that; he’d been taking advantage of that, leveraging that a bit.

But Stan wasn’t too sure what ‘taking advantage of that’ might look like for the demon-kid and the dragon-lady, if _Ford_ was the one trying to do it.

So Stan kept his stupid mouth shut on that one, and decided to move on to talking with his brother about something else, instead.

\---

Dipper frowned over at Bill, as Grunkle Stan walked off and left Bill to his tea making at the stove -- and him and his sister to the demon’s "care" while he did it -- but Dipper didn’t bother objecting to getting ‘babysat’ by the crazy demon this time. It had kind of looked like Great-Uncle Ford might’ve really needed Grunkle Stan to go after him, and Dipper hadn’t been about to stop that. Besides, they were all still in the Shack, and within yelling distance. The demons couldn’t do anything to either of them without getting in trouble almost immediately, so they wouldn’t even try to do it this time, right?

Mabel, meanwhile, went up to Jan and asked, "So, you’re a boy now? Or are you still a girl? Are you not female but you’re still a girl, like how Bill is female but still a boy, now?" She was kind of almost hoping Jan might still be a girl, even though Jan kind of seemed a little more like a boy now to her, because it had been kind of nice having more girls around the Shack? But if Jan was a boy now, then that was fine, too! She just wanted to know, so she wouldn’t get it wrong!

"I’m a ‘he’ right now," Jan said as he smiled down at Mabel. "I was a female girl as a human, but even then, I wasn’t really all that attached to being a ‘girl’ or being 'female'. So now that I can shapeshift, I can just switch whenever I want. I… actually tried to stay more or less the same while here, since from what I remember as a human, they tend to get… uncomfortable when someone just switches around."

Mabel gasped, slapping her hands to her own cheeks. "But… what other people think doesn’t matter! You should be what you want to be, whenever you feel like it!" She thought it was cool that Mi-- um, _Jan!_ \-- could turn into cats or cute boys or whatever she/he wanted whenever she/he wanted to!

At this, Dipper tensed, because… well, he saw how Bill’s shoulders kind of did a small _thing_ right there when Mabel had said that, and he was pretty sure that if Bill was still looking like a cat right now, his ears would’ve just perked up like--

("That’s not an ‘okay’ to stick any of us in another body, Bill," Dipper muttered out at him, hoping as he said it that Jan -- who seemed to have way less control than even the dream demon -- didn’t hear, because... "Grunkle Stan said you’ve got to talk to him first before anybody even thinks about doing anything like that anyway, _remember_ ," Dipper reminded him firmly, to which Bill just rolled his eyes kind of sarcastically and stopped doing the shoulder-thing, pretty quickly.)

"Back when I was human, people got attacked or hurt for switching." Jan grimaced. "It was awful and unfair."

Dipper winced at Jan’s words and looked away, shuffling his feet a bit. He knew what the ‘dragon-lady’ was talking about, there, and... "That… happens here too, sometimes…"

"Ugh, really? Still?! What the heck is wrong with people?" Jan scowled as he ran a hand through his hair. "Like, sure it’s an issue with some aliens, but most of the multiverse is pretty open to the idea, probably because of all the shapeshifting species there are…" of which he kinda, sorta, had had a hand in… just some small genetic tweaks here and there, some ambient Weirdness leaking out into the world around him, changing and inducing mutations that fell in line with things he enjoyed… Well, it hadn’t hurt anyone, and a universe that was more open and accepting of people being ‘different’ could only be a good thing, right?

Jan was sick of all the blood wars he’d Seen (and been forced to take part in). It was all so stupid. ...Well, he wasn’t being fair, there were many factors that went into why wars happened. But it often boiled down to one group just not liking the other group or wanting something from them and not wanting to ask nicely. Well, he’d stopped bothering to try and stop the wars anymore, it was an exercise in futility. People just ended up hating _him_ instead -- which he hadn’t actually minded too much, since at _least_ it had meant that they would stop fighting each other anymore... to focus on fighting him instead. But it was stressful and he'd just… stopped doing that, for his own sake of mind.

Jan shook himself out of his darkening thoughts, as Bill finished setting up a teatray for himself and began shooing the two younger twins out the backdoor of the Shack. "So, what’s this mysterious ‘ready’ surprise thing?" he asked as he followed Bill out and onto the porch. (The twins came to a stop next to them: Dipper frowning, and Mabel curious, as usual.)

Bill made a chittering sound in something like delight. "WELL!" He kicked the cooler out from under the couch, and set the teatray down neatly on top of it, before waving a hand out at the yard broadly. "It’s not _quite_ finished yet. I need to get a few things from Stitched Heart first, buuuuuuut…" He paused for effect.

Jan thought for a bit before the lightbulb moment hit. "Oh~ does this have to do with that really cool stage that you liked?" His eyes sparkled.

Bill let out a "Hah!" before filling and picking up a teacup and striding down off of the porch and into the yard, the twins (and Jan) following behind him. (Curiously: Mabel. Suspiciously: Dipper.)

" _Something_ like that, but I’ve been working on this with Shooting Star. We made an EVEN BETTER stage!" Bill flung his arms out with a very wide grin (yet not spilling a drop from his teacup as he did so), and--

\--a rather large number of security drones from the spaceship suddenly materialized right in front of them in the middle of the yard, as Bill’s ‘cancellation’ command to the drones had the ‘invisibility’ hologram those drones had been projecting (to mask their presence) suddenly waver, and then abruptly come crashing down.

Dipper jumped back in alarm at the sudden appearance of the droids -- which he freaking recognized from the alien spaceship as super-dangerous, thanks! -- and then yelped slightly as a _GIGANTIC_ slab of metal **slammed** down into the grass-and-dirt yard in front of them edge-first, right away next. ...It was quickly set upon by the drones, several telescoping arms from several interweaving their ways around and along the edges of the huge metal slab, at a slew of odd bars and long indentations that seemed embedded in the side of the thing. Dipper could only look on and stare as the droids worked in an odd sort of unsynchronized synchronization, grabbing onto the slab firmly and then slowly seeming to lock themselves in place against the underside of the sideways-listing slab, before slowly working together to raise and rotate it up and over. They pulled it up off and out of the indentation it had made in the ground where it had hit, to tilt and tilt until it was almost level -- and then _perfectly_ level -- with the plane of the ground below it, as several more droids still continued to circle around, doing _some_ things above...

Dipper stared open-mouthed at this display, as he finally realized exactly what it was he was looking at, and Mabel (who had already known all about this) made a squealing sound of absolute glee. "It’s _ready?_ \--IT’S READY!!" Mabel yelled out happily, grinning as she ran forward and immediately started clambering her way up the side of one of the droids, then the locked-in-place arm-tentacles, to climb her way up onto the top of the metal-floored stage, wanting to take a good look around at the whole thing...

" _Mabel!! --Wait!_ " Dipper called out frantically, as he scrambled right up after her, worried (largely because he knew exactly what those droids could do--).

"Yes," Bill called out simply, answering Shooting Star's question, even as she vanished up and out of his direct line-of-sight (though not the ‘sight’ that his suit’s readouts were giving him, combined with all the output he was getting from his drones as they continued to put the final touches on everything as they worked according to HIS laws, carrying out HIS instructions to meet HIS sets of specifications). "All the production and programming is done, now. I just need the speaker system and the mics from Stitched Heart," Bill said (more to his sister, now), as if this was an everyday common occurrence. And then, and only then, he finally took a sip of tea from his cup, feeling rather pleased about the whole thing. (Of course the tea was for a celebration. It had taken his a while to figure all of this out. The materials alone had been--)

"A proper stage!" Jan enthused, clasping his hands in front of his chest with a faraway look. "I haven’t had a real concert in a while…" Then he pouted. "Would I be allowed to have a concert?"

"I don’t see why not." Bill shrugged. That was what a stage was _for_ , after all. And it did need some breaking in to become one.

Jan frowned in thought. "I suppose, if I replace my fireworks with illusions so there’s no fear of anyone being injured…" He nodded to himself. Then his head came up further. "Oh right, isn’t that Woodstick festival thing coming up? Do you think I could perform?"

Bill turned and blinked at his sister. "...It is," he said slowly, but that was several weeks away. "You don’t want to use my stage now?" he asked. Certainly, it wasn’t really a _proper_ stage yet until someone actually played something on it, and he hadn’t exactly made it in the first place with his sister _specifically_ in mind, but… it had been her post that had prompted his initial stage-building challenge to those three idiots in that other dimension in the first place, and… well, she was _here_ and _WANTING_ to use one, and... _well_...

Jan had to stifle a grin at the not-pout thing Bill was doing just then.

"I suppose we could float this up over it, and _STEAL_ the show from each and every last one of them, instead," Bill muttered out next, trying to find a compromise for her. It would truly be a _LITERAL_ upstaging as well, their stage floating literally right above that one. He'd been planning on putting on the show over the town square, though -- or at _least_ the better part of the airspace nearby! Bill wanted an _audience_ for this one! Breaking a stage in was _supposed_ to be LOUD!!! --And FUN!

Jan grinned. "Well I did mean that I wanted to use your stage, both for fun and for that Woodstick thing. They have all those hot air balloons anyway, so what’s wrong with having a stage up in the sky as well?" He leaned over to nuzzle Bill a bit (which had Bill looking considerably better-slash-happier almost immediately). "We could perform together, if you want. And this stage can move, so we could fly around to find the spot with the best audience."

This had Bill humming softly, and immediately moving on to thinking about the logistics for pulling this off properly using his stage for the show -- the final performance during Woodstick, but also the practice sessions that would need to happen before that, which could of course start happening just that afternoon that very same day… and what he would need to do (and not do) in order to ‘get away with’ doing it with Stanley, while also handling keeping both Shooting Star and Pine Tree around, since he had been tasked with ‘babysitting duty’ over them for the afternoon...

Jan looked on during all this and found it adorable how much his brother was trying to plan this out.

"Can I perform with you?" Mabel asked them both rather excitedly as she looked down at them over the edge of the stage. "I kinda want to do karaoke with Grunkle Stan and Dipper again. And maybe even Grunkle Ford too!" She didn’t know how much Grunkle Ford might want to do so on a stage Bill that had built, but it couldn’t hurt to just _ask_ him and Grunkle Stan, right?

Bill looked up and blinked, then looked between his sister and then Mabel. "I... wouldn't be _against_ performing together with you," he said to Shooting Star. Performing together with his sister was obviously a no-brainer; of course he would do that. But performing songs with Shooting Star for an audience? He remembered what had happened during that ‘sock opera’ of hers! ...Then again…

Bill thought for a few long moments about humoring Shooting Star’s idea (first and foremost whether he even wanted to try and do it with her, while also weighing and comparing a few things that had happened before that point, and what he expected his own Zodiac’s reactions to be to the thought and actuality of this, given what had happened previously with Summerween and the currently-on-hold science lessons thus far and DDNMD session and all the rest of it, really), then Bill nodded once.

"Well! Performing with Stitched Heart was fun," Bill noted. "And with Shooting Star, it may even be fun too." (Shooting Star wasn’t really meant for that sort of thing as part of his Zodiac, though, Bill thought. Music stuff was more _his_ and Stitched Heart's thing… and also potentially that Stanford’s thing, too -- but Sixer was being inconsistent and continually annoying, so Bill doubted he could get that Stanford in on this whole stealing-the-show stage-performance thing -- he wasn’t holding his stupid human-ish body’s breath on _that_ one anytime soon. Compared with Shooting Star in that way...)

Jan clapped his hands in delight. "We'd have to choose a song line up! And costumes! And dance choreography!" His eyes seemed to sparkle as he got into the idea. "You can tell me what you want to wear, I can create clothing--" Jan bounced in place as he grinned down at Mabel.

Mabel gasped in delight. "Can you create stuff based on sketches?" she asked. Jan nodded. "I used to draw pretty clothing all the time as a human, kinda wanted to go into fashion for a bit during college, but I chickened out…" Jan admitted. "I didn't think I was good enough…"

"Whaa? You shouldn't give up on your dreams!" Mabel frowned. That was sad. (Dipper frowned slightly at this. ...Actually, hadn't Miz said they'd also given up on being a teacher, too? How many dreams had they supposedly given up over time? Were they just lying again, or… how many times had this other Bill changed his mind?)

Jan, for his part, just shrugged. "Well, even if I couldn't do it as a human, I have all the time in the world now to pursue my interests. As a human, everyone always asked me 'But how would you make money off that?' to all my hobbies. I've had my parents tell me that I wouldn't be able to make money off art… and… my mom supported me anyway but I guess… that might have stuck with me... the fact that they didn't think I could do it… dad always laughed at me..."

"Parents are stupid," was Bill's contribution to this.

Dipper frowned. Both at Bill's dislike for parents, and for how Miz/Jan's parents had dismissed their passion. "That's… not right," he couldn’t help but admit, tugging down a bit on his cap, as he sat down on the side of the big metal stage.

"They weren't being mean. They were worried for my future," Jan told them with a shrug (as Bill gestured at two of the circling drones to have them descend and extend their telescoping arms as quick makeshift ‘seats’ to lift both himself and his sister up to the stage, for an easier chat). "They always asked me to think about a career choice. And… it was my own fault for not knowing how to turn my interests into profit. My friends suggested selling my origami work, and that sort of worked, but it wasn't a stable source of income." Jan paused as he got his footing under him on the stage, and waved the drone off. "Wait, am I bringing down the mood again? Sorry, I'll stop." He didn’t want to upset them all again, not so soon, not when they were going to do something fun today.

Mabel frowned a little and reached forward to gently take and pat the back of Jan's hand. "Yeah, a little, but we can talk about something nicer now. Like what songs we should perform!"

Jan nodded quickly, wanting to get away from the not-happy topic. "Well should I let you choose? Or should I just go with whatever I like?" Jan wondered. "I could pull up a list of all the songs I know, you can see if you know any? Or you tell me what songs you know and I can learn them?"

Bill relaxed back in his crazy chair made of security droid tentacle-arms, floating in place only a few feet over the stage, sipping his tea and watching Mabel and his sister look over a songlist floating above Jan’s hands -- when he wasn’t sending looks over Dipper’s way -- and Dipper frowned and shoved himself a little farther away from the edge but remained seated himself, also watching. Meanwhile, the two sisters of the four of them got right into discussing music and clothing, with Jan dancing on the stage to show Mabel some choreography at one point. Dipper didn’t particularly like how any of this was going. Mabel was getting waaaay too excited about everything, and seemed to be losing track of exactly who they were dealing with here. It left Dipper just fretting with nerves over the whole thing. He didn't trust it, not one bit. This ‘floating stage’ idea and this ‘musical takeover’ -- really, the way Bill was handling all this in general -- reminded him _way_ too much of the inside of the Fearamid during Weirdmageddon. ...Honestly, the whole thing with Weirdmageddon, really.

But as Dipper watched Mabel a little more, he realized that she actually wasn’t getting too out of hand, here. He remembered what that sock puppet opera last summer had been like -- what Mabel was usually like during all of her major craft projects, really. She wasn’t just blurting out a bunch of crazy things like she usually did, then backing down off of them; she just wasn’t saying them in the first place. ...She _was_ being careful what she said around the two demons who might actually carry it out. So… she _was_ handling the demons just fine. ...Huh.

\--But that didn’t mean that he could just leave her alone with them! And he wouldn’t! That was crazy-dangerous. So he sat on the stage, eyeing them all, with his journal out and at the ready, and took copious notes on their activities instead.

"--e still need to ask Stitched Heart to perform with us!" Jan nodded to himself. "He's actually not that bad. Impressive guitar work for a teenager."

Dipper let out an involuntary snort at this, and Jan raised an eyebrow when he heard it. "What? He practiced long and hard to learn how to play. And he likes it."

Dipper winced. "Sorry," he responded, not knowing what else to say. "I have trouble believing Robbie is any good." Not that Dipper had exactly heard any of Robbie's music aside from that time he’d tried to brainwash Wendy with some music that he hadn’t even written himself, but he didn’t exactly think that Robbie could’ve written anything that was actually good. Just by looking at those posters alone, he was pretty sure it was all really bad to have to hear, real cringe-worthy stuff.

"Well, this'll be a good chance for you to actually hear him play!" Jan told him brightly. "And not something overly edgy like he generally prefers to do…" Jan paused and tilted his head. "Though, I wonder if he's skilled enough to do Dragon Force covers?"

"Stitched-Heart is capable of playing absolutely anything," Bill informed them all, as he took another sip from his cup. "He’s done the hardest of the classics; he can handle any of this." (And that left Dipper blinking and looking over at him as he remembered -- Wendy had sent him a few of those old posters from when Robbie’d been performing classical choral music when he was really little, right? Then again, how good could Robbie have been at age… _whatever_ , a whole bunch of years younger than he and Mabel were right now, if he’d guessed Robbie’s age right from those posters.)

Jan and Mabel continued playing around on the stage for a bit, while Bill finished up his cup of tea and then pulled up his main physical interface (the imagery being displayed and actions-read from the easy-access control panel on the left forearm of his suit) and finished checking on the final calibrations and integrated performance parameters. And once it looked like he was done...

"Well, we should go find Stitched Heart and get this started!" Jan cheered. "We've got rehearsals to prepare for!" He and Mabel had all sorts of outfits planned out already!

Mabel was thrilled for this to happen, ready to get this show on the road! But Dipper was grimacing as he texted Pacifica to warn her of the arrival in town of the possible impending floating ‘fortress’ they were all currently sitting on. Then he texted Wendy next, too.

\---

Robbie shouldered his guitar case and opened the door to head out for the day, then stopped short, hand on the doorknob, as he realized somebody was standing out on the porch outside the screen door, standing out on his back porch.

Then he recognized _who_ it was -- that damn demon, standing there with the _widest_ grin on his face, along with somebody else there behind him -- and Robbie immediately slammed the door closed before he even got as far as looking at whoever else was out there with him. --Nope. _Not today._ Maybe he could pretend he hadn't seen him...

...yeah, right. Like ignoring the demon had worked out well for him the _last_ time. His parents had let him in, and then the demon had played loudly enough on the piano down in the funeral service room that Robbie practically hadn’t been able to hear himself _think_ up in his own room above there, let alone _play_ anything, and the demon had kept going on and on until Robbie had finally given up and--

Robbie winced as he heard the demon's voice call out through the closed door, "Stitched-Heart! It’s stage-breaking-in time! We need to _borrow_ some of your equipment to do it _right!_ " (Ugh, he didn’t really want to hand over any of his stuff to the demon -- it was _expensive!_ The stupid demon might break it! ...Maybe he could sneak out the front door instead.)

Another voice, some guy he’d never heard before, came through the door next. "May we please borrow some equipment? We wanna perform during Woodstick."

...Great. The demon was roping _more_ people into his crazy-demon things, even out-of-towners now. Which meant the front door was probably covered too, or would be in a second if he tried.

Robbie groaned under his breath and rubbed a hand across his face as he tried to think this through. Because, what was the worst thing that could happen, if he actually managed to pull off running away from the demon and whoever else was out there and in on this thing with him? ...If he didn’t let them in, and managed to skip out the front door, could he count on his parents _not_ loaning out his equipment to the demon and his friends? He wasn’t so sure about that…

"Get your own stuff! I'm not letting you borrow mine," Robbie called out through the closed door at them, turning and slumping his back up against it, hoping that the crazy demon didn’t try calling his bluff.

Then Robbie heard the screen door go and... then he heard Mabel's voice come through. "Ummm… Robbie? We just want to sing and play some music together. And Bill said you had the equipment that we need to do it. I don’t think he’ll do anything weird to it. You can come along if you want, to make sure he doesn’t do anything wrong with it?"

Robbie groaned and dropped his head back to thunk against the door behind him softly. Really? The demon had roped the girl twin into this, too?

"Look, I told him, I’m not joining whatever band he wants to do!" Robbie complained. "I’ve already got a band!" He was pretty sure that this was going to turn out to be some kind of trap -- they’d get him to loan them the stuff and then come along with them, and once he was there...

"You can be in more than one band at a time," Robbie heard from the demon, closer-in this time. Ugh, the demon had to be leaning up against the side back door now.

"I was going out to practice," Robbie complained. _Alone._

"You can practice with us! You’re not playing with them right now today," he heard the demon say next.

"You don’t know that," Robbie grumbled out, but it was true; he’d been planning on going out and--

There was a sigh and then that voice Robbie didn't recognize spoke up again, saying, "It's fine. I guess Robbie's too _shy_ to come and perform at Woodstick with us. I'm sure we can get the instruments and speakers somewhere else."

_...What?_ Robbie twitched, then shook his head. "Yeah, you better go get them somewhere else. I’m _already_ gonna be playing at Woodstick this year." Not that Robbie knew that for sure, yet, because they hadn’t sent out the emails yet on who had been selected to perform--

"Don’t want to get it somewhere else," he heard the demon say next. "You can play with both bands this year, you know."

"No, I can’t!" Because-- "You can only sign up for one band at a time, or you get your app for the festival tossed out." It was how they made sure they got enough variety in the acts to make it an actual independent music festival, not just a bunch of look-alike sound-alike posers. Then something occurred to him like a bolt out of the blue, and Robbie felt himself go pale. "Hey. _\--Hey!_ " He straightened away from the door, starting to get angry, because--

Robbie turned towards the back door and yanked it open, glaring. "--You _better_ not have signed me up for _your_ band this year, or we’ll _both_ not end up getting in!" He glared at the demon -- he didn’t want to not make it this time because of a stupid _disqualification_ like _that!_

\--and Robbie stopped short as he caught sight of the demon and that unknown person… who had _four_ arms---- and-- _(the heck?!?)_

"I don’t think we need to register if we’re planning to just crash the festival?" the four-armed… _person?_ Demon? (Was it another demon!? -- _How?!_ Didn’t the old man say he wasn’t going to let Bill bring any of his freaky friends here?!) --Whoever-it-was said it, as they turned and looked directly at Bill. And once Robbie tore his gaze away from staring at all the arms and looked up at the guy’s face, the teenager had to do yet another double-take. This guy… Robbie shook his head. What the heck? He… looked human… mostly. Aside from the arms… Robbie frowned. No, this was definitely some kind of demon or something, those freaky arms had swirling black markings on them that _moved_.

"I’m not gonna play with you," Robbie repeated again instead, backing away a little from the freaky (if admittedly kind of attractive, the jerk) four-armed man.

"It would be more fun if you did." The stranger pouted at him. "Brother said music is your thing, and I really liked when we played together last time."

Played together the last-- what?? Robbie frowned. He didn't remember ever playing together with this demon. But then the first part of that sentence really registered with him, and his eyes widened. "Wait, _brother--?!_ " Robbie's eyes shot over to Bill and things began to come together for him. He opened his mouth in shock, a million different things going through his head as he tried to figure out what to say here, but when he finally did say something it was, "Weren't you a little girl?!"

Bill's sister (brother?!) shrugged at him and said, "I got bored. Thought I'd change it up."

...and Robbie could only lament his life and wish he didn't have to deal with this… (It was just like when the stupid triangle had suddenly decided to be a cool-looking _girl_ and come over to the graveyard every other day, bothering him all over again! But even _worse_ this time, since at least Bill was still freaking recognizable, and definitely a guy once you saw him doing more than just lying there breathing! And Bill’s sister was way too hot as a guy-- nope! Not gonna go down _that_ particular thought. He was _totally_ not jealous of him at all. Freaky four-arms and everything that could probably hold at least two guitars--)

"C’mon, Robbie," was what he heard next, and that was enough to get him poking his head out the door and looking out to the side to see… both Mabel and Dipper standing there. And it sounded like the boy twin was taking no shit today. "If we’ve gotta go along with this, so do you. Where’s the equipment," he said, as he pushed his way into the house past Robbie and the doorway.

("Hey!" Robbie complained as he got past him.)

But Dipper just kept right on going. Because there was no way Dipper was going to suffer through this alone. Misery loved company and Robbie was literally the worst company that he could think of for this. So, why not?

"Just, freaking _hold on_ a second, all right?" Robbie grumbled, shoving past Dipper as he moved back into the back entrance way of his own house. "My equipment, my rules," he said, almost before he realized it, and Robbie was already kicking himself as he heard the far-too-close behind him "HA!" from the crazy triangle demon, who must’ve followed him already into the house next.

"Yay!" Jan cheered, throwing all his hands in the air (in a bit of a chorus with Mabel there, who had cheered the same thing). "You said it! So we’re doing it! No take backs!"

Robbie _groaned_ the way that Dipper kind of wanted to just then. (They looked at each other and shared a common glare.)

"...Right," said Dipper. They might as well get on down to it. "So, where is all this stuff that Bill wants to bring?" he asked him.

\---

(The demons and kids had a wild and wonderful music-filled adventure that day -- well, at least _some_ of them thought it was wonderful, anyway. Ford ended up yelling at them all later that night for it, too. But that's a story for another time.)

\---

To Ford's (eventual) relief, it seemed the man-eater had gotten bored of being a male-gendered object of pure worship after less than twelve hours of going at it, with no noticeable short-term impact on the town (though Ford would have to be vigilant in looking for the usual medium- and longer-term effects that might rear its ugly head later). The man-eater had changed back into their little girl form after a whole wild day of shenanigans around town. (It was a series of events Ford was still frustrated to have missed out on, not least of which had to do with the fact that Stan had simply let the children spend their time with the demons for the entire day after _ordering_ Bill to spend the entire rest of the day around them -- which was dangerous no matter _what_ Stan said about Bill _‘being about to babysit them both properly now’_ \-- and Ford still couldn't believe that his brother had taken that risk!)

...Not that this other ‘little girl’ form of theirs was much better, since the man-eater had _obviously_ made their 'Miz' form small and helpless-looking on purpose in order to lower the defenses of any person who saw it, as some form of ‘easy victim here!’ trap.

In fact the man-eater was clearly trying to invoke some sort of strong empathy-response in him now, looking up at him with those wide eyes, pretending to be nervous, and timid, and--

\--and it _**wasn't going to work!**_ He _refused!_

"Um… mister Ford, can I talk to you? Like, actually have a conversation where we both try to not lose our tempers with each other?" Miz asked him quietly. "Stan can be there too, to tell us to stop if he thinks things are going for a bad turn."

Ford twitched, and he looked up from his book at the kitchen table to glare over at her. "I don’t want to talk to you," he ground out at her firmly. Frankly, he didn’t want this man-eater talking to anyone in his family at all. ~~He felt wary enough at the idea of her continuing to have discussions with Bill Cipher that ended in the demon _hugging_ her. _That_ could not _possibly_ be good for--~~

\--But he _especially_ did not want her talking to _him_. ~~Certainly not after the last _several_ times that this demon who was _trying_ to be a ‘ _Bill Cipher_ ’ had done so, and--~~ \--He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t about to give the demon an _open invitation_ to openly be horribly rude to him, or to try and ‘break’ his mind ~~with Bill as a ‘helpful’ assist~~ all over again.

Stan, on the other hand, gave Miz a level stare over his crossword puzzle book from where he was sitting at the same table. "What did you want to talk to him about?" Stan asked her, running interference for Ford.

Miz sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking," to which Bill raised his head and looked approving (thinking was always good), "--And I think that… my definitions and Ford’s definitions for things aren’t the same for pretty much everything, and I think that might be what’s causing most of the problems we have with each other. So, I thought that maybe we should talk and clarify things?"

Stan raised his eyebrows at this. He wasn’t so sure about that one; hell, he’d had a talk with her and the kid over _why_ Ford kept getting so touchy with her days ago, and that one hadn’t even made the _list_ …

...then again, a lot of what Stan did with the kid was vocabulary concepts and defining terms, and he’d already figured out pretty quick that the kid meant different things than he necessarily sounded most times, _and_ that Ford had never even seemed to realize this. So…

....Yeah, okay. Stan could see how that might be a good idea. _If_ his brother would agree to do it. But even if Ford did, there were a _lot_ of ways this could go wrong, still. One was just the fact that Stan knew how his conversations with the kid usually went on stuff like this, and just trying to talk about this stuff itself could lead to a lot of easy misunderstandings. And that was even if you _weren’t_ trying to look for the worst possible way to take every last thing that somebody said while you were doing it, the way that Ford probably would. And if either of them started fighting over the _‘proper’_ definitions for things, like Bill still did with him sometimes...

Stan sighed, flipped his crossword puzzle book closed (with the pencil stuck in it, marking his place), and tossed it onto the table. (He figured he was gonna need his full attention for this. "Okay, I hear ya. But what are you intending to do with this conversation? Just clarifying your definitions? What are you wanting to get out of it?" Because he figured he’d better work that one out properly first, so he’d have a good place to stand to tell them both when they needed to stop because they weren’t getting anywhere where they were trying to go, if they even ended up doing this thing in the first place.

"I just want to understand." Miz had a strained expression on her face as she said this. "I don’t like misunderstandings that aren’t funny," she insisted. "And I’m misunderstanding Ford a _lot_." ...Well, Stan couldn’t disagree with her there, the demon-dragon-lady really didn’t understand Ford one bit.

Stan looked over at his brother. Ford hadn’t spoken up again yet, but he was listening -- he sure as hell wasn’t _that_ engaged in that book he was reading; Stan could tell.

Stan turned back to the dragon-lady. "Look, if you two want to talk to figure out vocabulary, or somethin’, we’re gonna need some ground rules -- and one of ‘em is that I’m going to be sitting right here listening, and if I say stop, you’re _gonna_ stop when I tell you to, ‘cause I don’t want this thing escalating again like every other time you two have ended up going off at each other, every time you’ve tried talking at each other before this." Stan moved his eyes over to look at Bill. "You want your brother here with you for this kinda conversation as well?"

"Only if he wants to be," was Miz’s reply, to which the older demon made a chittering sound and immediately said, " _Of course_ I want to be. --I _DON'T_ want you alone with Stanley," the kid said almost grumpily, eyeing said Stanley again side-long over this.

"Guess we’ve got our two referee-interpreters, then." Stan let out a breath and turned to his brother. "Well? Do you wanna try to get your ‘definitions’ straightened out with this one?" Stan asked him, tossing a thumb Miz’s way.

But to this, Ford simply set down his book on the table and scoffed. "I don't see how that's important in any way. We don't need to 'understand' each other." Ford felt he knew far more than he needed to know about demons already, thank you. He didn’t particularly care to know what this one thought of him any better, in any sense of the word. And he looked off-put -- and felt rather horrified -- at the very idea of Miz 'understanding him' better, in any way. ~~Because _that_ would likely just mean that her verbal attacks would be that much more _accurate_ and _damaging_ against him -- which was, he felt, the very _last_ thing that he needed from her or anyone else at the moment, thank you.~~ "And quite frankly, I don't want to."

Ford folded his arms, leaning back in his chair, and Stan held back a sigh. (Damnit, Ford. He knew what his brother really meant there, but did he have any idea what that would have just sounded like to anyone else, let alone some crazy not-understanding-him demon?)

Miz was frowning at the scientist. "So… you… _want_ me to keep misunderstanding you?" She sounded both frustrated and confused. "You… want me to keep getting mad at you when we both say things that don't match up and get offended?"

Ford glared at her, while Stan straightened up in his chair a bit and groaned. "--No, that's _not_ what he wants," Stan cut in for him quickly, while shooting his brother another (annoyed) look. Clumsy as it was, Miz _was_ trying here; Stan could tell. Ford trying to shoot down her attempt right outta the gate wasn't gonna help anyone now or later -- like the kids, when some other misunderstanding might happen later with them -- least of all Ford himself right now. "He ain’t explaining himself real well right now. --Ford, _elaborate_ ," Stan told him next.

Ford let out a huff of breath. "Stanley, this is _pointless!_ " he told him. Because yes, he’d realized what his brother had been getting at when he’d more or less pointed out to him days ago that he _hadn’t_ truly been treating the man-eater like the demon she (probably… no, _almost certainly_ ) was. But-- "I don’t _need_ to ‘understand’ a demon any better than I already do -- I _understand_ them well-enough as it is! --They're all _heartless monsters_ that--"

Miz pointed at Ford. "--That. Right there. What exactly is your definition for demon? Because ‘heartless monster’ isn't what mine is."

Ford glared at her. "Whether you use a different _word_ for it is hardly much more than a distraction! --It's _what you **are**._" Ford shot back at her, already more than done with this new ‘game’ of hers, and mad for Stanley playing along with it to begin with. "You are a _monster_ who thinks that the entirety of our living existence is all just some sort of _game_ for you to _play_ at, and take _great fun_ and _delight_ at _messing around with_ other peoples’ lives and their very existence and livelihoods and families--" Ford was gripping at the table now, almost panting for breath in his rage, "-- **destroying** _every last thing_ that you can get your hands on, after you’re all done _toying_ with it, and with _them!_ Because that includes _people_ to you!" Ford was nearly shaking in place now, as he said, " _None_ of you care about anything or any _one_ else in the _least_ , and--!!"

Ford cut himself off at the last, because Stan’s hand came down on his shoulder -- to just sit there, even as Ford flinched and tried to stop shaking in place in his rage. (He’d barely even noticed when Stan had gotten up from his chair and started to make his way over, he’d been so engrossed in the past, in trying to ignore the flashes of horribleness that had flickered across his vision, as he’d almost against his will remembered bit and pieces of--)

Stan stood there and held his hand there on his brother’ shoulder, rubbing it back and forth just a bit, as Ford slowly calmed down, panting for breath. (And yeah, the kid had a hand on top of his sister’s head at the moment. ...Some kinda signal to let Ford speak his piece first for now? Well, whatever it was, Stan was kinda appreciating the help at the moment, whether the kid realized it was the right thing to be doing right now or not. He raised his eyes to the kid’s own, and the kid gave him the shortest of nods as he did it. ...Huh.)

After Ford had calmed down again a bit, and pulled his hands back into his lap (really, more wrapped them around his chest while disguising it as just crossing them in front of him; hell, Ford…), Stan tried to decide whether or not to continue… then thought ‘the hell with it’ (his brother should be able to say ‘stop’ on his own, too, if he needed it) and Stan nodded to Miz. It was her turn.

Miz bit her lip, then took a deep breath and said, "I don't think life is a game. I thought it was a cartoon show, but aside from that, I do SO care about others! I just don't care about _every single_ person that I meet. And just because I don't care for them doesn't mean I immediately kill them, or whatever the heck your definition of a demon will do to people!" And now Miz was shaking a little herself. Because when Ford had called her a monster before… she’d maybe thought he’d meant the kind of monster under the bed that she could laugh at and scare away herself as a triangle. But some of the stuff he’d said just now, about destroying existence and livelihoods and _families?!_ That was-- That was just-- It spoke to something a heck of a lot worse than _that_ , something much **darker** , and--

It left Miz shivering and shaking in place. Because he’d called her that. _He thought she was **that**._ He’d called _her_ and her brother-- her-- her _brother_ \-- ~~had her _brother_ ever--?!?~~

Her brother, who was standing there right next to her, began to pet her slowly, and gently, on top of her head, never looking away from either of his Zodiac as he did it.

Stan stared at Miz for a moment. "...Wait, back up." He cut off both Ford and Miz before they could escalate this whole conversation-fight-thing any further. Because... "You think life… is a _cartoon show?_ " Stan asked Miz incredulously, and… oh, and _now_ he was remembering how Miz had mentioned 'plot' a few times before. How she was supposed to move ‘the plot' along in her own dimension… ~~(hell, she hadn't been talking about moving around _land_ now, had she…)~~

Miz grimaced down at the ground and shuffled her feet. "Thought. I know it’s my reality now, but back when I was human," she stated, "There was a children's cartoon show that I really liked." She looked a little embarrassed (the heck?) as she said... "It was called Gravity Falls, and it was about a pair of children spending a summer with their great uncle, discovering supernatural mysteries and eventually defeating a triangle demon…" Miz was blushing now. "It was one of my favorite shows."

Stan stared at her. So did Ford.

Bill let out one of his ‘so annoying’ chitters and literally tossed his free hand up in the air, as if he was discarding the idea out of hand, almost. "It’s fine," the demon told them both. "That happens sometimes."

"That--" Ford looked like he was trying to wrap his head around that one, and gearing up to very much not like the idea of that one bit. "What--"

"--It happens _more often than you might think_ ," Bill emphasized, giving Ford a long look.

"Kid, what _the hell?_ " Stan said next, completing Ford’s sentence, because… what the hell?

Ford, for his part, seemed to get unstuck once Stan got the thought out there for him, and now he looked absolutely irate. "Just because the multiverse is infinite, _doesn’t_ mean that--"

"--our dimensional set, taken on its own, _isn't_ actually infinite," Bill drawled out, both interrupting and contradicting him. "The stupid lizard is _lazy_ , yes -- the stupid thing _just_ got done spinning up a dimension for Pine Tree and Shooting Star to land in that we _just_ got done visiting _THAT DIDN'T EXIST HERE BEFORE_ ," the demon-kid thundered out at them next, cutting Ford off before looking up at Stan. "--But _that doesn’t mean anything_ ," Bill continued, gearing up to apparently what was supposed to be his main point.

"Ford, give the kid a minute, here," Stan said slowly almost under his breath, not looking away from the kid. "Pretty sure this might be important." He heard an agitated huff from his brother, but Ford stayed silent next to him, annd Stan counted his small blessings.

"Look," Bill began again, glancing between them. "The multiverse may not be infinite, but the Mindscape is _EVERYWHERE_. Thoughts _travel_. The ‘collective unconscious’ -- the way _you_ humans think of it -- _isn’t_ a thing," Bill put out there, " _But!_ Everyone’s so-called ‘Dreamscapes’," the kid shot an annoyed look Ford's way, " _Do_ connect out to the general Mindscape -- _not_ just their own internal one -- and _sometimes_ , when that happens, thoughts and events that cause a big enough _'ripple'_ in the general Mindscape can _travel_. And then people in other dimensions can get ‘glimpses’ of those events that happen in other dimensions inside of their _dreams_ without anyone else actually trying to put it there. And sometimes, the people who get those 'glimpses' even decide to _WRITE IT ALL DOWN_ in a book, or into a _screenplay_ , and make it all into a SHOW. -- _It happens_ sometimes. That’s all. --You don’t need an infinity to get a bunch of so-called ‘repetitions’; things just need to impact each other. Like that." The kid shrugged.

Stan stared at the kid, because, really? This was a thing?

"And sometimes some of the higher-level beings and demons with some form of Sight or spying capability are lazy and just go _looking_ for things that they can steal and pass off as their own **on purpose**. Multidimensional ‘reality TV’, _woop_ -dee-do -- so what," Bill said next, almost in disgust, waving _that_ one off, too. "It isn’t necessarily _accurate_ most of the time." After all, not everybody had 20/∞ vision like _he_ did! "And spending time chasing every ‘echo’ of something down the ostrich hole, trying to figure that one out, just isn’t _worth_ it, most of the time," Bill told them all next. "I’ve even been communicating with two ‘blogs’ that are linked to a dimension that I haven’t really Looked into... _much_ from the outside-here yet, and..." he didn’t really want to talk about it, because he’d only just realized what he’d done wrong and only just recently _fixed_ , last time he’d make assumptions on anything there… --Though admittedly that was mostly only because he hadn’t been able to use his All-Seeing Eye, to See into it properly, before, so the blame for that could largely be laid at Stanley’s own feet, he was certain.

(And even if he could have done it at the time, that much earlier, Bill also wouldn’t have wanted to try it at a time when he’d known that _other_ Bill Cipher from that _other_ dimensional set might have potentially been watching -- watching that dimension while the connection was still present -- and potentially _noticed_ his own ‘Eye-spying’ somehow(?!?!). Bill hadn’t wanted to risk… well, Stanley getting angry at him if he ran into a problem with that, with that _other_ Bill Cipher who he didn’t understand at all yet, later. Ha. -- _Anyway_...)

"...that dimension does seem to have a cartoon show like that. --I’ve been reading your blogposts there," he told Miz, not wanting to go into too much detail on her own role in the ongoing connections (let alone why and how that dimension existed in his dimensional set because of her in the first place…) "And it’s _half_ the reason why I’m not worried about any of those idiots -- or anyone else -- ‘finding out’ who I am when I write things to any of the blogs over there," he told Stan next somewhat absently, waving it off. "They won’t ever think any of us could possibly be real there, because of that show." After all, why would any of the locals there think he was actually ‘the _real_ Bill Cipher’ even if he said who he was, when there was a perfectly good explanation for why someone -- or several someones -- might want to pretend to be him over there, because of that apparently somewhat-popular show...

"There were a lot of role-playing blogs where people pretended to be characters from the show," Miz shrugged, explaining the concept a bit better to the two older men in front of her. "It happened a lot."

"I could see how the energy signals from the communication lines connected to that time-distorted hyperdimensional whatsit were flowing into and out of that dimension, and I was able to decipher the datastreams as part of that, then access it myself -- no weirdness necessary." Bill carefully left out how he’d been sending communications _to_ that dimension there, though, really not wanting to get into _that_ whole mess with either of his Zodiac right then. "The ‘Gravity Falls’ cartoon show they have _there_ isn’t of any concern to ME; from what I could access from their own networked world-wide-internet, it seems _FAR_ too general in the whole," and far too skimpy on any specifics, "-to be of any use or detriment to anyone else." Meaning: other demons who might try and take advantage of any information therein. "I didn’t bother to check how much of it was accurate. That’s generally a waste of time."

After all, even if someone was necessarily accurate on the generalities, being more attuned to the finer happenings of one specific dimension that they were somehow seeing glimpses of in their dreams… most of the devilish-details just didn’t make it through the Mindscape to ‘Dreamscape’ to awakening process intact, and the final product of any of the forms of entertainment that Bill ever saw come out of something like that were always dodgy at-best. And even though Bill could track down the Dreamer connected to those sorts of things properly -- if there even was one to begin with, coincidences did happen -- it wasn’t as though anyone could necessarily _mine_ any of those dreams for more useful information than one would get just by viewing that singular dimension oneself directly, not even himself. And trying to do things that way, rather than just going with direct-viewing, usually disrupted or broke the Dreamer’s connection to that dimension, if he tried! --It just wasn’t worth it. Dreamers were all well and good, but Bill had found out over the years that only _Sensitives_ could do that sort of thing with any consistency at all, and...

"But the portal specifications--" Ford said urgently, suddenly looking _alarmed_ , and Stan turned to look down at him, blinking in shock, because he hadn’t thought of _that_ at all--

"-- _Relax_ , Sixer. The ‘portal blueprints’ they dreamed up there were a load of garbage that will never get them anywhere," the kid told them both, to the tune of Ford letting out something of a breath of relief, which honestly left Stan feeling a little bit odd. "And so is the 'math'. -- _That_ , I checked," the kid told them next. (Bill hadn’t checked much else besides that for anything to do with the show, though, other than the general-basics of having noted that 'he' was known there in the form of a character from some cartoon show that was there and apparently also ‘a thing’ for some people there, too.) "Even when it’s a thing, the details usually get lost, or rewritten entirely. So even when it is, it _isn’t_. --Don’t worry about it," the kid repeated. "It’s just your normal weird fluke," the kid shrugged off, completely unconcerned with all of it.

"...Right," Stan said slowly, feeling a little off-balance at this for a moment. "So, uh……... should I be claiming royalties or somethin’ outta these people?" he asked next, to a "HA!" outta the kid, and the usual sort of not-so-happy with him for 'not takin’ things seriously' kind of annoyed exclamation out of Ford. (Welp, at least that lightened the mood a bit.) Stan shook his head and asked Miz next, "Right. So, you think you saw some kinda cartoon show that maybe was a little like all of us, way back when, when you were a human." Talk about weird, hell. "What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

Miz continued, "Well, the show had a yellow triangle demon named Bill Cipher in it. So when I died and woke up as a yellow triangle, I kinda thought… well…" She shrugged helplessly. "I don’t go around killing people for fun or anything, though, and ah… well…" Here, she looked a little guilty. "Even when I tried to go against the ‘plot’ I remember from the show, certain events still happened, like fixed points…" She looked solemn. "Like the destruction of the 2nd dimension. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it still did."

Bill, who had placed a hand on her head earlier, started petting her on the head again gently.

("Not your fault," Bill reminded her under his breath. Because it _wasn’t_. Her. Fault.)

"So I figured, if the same things are going to happen, regardless of what I do, then I should plan out how to make them happen, but in _my own_ way. If I could hit all the points I need with the least amount of pain and suffering for the people around me somehow…"

(Bill visibly twitched at this.)

Ford… looked _irate_. "Are you honestly telling me that you’re going to continue to destroy dimensions, and kill hundreds of trillions of people, all because you saw a _TV show_ where something like that happened once?!" Ford grated out at her, slamming his hands into the table again and shoving himself to his feet. (And Stan didn’t even try to stop him that time.)

Miz managed to keep her cool, but only barely. "That ISN'T what I do at all! --I think this is another definition problem. I don't go around killing and enslaving people. I have jobs from Time Baby sometimes, but for the most part I just travel and learn things. Make Deals, create planets and hang out with my friends." Miz groaned. "And aside from what happened to the 2nd dimension, I've never destroyed any other dimension. Ever," she told him firmly. "Dad would get upset if I did that on purpose -- or even by accident or something," she added quickly, trying to cut off what she realized would probably be Ford’s next argument there. "And I don't want to make him upset. And I literally have no reason or desire to do so, so I don't. Less dimensions would mean less places for me to hang out! That’d be boring!" she added, giving a selfish reason for why she’d want that something she was talking about, just like Stan had told her to do.

But Ford was still shaking his head and looking just as angry. "You say that _now_ , but even if you’re telling the truth," and it was clear that Ford did _not_ think that was the case, "You yourself have stated before that you _want_ to be like _Bill Cipher!_ " Ford said, pointing at Bill roughly.

Bill narrowed his eyes at Ford.

"Our definition of Bill Cipher is different too." Miz sighed, rubbing a hand across her face.

And Bill went a little bit still at that, blinking as he looked down at her.

"...He _does_ always get me wrong whenever he thinks of me inside his head," Bill said, in an odd, almost uneasy tone of voice.

"This isn’t about _definitions!_ " Ford insisted, slamming a fist into the table beside him. "It’s about _basic facts--!_ "

"--Look, I don’t know what idea you have of Bill Cipher inside of your head," Miz told him, "But clearly it’s wrong and not me!!" Miz looked frustrated. "I don’t want to do those kinds of things to people, ever! But if the same thing’s going to happen, regardless of how I try to stop it from happening, and generally end up _worse_ because I tried to _stop_ it, then why shouldn’t I do it on purpose in a way that I _can_ control and mitigate the damage?"

"You said you want to be like him!!" Ford repeated angrily. "To be _more_ like him! -- _Who do you think that he is?!?!?_ " he yelled out at her, feeling almost a sense of disconnect at the very idea that she was _trying_ to somehow make some case for being-- being _less bad_ than he actually was!?!?!

Miz flinched back a little at the yelling. "...a triangle…" she mumbled. "...with magical powers…" She looked almost embarrassed.

Ford let out a strangled sound, and stared at her in absolute and pure disbelief at what he was hearing just then.

"--there wasn’t all _that_ much to go on from the show, aside from some fan-theories and stuff--" Miz whined. "--but from what little we got from the show-writer--"

And as Miz continued talking and talking, Ford stared down at her with a growing sense of absolute horror. Because… he’d completely misread the situation here. Miz… _somehow_... had _absolutely no idea_ who Bill Cipher actually was. What he was. What he was _like_. This man-eater -- demon -- _whatever_ she was -- had _absolutely no idea_ , and-- and she was here now and-- and looking for _guidance_ from him?! From _Bill Cipher!?_ On how to be a _**"better" demon???**_ \--Just like him, when she didn’t know who he even really _was?!?_

Oh no. Oh, no no no. No, that couldn’t be true. She was already too-- _No._ No. That just _couldn’t_ be--

"--but there was clearly something I was supposed to go with, people treated me as if I was like that, even when I didn’t do anything remotely close to it, so they must have some idea of what I’m supposed to be like--"

Ford began shaking his head in pure disbelief. A ‘magical triangle’ with ‘powers’. This couldn’t be right. No. She _had_ to-- _had to_ be lying to him-- _nobody_ was this stupid and wrong, or just plain _blind_ , about anything--

~~_\--he himself had thought Bill was a true and dear friend to him, once--_ ~~

\--She had a sense of _empathy_ she hadn’t been able to _shut off herself_ , for Axolotl’s sake!!! She must have been able to sense such things from him directly. --She _had_ to know better!

"--yeah he was a villain in the show, but that’s because it was from the human’s point of view so--"

"-- _Stop talking_ ," Ford choked out, too many emotions swirling through his heart and chest and brain to try and catalogue or deal with at the moment. "Stop talking, _now_." He could barely think, over the noise and the confusion running through him just then. But what Ford _did_ know was that this just wasn’t right, wasn’t _anything_ like right, none of it, and--

Stan glanced over at his brother, who kept shifting between looking red and looking a little bit pale, over and over again, and (thankfully) Miz closed her mouth when he told her to and stopped talking. She didn't look all that happy though.

...Largely, because Miz wasn’t stupid. She knew this wasn’t going well, and she was having trouble figuring out how to deal properly with Ford. He was rejecting her off the bat without even attempting to understand her. Reminded her a lot of the debates she'd had with some racists to try and get them to stop being mean and rude to people, never worked.

"...Bill," Stan said slowly, wondering if he was making a really big mistake here in asking him... "You got any idea how the hell to get these two seeing eye to eye here?" Because Stan didn’t know a hell of a lot about ‘Bill Cipher, the crazy triangle demon’, but he sure as hell knew some things about the kid who’d been talking his ear off the past few weeks, here and there, on the regular. But that didn’t mean that he knew all the crazy demon stuff the kid had gotten up to before he’d punched the demon into pieces inside his head. And that sure as hell didn’t mean that he knew what to say about the kid in front of both Ford and the kid’s new sister, that wouldn’t maybe cause some even bigger problems pretty damn quickly… like an even bigger shouting match between Ford, who didn’t want to talk about other dimensions and all the shit he’d lived through that the demon had probably pulled, and Miz, who didn’t seem to want to think much of anything _she_ thought was ‘bad’ about her brother...

But what the kid said next wasn’t what Stan had been expecting at all. The kid didn’t try and ‘define’ himself better to any of them. Bill just looked down at Miz, his eyebrows slightly raised, with a slight frown on his face, and he didn’t do anything like what Stan had been expecting him to do, at all.

Instead, what he did was say...

"...Your idea of…" Bill paused, as he looked down at his sister. "Your ‘morality’ is…" and Bill trailed off, his eyes jittering slightly from side-to-side for a moment. "...flat," Bill said next, then seemed to shake himself mentally, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before correcting himself slightly, saying, "-Ish. It’s… flat- _ish_. Not… _flat_ -flat, or flatter-than-flat, but..." Bill pulled in a breath as he thought. "--It’s mostly the same as that Stanford’s," Bill said finally, sounding a little odd again, and…

...Bill felt a little bit odd, just left of weird, as it finally occurred to him that this was, in fact, the case. Because after what had happened in that dimension with the human-looking, always-been-human Bill… and in thinking about some of the things that Miz had said to him before in this new context that she’d all just given them now...

Bill’s hand twitched upwards slightly on top of her head reflexively, without anything that resembled in any way conscious thought.

Ford stared at Bill, absolutely aghast at Bill’s belief that the man-eater’s morality was-- "Her morality _isn’t_ like _mine!_ " Ford protested. "I don’t think that it’s funny or a _joke_ to run around _killing people!!_ " he yelled out at them.

"...And neither does she," Bill murmured out, frowning ever so slightly. "She doesn’t like it when ‘innocents’ get hurt," he added, tilting his head as he looked at her, slightly.

Miz nodded. She’d said that very thing when she’d created that Toybox back in that other dimension where demons could do all sorts of awful things to ‘not-real’ people instead of ‘real’ people. (Not that Bill had quite gotten into the finer details of philosophy with her on the issues posed by that particular way of thinking back then, or just yet, that ‘having a soul’ meant it wasn’t okay to torture someone and kill them, and ‘not having a soul’ made anything and everything you did to them _just fine_... a way of thinking that _very_ closely resembled the way that all demons-from-the-outside thought about the people-playthings here that _clearly_ weren’t demonic individuals that were anything like they were at all… but then again, his sister had _created_ all those constructs so perhaps in that way...)

"What?" Ford said, taken aback. Because _that_ clearly wasn’t true. If it was, she wouldn’t have ever treated _him_ the way that she did! If she did believe that, she never would have ever hurt _him!_ Or the niblings! Or--!

(Stan was watching the kid carefully, because something didn’t feel right about this… He’d felt this kind of confusion in the air like this before -- and a _missing_ tension, like it _should’ve_ been hanging in the air, but wasn’t yet -- and when he had...)

Ford shook his head roughly. --Better not to even bother with attacking the most obvious of surface lies, here. He knew Stan would have been able to see through that one easily without any help. "She clearly doesn’t know how to act around other people, and doesn’t care when she gets it all wrong," Ford told Bill, as if the dream demon didn’t know. " _\--You don’t know right from wrong, and don’t care about it,_ " Ford insisted, addressing Miz directly, trying to avoid all the flash and noise at the surface of things, to dig down straight to the main issue here instead.

"Yes?" Miz shrugged, agreeing with him without issue. "I _don't_ know anymore what counts as right or wrong. But I _do_ care about it," she told him. "I just… I know that there are some things that make me feel bad when I do them, and it’s generally on a case by case basis, okay? That’s pretty much all I have to go by," she told him with a huff. "Like, I don't like to harm people who haven't done anything to me, but there are some people who haven't done anything to **me** that I DO want to harm. Like pedophilic rapists. I like to hunt them down and make them suffer." She let out another huff of breath again. "And from all the things I’ve seen, I don’t think there’s a way to even really _define_ a real universal right or wrong, so I just go by how I _feel_ about stuff. Is that really so wrong?" she ended up asking him. Because it wasn’t like her dad or Time Baby had really complained all that much about it! (Well, maybe Time Baby did, but her dad certainly hadn’t! And he was really good! He would’ve told her if that was really wrong for her to do... right? He had told her sometimes when she did certain things that she should **-Calm down-** so clearly he DID have an opinion on what she did!)

Ford was feeling faint as he stood there, and left utterly speechless, as he listened to this. Because hearing this man-eater talk about how she always did what she _felt_ was right, at any given moment, was just...

... _wrong_. It was wrong, and wrong, and there were universal _evils_ , just as there were universal truths, and if she didn’t realize that, then--!

Meanwhile, Bill was thinking heavy, and hard, just then. And something had occurred -- and was occurring -- to him, in waves and wavefronts, though trying to express the information in some sort of easily-relatable-to-humans manner, let alone in causal relationships to each other, was taking him a bit of work, as well.

"You… have been feeling other peoples’ emotions, and hearing their thoughts, for a very long time," Bill said slowly to Miz. "That is… likely on average the ‘norm’ within the standard deviation of the ‘good’ side of ‘good versus evil’ morality. Yes? --But is that what _YOU_ want?" he asked her, slowly building up steam. "Is that what you do and still think and feel now, for your own self, after blocking all the rest of everyone else out from your own thoughts and emotions and being? And-- _want_ to keep on feeling, without changing it all again later?" Bill asked her directly, trying to confirm something with her before he went any further.

Miz blinked up at him. "I don't know," she admitted. "I haven't really had…" she frowned. "I don't know yet," she decided. "I'm still learning. And, I don't know what I _want_ to feel or think yet." She’d never really thought about that. She’d just… always gone with whatever it was she was feeling at the moment. The idea of choosing who she wanted to be… that… she’d never really gotten to do that before. Other people had always told her how she was supposed to be. That was ‘normal’, wasn’t it?

Stan glanced over at his brother, who’d been pretty quiet there now for awhile. Ford was standing there, staring at Miz, as she said this. He looked like he was breathing only shallowly, and he was looking a little wide-eyed and pale. Stan slowly put his hand on his brother’s shoulder again, but he didn’t react to it this time; he didn’t even seem to feel it.

"I…" Bill’s expression went through several, _continually-changing_ flashes of emotion, and Ford seemed to bristle again and again under Stan’s touch. "--thiiiink…"

"-- _Don’t you dare_ , Bill," Ford ground out almost breathily, with a terrible anger in his eyes as he suddenly realized that, "You’re going to _ruin_ her."

And Bill visibly flinched and _took a step back_ away from her in an instant, lifting his hand away from her head completely. (And whatever expression the kid had had slowly-growing on his face just before that? Left his face just as quickly as that, too. Stan frowned a bit, because that had been _almost_ a grin there, but… it hadn’t looked like any of the ones Stan had seen out of the kid before, and it worried him that--)

Stan straightened slightly in alarm as he watched this happen, and he felt the immediate increase in tension in his brother’s shoulder under where he was holding his hand -- his brother had been surprised by Bill’s reaction, too. _Moving away from her_ like that at what Ford had just said to him.

(Hell, so was Stan. That had sounded like a challenge or a command, coming outta Ford like that -- but the kid had reacted _instantly_ to it, almost reflexively, in a _really_ bad way.)

\--But then the kid whipped his head around towards Ford after a beat, to glare at him, and if looks could kill-- "I’m NOT going to DO THAT!!" Bill shouted out at him, in that dual-toned high-and-low-pitched voice Stan had only really heard the kid do when he was a triangle before, that now the kid only did when getting _that_ stressed. "She’s _MY SISTER!!_ " And… holy shit, the kid really did look _seriously_ freaked out right now, under all the raging anger on top and out on display, because from the look in his eyes and his posture-- " _I--_ " Bill snapped his mouth shut again, then turned away from Ford and opened it again, and before Stan or anyone else could stop him, the kid blurted out, rattled off at her quickly--

"--You’re still _stuck_ in that stupid **flat** karmic cycle, and if your stupid lizard is ‘good’ and you are registered as its opposite, then you are registered as _‘evil’_ , and if you have _not been wanting_ to have those certain things _happen_ , but they still happen _anyway_ , _no matter what_ you do or don’t do to try and not-do them--" Bill looked up at her directly, looking irate (but not with her), "--then it’s _PROBABLY BECAUSE_ you are ‘evil’ and what you want is the _direct opposite_ of what karma wants to give you, because of that," Bill told her, while still looking tense. "‘Evil’ doesn’t get what it _really_ wants, _EVER_ , when it comes to that stupid Karma system," Bill told her. "Whether you want that or not, you _NEED_ to disconnect from it **NOW** , before it turns all of _reality_ against you again, or _’self’- **sabotages**_ you even further!! --I WANT you to be ABLE to make YOUR OWN decisions here, and SEE them THROUGH!!! _Even if_ \--" Bill cut himself off rather abruptly, looking strained, with his hands curled into slight fists at his sides.

Miz curled in on herself. "How do I do that?" she asked quietly. "I don't want to have to break my bond with dad…"

"You shouldn’t HAVE to be his opposite!" Bill told her -- almost yelled out at her, shit; Stan winced. "You shouldn’t have to be ANYTHING that you DON’T WANT to be, or DO anything you DON’T WANT to DO!!" Bill’s voice was getting higher and higher, and those vibrating weird odd undertones the kid’s voice sometimes got were sneaking in there again. "That’s NOT right, that’s NOT _’fair play'_ , that’s-- that’s--" (Ford was staring at the kid now, like something was slowly dawning on him, and Stan pressed his hand down on Ford’s shoulder a little bit -- not now Ford, not now, c’mon, geez…)

"--But he took me in after the 2nd dimension was destroyed." Miz weakly protested. "And all he's really asked of me is to uphold my pillar and be his opposite. And I still don't really know what that means." Miz shook her head, looking frustrated. "But beyond all that, I didn't actually know for sure if I really was the Bill Cipher of my dimensional set until I met my AXOLOTL. And he… well…" she grimaced. "He said that I wasn't what he was expecting… I _was_ the Bill of my dimensional set, but I wasn't the Bill he'd meant to get." Miz seemed saddened to admit that. "And I don't know, I guess, part of me wanted to be the Bill that maybe he'd wanted. Because I thought that was what he meant when he told me that I was Bill Cipher, but not the _right_ Bill Cipher…"

"--no _no_ NO!" Bill protested. "I’ve TOLD you BEFORE! You _don’t_ have to be _anything_ that _someone else_ WANTS!!" Bill told her, reaching out to take her by the shoulders (and for a moment, Stan almost thought Bill was about to start shaking her, he looked so angry and tense and insane about something). "What _other people want_ **isn’t IMPORTANT!!** \-- _YOU_ SHOULD BE **YOU!!!** " Bill told her. "The stupid lizard is-- _stupid!!_ And yours is, TOO!! And the _only_ reason _ANYONE_ **EVER** tries to tell someone else that they WANT them to be SOMEONE ELSE is--" Bill gritted his teeth. "It’s NOT fair to play things that way. It’s NOT--"

(It was about this point that Ford was left absolutely speechless again at the sheer hypocrisy he was seeing out on display here, _right in front of him_ …)

"--The only reason that ANYONE, that that _stupid lizard_ would want you to do something like THAT, would be if-- if--" and here, Bill cut himself off with a look of dawning horrified realization. "Would be if-- if-- if--" Bill went completely upright and rigid, as he sounded out and climbed over the logical barrier, and realized -- and then said -- "If _it_ **got something out of it** , _too_ ," Bill breathed out, before looking absolutely _livid_ all over again. Because it was _USING_ her for something, making her DO things that she _really DIDN’T WANT TO do_ , and--

(...And it was about this point that Stan grimly confirmed something that he’d been suspecting for awhile now. The kid always, _always_ down-talked the ‘stupid lizard’, _every_ damn chance that he got. But when push came to shove? The kid always seemed to _also_ have some sort of a blind spot, when it came to that god-lizard thing of his. Because the kid never seemed to actually think -- all that easily, mind you, and certainly not on his own when the dragon-lady wasn’t involved -- that the lizard would actually, **actively** do anything really, really _wrong_...)

(...because _every single time_ the dragon-lady told him something seriously messed-up sounding about _her_ lizard, it seemed to bowl the kid over every. _Single_. Damn. Time.)

(It left Stan feeling almost sorry for the kid. Almost.)

"Dad wouldn't do that." Miz's breath hitched as she trembled. Sure, she might have thought about it as a possibility-- but never _seriously_. "H-he wouldn't--" her eyes were tearing up and she was trying in vain to keep her voice steady. "--j-just-- he can't _just_ be using me--and even if he was I--" It would hurt… but she’d still _accept_ it. So long as she could be _wanted_. And… didn’t that just make her a fucked up person?

"Everybody wants _something_ ," Bill told her, "As long as they keep wanting to be alive. -- _I_ want you to BE HAPPY and HAVE FUN," Bill told her, "And--" then he paused, and seemed to realize something as he stared down at her face, and her expression, and he seemed to tense up all over again. "Iiiiiii……(?!)" he said, then seemed to mentally pull himself out and away from whatever hole he’d just about dug himself down into, "--want, _that’s_ , -- _you needed to know this_ , I-- I-- you weren’t being happy _before_ , when these things were happening, they _keep on happening_ , it’s-- I’m not making this _badly_ -any-worse, not _that_ kind of worse!!-- not!!-- I’m NOT just trying to _shift around_ the feeling-bad either-- I’m trying to _make things better_ for YOU--!! _I am!!_ \--I-I --If you know this _NOW_ then _all_ the things can be better-- the _better_ kind of worse-- sooner-- better-- _more_ \-- it’s-- it’s just a _little bad_ now, for-for _EVERYTHING_ being _better_ than just-bad almost- _right-away_ not-too-much-later--!!" and his voice was starting to rise all over again as Bill verbally (and physically) flailed (his arms and hands) about, trying to backtrack without backtracking what he was trying to do here for her, that he’d just realized was obviously upsetting and hurting her, because he was the one telling her this...

And Stan wanted to interrupt, to get Bill to back down for now. Because Ford was upset as hell already, and Miz was _crying_ now, and Bill looked like he didn't know how to handle this in any way, shape, or form, _at all_ with her...

...so Stan did. He let go of his brother’s shoulder to take the three steps forward that he needed to, to put his own hand down on top of Bill’s head.

"I-- I… I……..." Bill wound down, looking three kinds of miserable as he looked down at his sister and his shoulders slumped a little bit in place. His hands dropped down to hang at his sides, and...

...Stan took over for him, before things got any worse here. "You’re wanting to tell your sister the truth, because a little hurt now means a lot less hurt overall later, before things maybe get any worse, even worse later," Stan said for the kid, trying to translate into normal-people-speak what he was pretty sure that the kid was actually _trying_ to tell his little sister, here. "You aren’t trying to hurt her--" Stan winced, as Bill literally _shoved himself back_ against Stan’s chest, physically trying to back himself away from and not touch the dragon-lady again. Those two hands he’d been flailing about with, and had hovering on top of one of her shoulders, barely even touching her at the end of everything there? He’d just ripped himself away from her in an instant, like she’d been on fire and _he’d_ been the one _causing_ the fire.

"--Nope, wrong thing, kid. --You two, hug it out. No talking for awhile. C’mon," Stan said, moving the hand on the kid’s head down to the demon-kid’s back and pushing -- then _shoving_ him forward, telling him, "You’re not gonna freaking break her by touching her, kid," --until the kid actually did it. "Yup. Good job, there, kid," Stan told him after the kid had finally, and with almost-glacial slowness finished wrapping his arms around his little sister again, and his little sister had buried her head in the kid’s chest and wrapped her arms around him almost-immediately right back... and then, and only then, Stan moved the hand at the kid’s back, back up to the top of the kid’s head, to let it stay on top of him there. (And Stan glanced back over his shoulder at Ford, who was staring at this, looking a little grey almost, and… he saw his brother lower his head slightly and raise a hand, to pass it over his face.)

Stan sighed. (...Yeah, he’d called it. This whole thing _had_ been headed for all kinds of screwed-up, there. Hell.)

Miz clung to Bill and muffled her sobs into his chest. "D-daddy w-wo-wouldn't-- he can't-- why--" she didn't want to believe it. But what reason would Ax even have for-- why?!

(Of _course_ no one would **want** her without wanting to _use_ her somehow.)

Stan was watching his brother and Ford seemed to have a lot on his mind, none of it good.

And then Ford slowly raised his head, and lowered his hand away from his face, and said to Bill, in a very quiet but horribly angry tone, "You did it to me."

(‘Oh, shit,’ thought Stan, as he turned his head to stare at his brother. _Not now._ He didn’t have a handle on the demons right now, not _really_ \--)

Bill turned his head towards him slowly, and Ford clenched his jaw. "You _never_ treated me like myself." His fists were clenched at his sides ~~and his chest felt like he was being stabbed in it, all over again~~. "You were always _waiting_ and _waiting_ for something -- _watching_ , and _waiting_ , and-- did you _really_ think that I didn’t notice?!" Ford said, his voice rising. "That I _didn’t try?_ " _To try to be what you wanted??_ "And then, after-- after _the portal_ \-- I--" Ford was shaking in place at this point. "You _never stopped trying_ to **make** me into--" _what you wanted!_ "You--"

~~_\--It hurt. It hurt **so much**. To see that Bill **was** actually capable of this, of-- of _trying_ to care for another full-blown and fully-independent individual-- capable of actually _caring_ about another different and completely-separate **person** than the demon himself-- to see that Bill was-- it was-- _this_ was-- _so wrong_ \-- no-- no-- **why her and not him** \-- why wasn’t **he** the one to deserve-- why-- wasn’t he **good** enough to be the one to deserve--?! **no** \-- he couldn’t-- this wasn’t-- that man-eater was **horrible** \-- **this wasn’t fair** \--_ ~~

~~_\-- **why** hadn't Bill cared about him?! Why-- why had he **refused** to-- why couldn’t he just-- what was the **difference** here?! Why **her** and not **him?!?** \--What was so **wrong** with him, that **Bill didn’t**_ **want _him_** _\--?! But the demon liked and wanted **her** \--_ ~~

But Ford stopped talking at the look on Bill’s face. The _confused_ look on Bill’s face.

\--And _that_ just made Ford _**even angrier**_.

"-- _Your brother_ has _collapsed_ nine different dimensions to-date!" Ford snapped out at Miz next. ~~(Trying to go for the throat. Trying to hurt Bill back. Because if he couldn’t take Bill away from **her** , then he would simply do the opposite--)~~ (Trying to get her _away_ from Bill Cipher before--) "And destabilized and then _taken over_ **thousands** of others!" Because if she _really_ had _any_ sense of decency in her _at all_ , then she should be _horrified_ by the fact that-- "He's _not_ a good--"

"-- _Fifteen_ ," Bill interrupted him, glaring. (Though it wasn’t his usual burning-hot glare. This one looked a hell of a lot tired and older to Stan, and...)

"--What?" Ford said, halting in the middle of his tirade.

"I’ve destabilized and collapsed fifteen dimensions," Bill corrected him, in a tired, yet ‘factual’ tone of voice. "And five of the ones _you’ve_ heard about, _I_ took credit for, after killing everyone who did it, everyone who was involved, everyone who _knew_ anyone who was involved, and everyone who knew any of _them_. And then burned down anything and everything that any of all of _them_ had ever touched," Bill stated almost emotionlessly.

"...Why?" Miz asked him, looking up at him with a strained expression on her face. Though it seemed more from her crying than any sort of negative judgment towards his actions.

Bill looked down at his little sister, and he said:

"Because it’s too dangerous for anyone else to know. I can’t trust anyone else with it."

"You--" Ford stared at him, almost blue-screened for a moment at what Bill had just admitted there, at the utter evil and depravity of it…

...and then Ford let out a dark chuckle, as he realized the **real reason _why_ Bill had done it.**

****

****

"--You didn’t want to risk anyone else _learning_ how to finish collapsing that _space_ you were hiding in!" Ford grated out, irate that _this_ was Bill’s reason for _so much death_. This greed of and for _unshared knowledge_ , only for **him** to have and to hold--

"-- _I was **keeping** the rest of those **demons** from finding it out!_" Bill snapped out at him, just as mad, if not moreso. "Once _they_ learn something, it spreads like _**wildfire**_ between them -- if _any_ of them EVER learn how to do it, it would _NEVER STOP!!!_ " Bill told him, looking downright furious, "They’d _take down_ EVERYTHING!" Bill yelled out at him, and it brought Stanford up short.

"I haven't collapsed any dimensions, that I know of… just destroyed the 2nd by accident and created the 3rd…" Miz muttered out, as she wiped at her eyes. "But you wouldn't have done such a thing unless you had a reason for it." She didn't let go of Bill though. "It would be a waste of time and energy if you didn't have a reason." She understood her brother well enough by this point to know this.

"Yes, but _he_ doesn’t care about that," Bill said, with a ‘tch’, "To _him_ , his too-flat ‘morality’ doesn’t ever let him ‘justify’ _that_ sort of thing, ever, _for any reason_ \--"

And then Bill realized what he’d just said (and, further, what might actually really be happening now, given the line of reasoning he’d just followed, continued on from before, about how _Miz’s_ ‘morality’ was flat-ish in almost **exactly** the same way as _that Stanford’s_ ) and Bill immediately stopped talking, stopped short, almost freezing in place.

Miz sniffled. "Everyone has some reason for doing what they do. There are things that can be justified or forgiven. And there are also things that can't…" She rubbed her face against Bill's chest and asked quietly, "What was your reason?"

And Bill suddenly got the most pained and painful look that Stan had ever seen on anybody in his _life_ \--

And Stan felt an odd sort of muted almost-panic, as he watched the kid tilt his head back _all_ the way back on his neck, _and slowly snap his eyes shut._ **And hold them like that.**

The kid wasn’t looking. He was **refusing** to look. That was completely the opposite of anything and everything that Stan had ever seen or heard out of the kid to-date; the kid _always_ looked at _everything_ , no matter what. He didn’t freaking _avoid--_

But the kid was. That was exactly what the kid was doing; Stan wasn’t seeing things. The kid looked very pained. --And _scared_ , Stan realized, _more_ scared than Stan remembered seeing him, even when everything had been burning down around them both, inside his own brain.

And the kid just stopped still and didn’t seem to (barely) manage to do anything more than breathing, just then.

"...Brother?" Miz tried again, slowly tilting her head to look up at him.

"...Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…" Stan finally heard the kid let out, almost softly.

"What, nothing to say, Bill?" Ford slowly gritted out, fists still clenched at his sides. (Stan shot him a look, because _really?!_ )

Bill slowly pulled in a breath at this. He still had his head tilted back. He still had his eyes closed.

And then... he didn’t. His head slowly came down; he slowly, ever so slowly opened his eyes. He looked down at Miz, and his expression was...

~~_\--"Thank you for what? For destroying our dimension? For killing… how many people have died, Bill?"--_ ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

_...how many people have died, Bill?_

~~_"I'd have preferred to die without seeing any of this! I'd have preferred to go without knowing what kind of monster you'd become!"--_ ~~

_I'd have preferred to die without seeing any of this!_

Bill still forced himself to meet her gaze.

~~_That wasn’t him._ ~~

_That wasn’t him._

~~_He **wasn’t** him._ ~~

**He** _wasn’t_ **him.**

\-- _He_ **wasn’t** that _MORON_ who had screwed up and killed his own brother!

No. _HE_ was the one who Looked _before_ he leapt, and _that Liam had **NOT** been **HIS** brother!!_

HIS brother would listen to him! His _sibling_ would listen to him!! Because--

Miz blinked, worried now. "Brother?"

"--Cause does NOT always come before effect," Bill told his little sister. "I _WILL_ fix everything, and then it will NEVER have _needed_ to ever have been fixed in the first place." Bill took in another slow breath. "I haven’t fixed those dimensions yet. By the time I’m done, none of them will have ever crashed again in the first place. I will BREAK _**causality**_ , too," Bill told her. He straightened up a bit, looking down at her a little more fully. "The math will take a LONG time to explain. I _promise_ I will make it all work," he told her.

He told her everything that he could, in such a terribly short moving span of time. He told her what he could, in this stupid thoroughly-too- _limited_ dumb human language that they were speaking, and he explained it to her like he would have tried to explain it to his brother, if he’d ever planned on trying to bring him back before everything had all and forever been fixed in a way that it had never needed fixing in the first place before, first.

His brother, who he trusted. His brother, who was so very much smarter than him.

His brother, who would get it. His brother, who would _understand_.

"You’re going to ‘fix’ it," Ford practically breathed out, in absolute incredulity and shock. "You…" Was this some kind of _joke?_ Did Bill truly believe that--?! "-- _You can’t fix what you did!_ " Ford yelled out at him.

"I _can_ fix it, and I _WILL!_ " Bill turned in place and yelled out at his damn Zodiac. Because he _NEVER_ \--

" _Like hell!_ " Ford yelled back in pure disbelief.

"Ford--" Stan began, unconsciously dropping his hand away from the kid’s head, as he stared at his brother.

But Ford shook his head and kept going. "Even if you _could_ somehow ‘fix’ all of that, _somehow_ ," Ford snarled out at Bill, as if Bill could just _wave a magic wand_ and make everything somehow _all **better?!?!**_ "--’Fixing it’ -- even if anyone was ever _stupid_ enough to believe that somehow _your_ idea of fixing **anything** would somehow be a _good idea_ \-- **won't** make what you did _any less wrong!_ " Ford spat out at the demon. "It **won't** make you any less of a heartless, horrible, _dimension-destroying **MONSTER!**_ "

"You _aren’t_ LISTENING TO ME!!" Bill yelled back at him, irate. "You NEVER LISTEN!!!" (And Stan winced hard at the mix of emotion in the kid’s voice now, because _that_ was _anything_ but--) "It WON’T HAVE HAPPENED in the FIRST PL--!!"

"Kid--" Stan tried to cut in. (But it was too late. Far, far too late. It was until later that Stan would realize when everything had gone _completely_ off the rails -- and that had been when he’d asked the kid to help him try and get Miz and Ford to see eye to eye. ...Well, the kid had sure done _almost_ that. ...in the very worst way imaginable...)

"You can’t just _roll back everything_ and make it all _never happen!_ " Ford yelled back at him again, really starting to lose it this time. "People didn’t just _lose their lives_ , they lost their _families!_ " Ford yelled back at him. "They ended up _refugees_ in _other dimensions!_ " Ford gritted out, calling him out on the truth of the matter. "You wouldn’t just have to _rewind_ time in all of those dimensions, once you magically made them all _whole_ again -- you’d have to rewind everything, everywhere, across _every dimension_ that’s _ever existed!!_ " Ford told him.

And the last thing Ford had been expecting Bill Cipher to say to _that_ was an exasperated, " _ **YES!!!**_ "

Ford stared at the insane dream demon in absolute shock.

And he wasn’t certain whether he felt more _terrified_ or _angry_ or just out-and-out _scared_ , as he told Bill, " _I_ will remember it. --Are you going to _roll me back_ into _nonexistence_ , too!?" really, demanded it out of him, shaking in place as he said it.

" _ **NO!!**_ " was Bill response back to him, even more angry than before.

" _Then **YOU CAN’T DO IT!!**_ " Ford yelled back at him, while feeling like everything was finally falling apart around him. Worse than Weirdmageddon, worse than _anything_ else he’d ever felt and had to live through before. Because he’d known, he’d _known_ that Bill was insane, but this, _this_ was--!! "It’s _**impossible**_ for _anyone_ to--!!"

"YOU--" Bill began, but he shook his head roughly, and then turned away from Ford "-- _AREN’T IMPORTANT_ HERE," Bill said, as he looked back down at his own sister (and leaving Ford going absolutely white with shock for a moment). " _YOU_ understand me, _right?!_ " he asked her, cupping the bottom of her jaw oh-so-gently with his hands. Because it wasn’t _that Stanford_ that mattered, here, to him -- that Stanford _wasn’t_ the one he was trying to _convince_ , to explain to, to--

"No, she _doesn’t!_ " Ford yelled out at him. "Because _she_ actually knows that _killing other people_ is _WRONG!!!_ " Ford was breathing heavily now, as he turned to Miz. "If you have _any_ ounce of decency in you _at all--_ " he began.

" _ **SHUT! UP!!!**_ " Bill yelled back at him, dropping his hands away from Miz’s face. (And Stan’s eyes went a little wide as he saw a _glow_ start up, under Bill’s skin. A blue glow.)

(And it was about this point that Stan realized that the kid’s hair was completely black now-- all of it was black, no blue in sight-- no, _fuck_ , it wasn't just black and _staying_ black, the part that had been blue before was starting to turn _red_ on the kid, somehow.)

Stan was tense, so much so that his neck ached. "Ford--! For fuck’s sake, _shut up_ and just _let_ the kid talk to his _sister!_ "

"She's NOT his sister! He doesn't even HAVE--"

But then Ford shut up on his own. Stan didn’t know why he did, but he did it.

(Ford stopped talking because he finally saw how Bill’s coloring had changed. His hair was red; his _eyes_ were red in their irises, and glowing blue in the sclera. And he saw how Bill himself was starting to glow _under the barrier_ under his _skin_ with a vast amount of suppressed energy _despite this_. Which shouldn’t have been possible, not if--)

(--unless--)

Ford just stopped talking and stared, as he realized that Bill was--

"...brother?" Came Miz's voice. Small and… afraid? Stan snapped his eyes back over to her, looking down at her over the kid’s shoulder, at how she was worriedly frowning at all the kid’s glowing and the red and--

(Miz knew the signs of an explosion when she saw one. Brother's might be different from hers, but the basics were the same.)

And the three of them watched as Bill seemed to stop for a moment, and take stock of himself…

...and then Bill closed his eyes and seemed to hold himself in place and just _concentrate_. He pulled in a deep breath, in through his mouth...

...and the glow under his skin slowly faded on the outbreath. On the next deep breath in, his hair shifted back down through black to blue again, before he even finished blowing his breath out, like watching a sunset reverse itself in high-speed motion in reverse.

Stan realized he’d been holding his own breath only when he stopped holding it. When he realized that he’d started holding it when he’d started hearing that angry humming- _buzzing_ noise that had been emanating not from the kid's mouth or throat, but coming out as some kind of vibration through his _skin_. One that the kid was no longer doing.

Stan waited for the kid to take in and out a third breath, just for kicks and for safety, and then he said, "You got things under control there, kiddo?"

"I’m fine," was Bill’s terse response, as he slowly opened his eyes back up again. "I’m _not_ going to ever hurt my sister, vessel or not. Not even her _vessel_ ," he repeated flatly, before looking back down at her.

And then Bill said, a little more haltingly. "I… should not _have_ to collapse any more dimensions again anymore. Now that I am out. --It will take _time_ to explain everything else to you in enough detail for you to understand why I did what I had to do, more fully. But I _promise_ that I can explain it all to you, to make it make sense. I didn’t do it for no reason. And I wouldn’t have done it if not-doing it hadn’t meant I was never getting out. _I had to get out._ \--I needed to get out _first_ , before I could fix everything. Now I can fix it, but it’s going to take time until it’s never-happened again like it all will be," he told her. And then Bill took the plunge. "Can you trust me, to wait to ‘reserve judgement’ on me and all of what I did, until I have explained? Everything?"

(Stan stared a bit, and glanced over and back at his brother. The kid didn’t talk about trust often, and when he did… it was a clusterfuck, let’s be honest here. But the kid was sounding almost like a grown-up adult, and almost actually some kind of sane, as he said it, the way he’d just said it here.)

(Ford took one small step away from him, backwards. One odd, almost spasmodic step away from what he was seeing and hearing here, right in front of him… ~~because why wasn’t she… why wasn’t she really, already ready to… why wasn’t she already…~~ )

And Miz thought about that. Thought about how many people had been sacrificed for this. For Bill's plans. For his goals. Everyone he killed. Everyone he hurt. She thought about all that and...

"I'm not happy." She glared up at him before her expression softened. "But I will trust you." She sounded a little resigned, and a touch annoyed, but she hadn't stepped away from Bill, hadn't rejected him.

(Ford looked like he’d just been punched in the gut ~~as he realized that... Bill had just...~~.)

Bill pulled in a shaky breath, and he let it out slowly.

"I’m… not happy either," Bill told her with brutal honesty, and a shaking voice, dropping his head a little bit towards her. "But I will trust you, too."

(And now, Ford was clutching one hand at his chest, fisted above and at his heart... though he didn’t seem aware he was doing it, as he stared…)

Miz sighed, not looking happy at all.

Despite that, Miz reached up and patted the side of Bill’s head, now that it was lower and she could reach, and had her other arm wrapped around his back. "I’m willing to listen. When you're ready, and able to explain. I won’t hate you. I love you and I’ll _always_ love you. Even if I might be mad at you for a while," she promised.

"Love you, too," Bill said somewhat stiltedly, almost as stiltely and strangely as he’d had trouble hugging her before this tonight, and even though Stan saw him flinch at the ‘being mad at you’ mention, his breathing began evening out slowly; his body slowly relaxed. "Love you," Stan heard Bill repeat, like he was trying it out all over again. "Love you, love you, always. Always my sister, _forever_." He breathed out softly, "...no take-backs, _forever_ …"

Ford turned away from them, expressionless now, and walked right out of the room. Stan watched him go and grimaced.

The kid was breathing easy again -- relieved, almost -- though definitely tired as hell, and Stan took a minute to say, "Yeah, we’re gonna stop here. ...Pick this one up again a _hell_ of a lot later," Stan said, taking a step back and away to the side, completely disengaging from the kid. "Pretty sure you’re right about the definitions thing there, Miz," Stan added as he turned away from the two demon-kids, "You two had better pick that one back up upstairs yourselves in the attic with each other first, and then talk to me _all_ about it, before you even think about talkin’ to Ford again, you hear me?" he said, as hurried off to leave the room after Ford.

"Yes. Yes. Yes," Bill murmured out, in answer to each of Stanley’s question-command-queries, as he breathing slowed down and evened out further.

Miz nodded at Stan. "Okay." She almost told him, ‘You should go talk to Ford. He doesn’t look alright.’ But Stan was already out of sight.

\---

Stan didn’t have a hell of a lot of brainpower to spare for anyone other than his brother right now, but he did hope that the dragon-lady would get the kid upstairs without too much trouble. The kids were already in bed and damn well had better have stayed there, so they shouldn’t be coming downstairs and walkin’ in on any of _that_ anytime soon, but...

...Hell, Stan could only handle one, maybe two things at a time, damnit. There was only one of him here, y’know. (And sure, Dipper had told him about how his messed up photocopy machine worked, but Stan wasn’t going to go off fixing that stupid thing up, to try that one ~~all over again~~.)

It’d be fine. (It’d have to be.) Kids knew better than to come down at night after some yelling.. They weren’t going to set the kid off that badly again, anyway, even if they did. (And it wasn’t like he couldn’t come running if--)

No, damnit. Focus. One thing at a time. First things first, _no distractions_.

Stan came to a stop in front of Ford’s bedroom door, and knocked on it only briefly before turning the doorknob and shoving his way in.

He found Ford immediately, his back turned towards the door, curled up on his bed, with his knees pulled up and in to his chest.

"...Ford," Stan said slowly. He closed the door behind him, and as he approached, he realized...

Ford had that hand still clutched to his chest. He was curled in around himself like… like _that_ hurt. Like something _there_ hurt.

Ford had his eyes closed, and he was breathing almost careful-like. Like it almost hurt to breathe. ...or like he was worried something would start to hurt, if he breathed the wrong way.

Stan carefully sat down on the side of the bed, and placed his hand on Ford’s shoulder.

Ford didn’t respond.

"...Ford," Stan said slowly. "I don’t know what’s going on with you, but the kid’s a damn sun’s worth of energy, _minimum_. I can’t have him going supernova on us, right in the middle of the damn house," Stan told his brother, just as slowly. "...Okay?"

"He’s..."

"Huh?" Stan said. His brother had breathed out something, but it had been too damn low for his hearing aid to pick up.

He saw his brother pull in another breath, and...

"He’s more than a star’s worth of energy. And Bill is physically here," Ford said quietly, eyes still closed, still curled in on himself on his bed, with that fist -- his right hand -- pressed up against his chest.

"Yeah," Stan said. "He is." Stan pulled in a breath. "And I’m pretty sure he could burn through that damn anchor like nothin' doing that, but it’d kill all the rest of us…"

"...in the process," Ford finished for him, shifting slightly in place.

"Yeah," said Stan, feeling a little uncomfortable.

There was a long silence of about a minute or so. And then Ford said:

"...How long have you known."

Stan blinked. "About the ‘going supernova’ thing? --Kid threatened it on the morning of the second day, right before I told him I wasn’t jailing him or nothin’. Don’t think he was kidding around about that." Stan scratched the side of his cheek. "All I really got outta that was that he didn’t want to do it if he didn’t have to, for some reason, ‘cause if he did, he already would have done it instead of just tellin’ _me_ about it. ...Hell, kid didn’t even know about the anchor at the time," Stan muttered out at the last, with a bit of a wince.

Ford curled in on himself a bit more, and he let out a soft, almost breathy laugh.

" _This_ is why you’re not worried about him," Ford said, and Stan wasn’t sure if that was just pure hysteria, or the hysterical laughter under that talking, or something else completely different. " _This_. Because he didn’t ‘blow us all up’ on day one."

"Day two," Stan said. "Wasn’t _that_ late in the afternoon when you first grabbed him, that time. That day counts as a day, too."

Ford let out another wheezing sort of laugh, and raised his other hand up to his face, to cover it.

He shook a little in place, and Stan rubbed his hand over Ford’s shoulder for awhile, waiting while his brother rode whatever the hell this was out on his own.

...except Stan really _hated_ doin’ it like this, and he was fed up enough with everything that he just shoved himself up and over--

"--W- _what are you doing?_ " Ford blurted out, flustered, as Stan climbed into -- okay, yeah, on top of the covers of -- the bed with him, and wrapped an arm over his brother’s shoulder and chest.

"It’s a hug. Prescribed by me," Stan told him as belligerently as he could, hugging him a little closer. "Don’t like it? Deal with it."

(He’d _hated_ having to tell his brother to stop and shut up out there; _‘I’m sorry’_ didn’t fucking cut it. He hadn’t handled that one for him at all, and he’d seen Ford getting hurt just listening to the two of them; he’d let Ford go through the wringer, not having any idea how to stop it, and… Words just didn’t fucking cut it. Stan did actions, and he was damn well hugging his brother over this. And if he got punched for it, then, well, so be it.)

He felt and heard his brother let out another shaky, more hysterical sounding laugh at ‘his antics’ _this_ time -- yeah, well, what else was new.

...except his brother didn’t turn around and punch him, or try to shove him up off of the bed.

Instead, his brother grabbed him by the arm he had over his shoulder--

\--and pulled him in _even harder_. Closer in. It, uh… kind of surprised him. A lot.

"Uh, yeah," Stan said, feeling a little off-center all over again -- though this one felt a lot different than the off-center he’d been feeling before. "Right." He tried shoving his other arm under Ford’s side, and his brother actually shifted around a little bit and _let him do it_. "Great. ...Good talk there. Glad you’re with me on this one," Stan said, just to have something to say.

He felt his brother give out a huff, so he decided to go for broke and wrapped himself around his brother in a real damn hug for once, and… and his brother slowly relaxed into it. (Holy shit.)

...Stan let out a breath and knocked his forehead lightly into the back of his brother head, while he was at it.

"You’re a crazy, dangerous lunatic, you know that?" Stan muttered out. (He couldn’t friggin help it. His brother had damn near made the dumb demon go supernova on them just by _talking_ at him too much.)

"So I’ve been told," Ford murmured out in reply, and Stan let out a huff of breath at that, because he was pretty sure that _he_ was the only one who’d ever called him that, lately. Mostly over all of that dangerous ‘weirdness’ stuff of his. But...

Stan felt his brother relax in his arms, and start to breathe a little easier, and he decided...

...to just let things lie. Talking right now wasn’t gonna help. Ford was exhausted. _Emotionally_ , or whatever, sure, but exhausted was _exhausted_.

(And Stan wasn’t really feeling up for getting in yet another fight with his brother again, either. Or any misunderstandings. Or any more yelling. Or arguing. Or...)

So Stan just lay there, and held onto his brother, and...

...he tried to feel like everything was just fine and… ‘at peace’, he guessed. Like his brother had used to say to him on the boat a few times.

’At peace.’ Somethin’ like that would be really great right about now, Stan thought to himself, as he lie there and hugged him and breathed, just like his brother was doing, and trying to do.

And Ford lay there himself, with his brother in his arms, and he tried not to think too hard about forgiveness and anger. ~~_Because if a demon-like man-eater could love Bill Cipher, and Bill Cipher might actually be capable of loving someone else in return…_~~

~~(Was it possible that he could still end up having this, too? Even after everything that he had already done… that no-one could _ever_ begin to be forgiven for…~~

~~(...was it really at all possible to just be forgiven? Just like that? To still be able to be loved by someone, even if they were also awful? Even, and despite everything he had done… and had done _to_ him--)~~

\---

Miz got Bill back up to the attic without incident. She was relieved for that, at least. Bill was still clinging to her a bit (arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind as they walked) nervously all the while, and Miz let him. She’d been pretty much the same with Xanthar sometimes, and for a few weeks after Ammy got shot...

"Are you okay?" Miz asked when they both finally settled down on some pillows.

Bill breathed for a bit, and then he finally let out a small laugh and said, "...are you still mad at me?"

Miz was quiet for awhile, waiting. And Bill sighed out a bit, _knowing_ it wasn’t going to be that easy. He shifted a bit in place uncomfortably, and breathed a bit more, and then finally said next, "It’s going to take a long time to explain everything to you."

"I know," Miz said. And she couldn't see how it would ever be fully explained. Even if he’d been desperate to get out, why had the only solution he saw been the death of billions? There could have-- must have been another way...

"One trillion years is a long time," Bill told her next.

"I know," Miz told him, with a nod. Somehow, she doubted this was going to be easy for him, no matter how it all turned out. If he really didn’t have a good answer for everything, and she pointed that out to him, what would he do? And if he didn’t listen to her when she knew he was wrong… she didn’t like to think that she might not be able to forgive him, but that was looking like a real possibility, and...

"...I want to see your show, right here and now," Bill told her next, startling her a bit. "The show you saw. I want to see it."

Miz regarded him for a bit, worrying a little. "Will you be… alright with watching it?" she asked, not wanting to upset him (more than he’d already been).

Bill nodded, then shook his head. "I--" He paused. Would the show show anything at all about what had happened during any of all of those collapses? Miz had implied that the show that she’d seen hadn’t actually shown all that much about that cartoon demon at all, but... "I can say ‘stop’ if I need to stop for… awhile. I..." He swallowed. He had no idea how far back it went, in whatever it went into for the ‘Bill Cipher, triangle demon’ character she’d seen in that show, or how much any of it might talk about Liam, but…

"This is _important_ ," Bill told her. "I can’t… fix everything-else _yet_ , but if I know _this_ , then I can help _you_ with…" he trailed off. But he didn’t _give up_. His little sister might be angry with him, but he couldn’t let that stop him from doing what he could; he had to focus on what she still needed, right now. And earlier, she’d said that she’d felt ‘trapped’ by all those ‘fixed points’. She didn’t want to do those things, at least some of them, whatever they were, so he had to know what they were to try and help her out. Because that was what a good big brother did; they helped their littler sibling(s) out.

Miz leaned against his side, interlocking their hands together. "Okay." she said. "Though, the show doesn’t tell us much about Bill’s past at all, I got more of that kind of thing from the writer’s social media or panels where he answered questions…" and Liam was from a fanfic, of all things!

Bill blinked at this. " _He_ put on the show?" Bill asked her of "That... other Bill?..." he asked her, still blinking, and now a bit (thoroughly) lost.

Miz looked at Bill, and then giggled slightly -- she couldn’t help it. "He, the writer, Alex. He’s the human who wrote the story down and made it into a cartoon. He also voiced multiple characters in the show, including Bill, Stan and Glasses." she told him (to which Bill replied with a "Hm..."). "But he mentioned the book Flatland in a roundabout way in one of his Q&A sessions, and had stated that Bill didn’t have the best relationship with his family…"

"--Brothers and sisters _aren’t_ family," Bill told her quickly, then frowned. "Unless we’re going by Stanley’s definition there."

"Not sure what definition he meant during that Q&A." Miz shrugged. "But the show itself only followed the Pines during last summer. Anything else was information I got from extra content made surrounding the show. Not a lot has happened yet since my timeline is still pretty far back, but the UFO crashed and created the valley, so that’s one thing to check off the list." Miz shrugged.

Bill looked at her, and then he said to her, almost suspiciously, "...You said that ‘the 2’nd dimension burning down’ was a fixed point." He frowned. "That happened before last summer…" so… "That wasn’t part of the show. Was it?"

"There was a point in the show where Bill talked about the 2nd dimension, and an image of it on-screen burned. It could have been literal or a metaphor, but either way, my dimension burned."

Bill thought about this with a slight frown on his face.

"Start with that, then show me everything that you remember seeing in the order that you saw it in," Bill told her. Because if he was going to help her get around the Karmic system in her dimensional set… "This is a worst-case scenario. The worst kind of worst-case. I want to know what will _maybe_ happen -- or _TRY_ to happen, that you think will happen -- if we can’t disconnect you from things _properly_ , over there." He needed to know what he was going to be helping her to fight.

"...I can play the whole series, maybe fast-forward some parts…" Miz turned to face the wall and held out her free hand, the other was still holding Bill’s, and projecting a screen. Well, movie marathon, here we go.

"--No," Bill told her. "Don’t fast-forward anything. I want to see it the way that you saw it," Bill told her carefully. He didn’t want to miss any small detail out that she herself had seen. He was in a human-ish body right now, and... "I can… try to be even lower in this stupid human-ish body for this?" he offered. He didn’t really like the idea of doing that, not one bit, let alone _actually_ doing it all that much, but if he actually tried taking full advantage of that...

"Well, we might have to stop and take a food break. But I can show you exactly what I saw." Miz told him, moving her fingers and getting the screen up and running, paused for now as she waited for the go ahead.

"That’s fine," Bill said to her, "We have food up here." And with that, he let himself sink into the pillow-nest a bit more.

"Okay." Miz nodded.

And a nostalgic melody began to play as the theme song appeared on the screen.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  A/N: The chapter was getting too long and it would have taken more time to write, so Jan and Bill's (plus Mabel, Dipper and Robbie) musical adventure will be posted some other time as a side chapter. We had too many things to write.
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Music stuff's not written yet, but I think it's going to be fun :) We were both really tired by this point, though (for what I feel from the above content are probably some obvious reasons).
> 
> And yeah, -A Bill is super-lucky here. (...If things had gone differently… well, Stan had a plan to handle that, too. *eg*) --And this stuff is actually one of the main reasons why I was so thrilled to be able to write this crossover arc with Mizuuma. I am in total agreement with her on [how much of an impact](https://quantumseahorse.tumblr.com/post/190137139550/thats-me-with-my-crossover-arcs-theyve) this is going to have on these characters -- the two Bills in particular.
> 
> -A Bill and MizBill might be horrible people, but they're mostly good for each other. (Even if it kinda sucks that they're really not all that good for pretty much anyone else, at least in -A Bill's case. --But hey, Stan's _working_ on that. He's only had the kid for, like, two months so far. Give him a break here, already! ;)


	40. Chapter 99.1: Just because you aren’t seeing me doesn’t mean I can’t see you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miz's original chapter summary:  
> It was time to leave, but neither of us wanted to say good bye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a "repost" of Chapter 128 of [Illusion IS Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291395/chapters/52850602). It was first posted on Jan 6, 2020.

\---

They watched the whole show, stopping only for Miz to remind Bill to get himself some snacks from the ‘emergency rations’ on the shelves that he’d stocked up nearby. They went long into the night, with Miz having to make Bill take yet another break to get some sleep, but they woke up again fairly early the next morning and continued watching all through the afternoon and well into the evening again, only stopping to dip into more of those ‘shelved’ rations a few times, before running out of those and having to dip into a few more things that came directly out of Bill’s own (and the ‘original’) top hat that he still had.

And once they were done… well...

"Are you alright, brother?" Miz asked, nuzzling into his side. Bill chittered quietly under his breath as he kept on staring at the now-blank screen, eyes still intently focused on the very spot where the short after-credits sequence had been showing a live-action recording of the statue of ‘Bill Cipher’.

Miz wanted to ask Bill if he liked it, if he hated it, how accurate it was, whether it was even relevant to his own experiences, all sorts of things. But she could tell Bill was thinking hard just then, so she kept quiet for a few moments and let him collect himself.

She was pretty sure the show wasn’t entirely accurate to real events, or that they were probably otherwise too general to have captured all the important nuances of the situation. (Well, the fact that they didn’t get internal monologues for all the characters might be part of that. There was definitely a level of understanding that was missing.) Still, from what she’d scanned on this world (though she was still a little confused because of the alternate dimensions within this set) the basics of what happened had _looked_ … pretty much the same, at least on a surface level. ...Well, Shermie being female was an interesting deviation here, though that Stanford’s Shermie was male. But she supposed there would be other dimensions where Shermie could be male or female or whatever else as well. It made her wonder which one her own Shermie would be. Which got her thinking about what differences her own Zodiac would have.

...and how her own story would unfold from this point out. If she… decided to fuck Canon and go off to do whatever she wanted… how different would everything be? Miz wouldn’t lie and say that didn’t scare her a little. The uncertainty of it. But… she’d figure that out later. No use stressing over this now. The younger demon rolled over and glanced at Bill. "Brother?"

Bill turned to look at her.

"We need to disconnect you from that Karmic cycle, _now_ ," Bill told her quite seriously. "If that," Bill gestured at the screen, "Is all ‘fixed points’ for what is going to happen in your own dimensional set... then the only way to save you would be to get someone else to do it, instead." He didn’t think he had the patience anymore to do it himself, and he didn’t like _her_ chances, either, if she just tried to get away with… "Having a ‘split copy’ of yourself doing those things for you just won’t work. Sympathetic frequencies will transfer the trouble." Sympathetic magic was a thing, some places, as well. "And even if you manage to separate it that far away from yourself while it’s alive, you won’t _want_ to risk that other part of you ‘coming back’ to _reintegrate_ back into you when it’s dead, after all is said and done and it’s been punched out into pieces and dies for you," Bill noted. "Especially not if you have to try and segregate it completely, in order for you to have it do what ‘must’ be done for yourself. Making a different ‘you’ that it will be forced into doing and being for you, if you are correct about your ‘everything _on TV_ is fixed points’ hypothesis being true." It wasn’t like he hadn’t been paying attention to her own responses to several of the events that had taken place during said TV show.

Miz frowned. She didn't think she would end up punched to death inside Stan's mind. "Well I could try and go off script, as it were. I don't have to follow it, if I can get away with not doing so." She paused. "But I WOULD like to get out of the karma system regardless. It sounds like a pain."

Bill nodded. "That… is going to be a tricky one," he told her. "I don’t know how your own system is set up in your own ‘set," Bill told her. "But I can tell you how things are set up to ‘work’ here, and how I did it." He grimaced. "...which worked when I did it before," he admitted to her, "But that I may still need to do all over again. -- _May_ still need to do," he emphasized, trying not to worry her at all, the least little bit. "Still haven’t _COMPLETELY_ narrowed down exactly how I finally managed to make my own come-back," he grumbled out, almost to himself, as he crossed his arms again over his chest. "The devil’s in the details," he muttered.

"Hm…" Miz felt around her Self for anything that might be going outside herself. "I can find my Bond with Ax, and the other feeling that is probably my Pillar..."

"Yes, well." Bill pulled a piece of paper out of his hat, and a odd-looking fountain pen. "That isn’t Karma," he told her, as he quickly sketched out and labeled a three-by-three grid on the paper.

"I'm not sure what to go about looking for?" Miz admitted.

"It’s not a bond," Bill told her, "It’s an interaction. The Karma system and karmic cycle is something fully-external to you, that interacts on you and with you, and on everything-else around you that you have and will and are and eventually-will-be interacting with -- and that _also_ includes every _one_. --It’s _annoying_ ," he grumbled out at her, in pure dislike of the concept, at the very least.

"So it's not inside me." Miz frowned. That made this harder.

"Yes," he told her. "So if your ‘bond’ to... your ‘dad’," he grimaced, "Is what it registering you as ‘evil’, because you are somehow registered in your local Karma system as its opposite and it it registered as "good" somehow…" Bill frowned, "Then you will need to find a way to find and break that external Rule that’s been coded into that system. That is bad enough," he noted. "But what is _worse_ ," he told her, "Is that it all _shifts over time_ ," he warned her. "The majority-view changes how the interactions go. --On Sunday, eating meat is evil? Next Tuesday, it’s _just fine_. --Fish are the new no-go from there on in! ...Up until something else changes it, _all over again_." His mouth curled up in a snarl. "If the majority has ‘decided’ that you are that lizard’s opposite… you will have to break that Rule over, and over, and over again. Until you can find out what broken thing is _making_ that keep happening and BREAK it all _completely_ -even-further, so that it **stops doing that**. You may not gain any _traction_ , otherwise." Even Bill himself wasn’t coded that way to the Karma system here. That his sister had said that she was over there truly worried him.

"My dimension doesn't have an automated system like that." Miz pointed out. "No shifting morality like that. Every culture and even the individual people have their own sense of right and wrong. And often times the exact same situation is considered good by one culture and evil by another."

"And do those ‘rights’ and ‘wrongs’ change over time, for those ‘culture’-al populations?" he asked her, without looking at her. "Do those people change in population? Do those civilizations rise, and then fall?"

"Yeah. Takes a long time though."

"Then the consensus _DOES_ shift over time, and that is the same as it all is here," Bill told her. "If it shifts, then it shifts. And you need to look out for it, one way or the other. Karma is a bitch, and the system is VERY hard to find, even if you know what you’re looking for. Either you work with and within it, staying stuck and sticking by it, or you find another way." He looked up at her. " _This_ is the other way," he told her.

He slapped the piece of paper down in front of them. It… looked like a standard D&D alignment chart to her, complete with all the same naming schemes: Good, Neutral, Evil; Lawful, Neutral, Chaotic.

It also had Bill’s symbols on it, sort of. --Really, it had a sort of color-coded key on the side of it corresponding to each of Bill’s Zodiac, and a bunch of almost random-looking squiggles across it in places.

"Well, I'm a Chaotic Neutral." Miz pointed out.

"And I am in the center of it all," Bill told her. "True Neutral."

Miz blinked at him in disbelief -- the dream demon who thought ‘Fun’ was just another name for ‘Chaos’ thought that he was neutral? ...or was that just the canon Bill? -- but Miz didn’t comment. Not on _that_ , anyway. "...Dad is a True Neutral. 'Least, he's supposed to be." She wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"The stupid lizards aren’t," Bill told her. " **Neutral** -Neutral, _maybe_. At best." _If we’re lucky,_ he didn’t quite voice.

Miz frowned down at the chart that Bill was showing her. "Like I said, _supposed_ to be."

"These are the current trajectories of my Zodiac," Bill told her, pointing down at the squiggles. "You may notice something here."

Miz frowned at it for a moment. ...Well, the one thing that stood out the most was that, "The whole thing looks a little like Stan’s symbol, almost?" The color attributed to Stan even made a sort of outlined trajectory that looked like his own symbol on the paper, minus the little circle-pellet piece.

Bill nodded, and drew the outline, emphasizing further the ‘normal’ fish-outline that was there around almost the entire periphery of the squiggles, with few extrusions. "That's where I’m _trying_ to get it to go," Bill told her, "Before I have them all follow me up."

"...okay. Follow you up? You're taking them with you up to the AXOLOTL'S space?"

Bill nodded again, and smiled. " _Eventually_ ," he told her. "But for now… we’re just talking Karmic alignment."

Miz frowned.

"This is what they all look like right now, in terms of where their actions _actually_ fall and flow," he told her. "Regardless of what _some_ of them think," he muttered out, looking down at that Stanford’s symbol, which made up the majority of the ‘tail’ of the fish, cycling heavily between the very outmost corners of ‘Chaotic Good’ and ‘Chaotic Evil’, with almost no time spent in ‘Chaotic Neutral’ in-between. Then Bill raised his hand above the page. "This is where I’m trying to let Stanley lead them to go." He moved his hand, and all the squiggles shifted. --Notably, the whole ‘fish’ periphery (and every squiggle inside it) seemed to compress itself a little bit, to the point that every path that had a trajectory leading into in the ‘lawful’ side of the page shifted almost completely over to the neutral column, but in the process...

"So… no lawful, and almost no evil." Except for... "That's gonna be hard for Gideon." And that was sure a high density of squiggles around the chaotic neutral region where the ‘tail’ of the fish was, now.

Bill shrugged. "Too many of them are already starting out ‘good’," he told her. "Easier to go the other way, get rid of the ‘Lawful’ orientation first, instead of trying to shift more of them ‘Good’ or ‘Evil’ instead. --Not that it matters," Bill said. "Not once I use the current mis-balance to _over_ -balance everything like _this_ ," he told her, and suddenly the paper rose up to eye-level and the entire symbol of squiggly-marks twisted sideways and fell down out of the page.

...no, that wasn’t quite right. It was like the ‘Neutral-Neutral’ center block was pinning the center of it in place, all those squiggles. The whole thing rotated and spun around the ‘neutral’ column that was sitting between ‘Lawful’ and ‘Chaotic’, until all the (few) parts of the squiggle in the ‘Neutral’ column that had still been the closest to the ‘Lawful’ column had rotated themselves _upwards_ and out of the page, while all the ‘Chaotic’ parts of the ‘tail’ rotated themselves down below it.

It was like a really strange (and completely out-of-balance) mobile. That was Miz’s impression at least. "And… what does this all mean?" she finally asked him.

"It means," Bill told her, as he raised his hand and pointed above the piece of paper, "That I," pointed to a little equilateral triangle hanging above it, spinning like a pinwheel in place and outlining a circle above it, completing the whole ‘fish’ symbol, "And my Zodiac," he told her, moving his hand upwards, and the triangle moved upwards, "Cast a _very_ large shadow."

And as Bill moved his hand upwards, and that triangle move upwards as well, the ‘fish’ below slowly ‘swam’ itself upwards, as well -- right up out of the page, seemingly almost chasing the pinwheeling triangle as it went. (...Trying to eat it? Capture it again? Or just follow it up?)

And as it moved higher and higher, the neutral lit-everywhere lighting of the room showed Miz two very odd things: a single small area on the page below -- the ‘True Neutral’ square -- being almost exclusively lit with an ever-shrinking small dot of very-strong shadow… and a more overall broad and lighter (but still fairly obviously there) shadow, slowly becoming increasingly larger, and larger, until it all filled the entire page below it.

"Karma does not define me," Bill said, letting go of the entire illusion, and letting the piece of paper flutter down to settle back where it first had started out, back down on the floor once again. "I need them all out of ‘Lawful’, so that we can all break the Rules we need to break here more fully. --’Chaotic’ is well and good, but the new system we all will put in place needs to be _better_ , in order to hold, manage, grow, and contain it. Tempests in teacups," he told her, "Not ones that grow to tear down the whole of a dimension, and then some." He shrugged. "Staying in ‘Neutral’, and cycling between ‘Good’-’Neutral’-’Evil’ back and forth all the time, it all cancels out," he told her. "No traction, not enough inertia to hold it to slow it down to stick there in place; it’s got nothing to stick to, so nothing will stick. --It’s the piling on that gets you," he told her. "If you stay in just one state forever, and never pass over to the other side, it just keeps piling on, and accumulating, and winding up, because you just aren’t winding it down, all of that inertia keeping it all there in place just builds and builds and builds, and _that’s_ when all the worst things will happen," he told her, "At all the worst times. It’s almost like everything just starts _‘spontaneously’_ working against you."

Well, that was good? Miz didn't know what Bill was after specifically.

"But that’s my entire Zodiac, to which I am… ‘chained’," he told her, sitting back and easing back a bit. "I myself stay true neutral. --I’ll make Deals with anything and anyone," he told her, them grimaced a bit. "Well…" he admitted, "No more Deals anymore, but I’m happy to do anything-else with anyone else!" he told her. "I like to take advantage for myself when I can," he told her, "But I’ll do that with _anybody_. Doesn’t matter to me, as long as it’s fun." Bill shrugged again. "That’s the ‘height’ by the way, along the third axis," he told her, "The ‘up’ that I’m going to have all of us moving along, together. ‘Fun’ and interesting and weird and colorful and forever-and-ever-getting- _smarter_ ," he told her, tracing a hand upwards towards the ceiling, "Versus ‘dull’ and drab and oh-so- _predictable_ and chained-down and boring," Bill completed, moving his hand down to point towards the floor. "Karma just doesn’t _go_ **there** ," he told her. "‘Height’ isn’t part of this system! _Karma_ is _flat_ ; it’s all stuck down there," he pointed at the piece of paper in disgust, "Being two-dimensional. It only measures what falls on and intersects _here_ ," Bill said, making a flat gesture along the whole piece of paper, "And nothing else. --So once we’re all unstuck from the whole range of concepts of anything to do with any of all-this at all ever," he made a gesture at the piece of paper again, "Once we’re all on the same ‘page’ and then up and _out_ of it, all of it, entirely... it doesn’t really apply to any of us at all anymore, ever again! And anything else that anybody _else_ is seeing, in terms of karma? Is just little bits of shadow here and there, cast down on the walls and the floor, where the _rest_ of those flat-thought idiots think."

Bill glanced down at the piece of paper again. "But that’s my Zodiac, with all their puppet-string connections to me that just won’t ever hold me down. _I_ cast _myself_ as ‘True Neutral’," Bill told her. "But the trick there is, you need to know where you’re starting out _first_ , to know how and when and where you are going to move. --Start out thinking you’re a ‘Lawful Good’ and go one space right? --If you were actually seen by the system as ‘Lawful Neutral’, you’ve just gone _Chaotic_. And _that’s_ if you’re even facing the right direction; south-by-southwest, and you just gone ‘Lawful Evil’ instead!" Bill warned her. "See what I mean? --You need to know where you are, and which way you’re facing, and going to be facing, things -- what direction you’re going to strike out in -- in order to know where you’re going. _That’s_ the problem I’m sitting at now," he told her. "I don’t know where I’m _sitting at_ now, or which direction I’m even facing." Or how much ‘Karmic debt’ he might be in, if the stupid lizard had _lied_ to him misleadingly, and hadn’t cancelled all of it all out on him yet, after trying to shove him down flat into the flatness of the ‘normal’ system of thing, once again.

Miz frowned down at the page. She wasn’t sure about this… and Bill noticed this.

"Let me give you another example--" the trillion year old demon began, reaching for another blank piece of paper.

Many, somewhat-varying explanations later, with the floor of Bill's room covered in papers and scribbles, Miz finally felt as if she was getting the hang on this, and a handle on the general concept. How it would apply to her, she wasn't sure. But she had adjusted and shifted around a few things in her Self that she was pretty sure might help her out. That would have to do for now until she went home to really experiment with it.

And by that time, it was late and Miz made Bill go to bed again. (not that he did a whole lot of complaining about falling asleep again; he _was_ tired, just not tired enough to not complain until his sister reassured him that she was getting the concept, and that they didn’t need to stay up any later, talking about any of it further.) She still couldn't believe they had spent the entire day up here without going down to see anyone else even once. ...Well, she thought that Stanford would be thrilled about not seeing her, though.

Still, she snuggled up with her brother and the two drifted off to sleep again.

\---

There was something that Bill didn't want to think about. Something he really wanted to avoid.

But he _HAD_ to think about it -- because in order to avoid it ever needing to happen, he had to think about it. Because it was part of a completely different problem that he had to handle _now_ \-- or at least, very soon. It was something he had been able to avoid doing for a while, as he kept working to help his sister deal with her other problems. But with her Karma situation more or less handled as best as they could for now, along with several of the other problems on her list (and a few that hadn’t been on it at all, before or since), Bill found his thoughts going back to this thing he had to do, and also this thing he didn't want to think about.

Bill had to bring Stanley's twin back to life before he realized that that Stanford -- _Sixer_ \-- wasn’t actually his twin, ‘just’ his _brother_. Because _that_ was a thing that had happened. Bill hadn’t thought that this was ever going to be a problem; he’d planned on bringing ‘Ford back _eventually_ , but he hadn’t thought that Stanley had actually felt or thought that way about his twin. That he was ‘family’, the way that Stanley defined it. -- _That_ meant that ‘Ford staying dead was ‘crossing his line’, and if Stanley knew about it... Bill not having realized it at the time just wouldn’t cut it -- Bill knew Stanley well enough _now_ to know _that_ much, at least. As things stood, the agreement was technically already defunct, broken before it even began. And unless Bill fixed it--

\--So Bill couldn’t wait as long as he liked to do it, whenever he wanted to do it; he would _have_ to bring ‘Ford back the next closest thing to _NOW_ , if he wanted to fix and to keep the agreement. (And he _wanted_ to keep the mutual non-aggression agreement he had with Stanley, for many, various reasons.) In a strict reading of the terms that he’d ended up working out with Stanley, if ‘Ford already being dead _didn’t_ break the terms of the agreement outright from before the very-start, then it might almost be something close to a _requirement_ that it be carried out as soon as Bill could end up doing it ‘safely’ (following the agreement without breaking the agreement in the process), once Bill had learned of the problem from him -- helping Stanley ‘save’ and ‘keep safe’ his ‘family’ from harm.

Either way, it really did have to happen very soon now. With Stanley and that Stanford talking to each other more now, after coming back from that other dimension, and that Stanford starting to realize something was wrong--

That Stanford would never figure it out on his own _consciously_ himself, but he was _acting_ in ways that were enough to make Stanley suspicious. And Stanley wasn’t stupid. He might not be able to even think of ‘his brother’ dying in the portal, but he definitely _was_ capable of thinking about the existence of other Stanleys and other Stanfords. Bill doubted that he could keep Stanley from the conscious realization that the Stanford he was living with _wasn’t_ the twin who he’d grown up with -- not for much longer. Not with the twitchy-touchy way that Sixer had been acting, especially lately. Which meant...

(And of _course_ that Stanford had to mess all this up by continuing to behave in a way that would make Stanley start to be suspicious--)

\--It was fine, overall. It wasn’t like Bill hadn’t planned to bring 'Ford (Stanley’s twin) back from the start -- right when he’d been having to make that split-second frozen decision on which Stanford to save, when they’d both fell into their respective portals in the same frozen moment in the Nightmare Realm, somehow _at the VERY SAME TIME_ in the broken time of that place, and damn the Axolotl _ALL OVER AGAIN FOR **THAT!!!**_. --He’d had to make a decision, and between a choice of saving his Zodiac-Sixer so that he would finally get out of there and the other ‘Ford that he actually _liked_... WELL, it had been no choice at all! If he saved Sixer, he’d eventually get out, and eventually be able to save that ‘Ford to bring him back. Win-win. -- _Of course_ he’d gone with saving Sixer, stabilizing _his_ portal and letting that other one’s atoms just dissolve into the ether, not even _properly_ fully-connected to the Nightmare Realm in the first place. 

Bill had already even figured out a few ways that should lead to tricking that Stanford into giving him the breathing room to do the whole thing without incident, just a bit before the unexpected ‘dimensional rescue mission' had started! --But after that trip and being back, he'd still held back from actually doing it, for one person and one person only, and one very important reason to do with that person.

His little sister.

Bill _refused_ to expose his little sister to Stanley’s twin -- he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ allow ‘Ford near her. Because as bad as that younger Stanford had been in that other newly-created ‘offshoot’ of this dimension, the older 'Ford that had been _here_ had been _worse_. Worse, and _NOT_ in the good-way worse. Worse AND intelligent enough to know how to FAKE being a PERSON to manipulate people into getting what he wanted. (Case-in-point: Glasses.) ‘Ford had been _fun_ , fun to play with and fun to talk to and interact with, but in Bill’s opinion? Most truly FUN things were not at-all _safe_. And his sister was not him; he _DID NOT TRUST_ that other ‘Ford around her or with her. (His sister was too trusting. Too ‘nice’. And she forgave far, _far_ too easily. She didn’t ever WANT to stay mad. And she was too eager to please on top of all that, and _THAT_ meant…)

_\--‘Ford would EAT HER ALIVE and not even spit out the **bones** of her vessel or Self--_

\--And that was MORE than enough reason for Bill to refused to even consider the idea of letting that ‘Ford be around his little sister, for even the smallest split- _instant_ of time! Bill did not want _anyone_ like that **anywhere** near his little sister. It would be like Gideon but worse. (The living ventriloquist dummy wasn’t even _comparable_ to--)

And with how… _naive_ his little sister was at times… she wanted to see the best in most-people, even when she had _reasons_ to WANT to stay away. And with the way she’d reacted -- and _kept on_ reacting to that Stanford… No. If Bill brought ‘Ford back while she was here… she would want to see him, at least once. And Bill didn’t lay high odds on whether he would be able to keep her away from _him_ , if she wanted to meet him, even once.

And it would only take once. In some ways, ‘Ford was like a _black hole_ \--

\--But Bill HAD to bring 'Ford back to keep-and-fix-and-keep the agreement that he had going with Stanley. He had to. Because that was Stanley's line, messing with his family. And that 'Ford was Stanley's twin. His ‘family’, too, in the way that Stanley would define it.

But Bill _couldn't_ bring 'Ford back without him being somewhere nearby the house. Where he was staying, because Stanley wanted him to stay here, here -- because of the agreement. And where his sister was staying with him, with Stanley’s ‘that’s fine, she should stay here with you’. --He didn’t want ‘Ford and that would put ‘Ford _somewhere_ **near** his sister, but he’d be stretching the agreement _past_ the limits if he left the house once ‘Ford was back. Because of course ‘Ford would stay at the house, with Stanley and the rest of them. (Even with what Bill was planning at and beyond _that_ , ‘Ford would _still_ be staying at Stanley’s house for at _least_ a long enough length of time that his sister--) And his sister’s curiosity would have her going towards and _seeking out_ ‘Ford just because she wanted to--!

\--Bill was _not_ going to tell his sister that she had to leave. Not the house, to stay in town. Not the town, because it would require at _least_ that distance, to keep her far enough away to stay out of ‘Ford’s general range of influence, out on her own -- but even that probably wasn’t enough. Which meant that to keep his sister _truly_ safe, and far enough away and not only out of reach of ‘Ford, but far enough that she wouldn’t even _think_ of coming over and potentially seeing ‘Ford at the house, in the ‘Falls, _here_ \--

...The only way _that_ would happen would be if Bill asked-or-told her to leave his dimensional set entirely. (The other demons out there were too much of a risk; having her go to another dimension while still in this dimensional set and having her stay, visiting her there, was risky even in its own way. He _might_ be able to ask her to go off-and-back to Lee’s new dimension, but Bill doubted that she would actually stay there on her own. And he didn’t want to expose her to any of the demons-from-the-Outside that were roaming around out there, out in the dimensions that she hadn’t Seen for herself here, yet.) And that was the thing that Bill didn’t even want to _think_ about doing.

...But Bill _had_ to bring ‘Ford back _NOW_ , because Stanley _was_ going to figure it out any day now -- Bill had been watching him _carefully_ , and he was seeing it happen, seeing the signs as it slowly kept on progressing, the unconscious thought making its way forward into truly conscious thought, right up to that point -- and once Stanley _did_ realize it, Stanley would also realize that the agreement wasn't just broken, it had been null-and-void to begin with, _right from the start_ \--

Which left Bill with a dilemma.

Keep the agreement, or keep his sister.

...not that Bill was EVER going to give up his sister, not for ANYTHING! That would be stupid! But… telling-or-asking her to _leave?_ He couldn't do THAT, either -- he didn't WANT to do that, either! That WASN'T what big brothers did!

And so Bill thought hard about this now, lying on his back in his spelled-fully-safe attic room, while his sister -- back in their triangle form for the first time in a while (since they weren't going off to see any of the humans, he’d thought it would be okay to be a triangle again around his brother) -- was entertaining themselves with some sort of arts and crafts project, while staying quiet so Bill could think. And Bill thought, and he thought, and he thought, until his stupid human-ish body felt almost _itchy_ with wanting to do _something_ , but he didn’t know what it was, what movement it was wanting to make on him now. ….Until he did. And when he finally realized exactly what it was that his stupid body wanted to do…

...Bill sat up and reached out to gently pick his sister up, carefully cradling their small form close to his stupid body’s own.

MizBill tilted back to look up at him. "Brother? What's wrong?" Their bricks glowly faintly as they spoke.

And Bill just didn't know what to do. He was getting agitated, jittery and stressed as all hell about all of this, and--

\--and--

...and MizBill reached up a small hand to place on his cheek. "Talk to me. What's bothering you? I can help with what you have a problem with."

And Bill chittered in a distressed way. "I'm the big brother. _I’M_ the one who's supposed to help YOU with _YOUR_ problems!"

MizBill almost rolled his eye. "Yes. But you're still new to the whole experience of being an older sibling. I've had little sisters and a brother; I know how to be an older sibling. Now tell me what's bothering you and I’ll help."

Bill didn’t like it, but he knew he was too agitated to figure this out on his own -- _and_ he needed to talk to him anyway, yes? Because staying up in the attic, or staying in town someplace else, or staying in another dimension -- he could at _least_ do his sister the uncommon-courtesy of explaining the problem, why he didn’t want him around ‘Ford, why it was such a bad idea for him to do that, and offer him a _choice_ \--!!

Even if his sister didn’t go anywhere, and promised Bill he’d stay up in the attic the entire time ~~_trapped_~~ while ‘Ford did whatever he wanted to downstairs, he’d still need to tell him, and explain. He really couldn’t get around _explaining_ it all to his little sister before it all, no. One way or the other.

So Bill told him. He told him about the choices he was trapped between. The pros and cons, the things he would stand to gain or lose. The things he didn't want to lose.

MizBill listened, and then he nodded. "Ah, I see. --I understand," he clarified. "You're afraid that you'd have to choose between me or Stanley." MizBill sighed when he felt Bill shudder in reaction to that. "Well, here's the thing, you can have us both."

"Siblings come first," Bill told her angrily. He wasn’t choosing between Stanley and his sister -- he was choosing between Miz and the agreement -- which (eventually) led to him getting Liam back. If it was just a choice between Miz and Stanley, he’d pick Miz every time. --And Stanley would _understand_ that, or at the very least _couldn’t complain_ \-- he had ‘family’ as his line, and he’d kick Bill to the curb long before letting _anyone_ break that.

Bill frowned and looked away, off to the side. "I won't force you to have to suffer through being around 'Ford. It's bad enough you have to handle Sixer being around--"

"--And I won't have to," MizBill assured him. "You just need to bring 'Ford back. I can leave-- just for a little while!" MizBill assured his brother quickly when immediately Bill stiffened at his words (-- because that _wasn’t_ what he’d wanted his sister to think! He’d been _absolutely_ careful not to ask him that, or even bring it up that way, just stating the facts surrounding _why_ he didn’t want Miz and ‘Ford anywhere _near_ each other--).

"I will keep in touch through my blog," MizBill told him, then frowned as he thought. "And you can handle things here. Tell me when it's safe enough for me to come back."

"--I don’t want you to leave," Bill told her quickly. "I want you not to leave! I never said that! I never said _either_ of those things!"

MizBill gave his brother a reassuring eye-curved smile. "I won't be gone forever. My Door leads to you. And… well, that GlitchBill is gone. I… technically don't have an excuse to stay. And--" here, MizBill looked, and felt, quite guilty, "--I have to go home. I can't… leave my friends alone. I love you, and I love them too." He seemed to shrink in on himself. "And I miss them." He finally admitted. "But I'll miss you too. And, I'll come back and visit again once it's safe."

Bill grimaced and his whole upper half -- head, torso, and arms -- bobbed side to side, as he parsed this new information from her. He hadn’t realized… that she might _want_ to leave. Him. To go elsewhere. _Right now._ ...To go back home. …...To her _friends_ , and no siblings left alive that she could see or even See there.

But Bill had known of the possibility of that far earlier than this, as more of an ‘eventually’ than a ‘soon’. And he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t stop his sister from leaving, if Miz wanted to leave, he wasn’t going to trap her here… with him… if she really didn’t want to stay here.

And his sister had also said that he would miss him. _And come back_ \-- but they _also_ wanted to leave--!

No. No, there was something much more wrong with what his sister had just said than _leaving him_. His sister going home to their original dimensional set would mean--

"--Don’t go home," Bill finally told her, with authoritative urgency. " _Go to Seb_ , instead. --It’s not safe for you back in your home dimension, with your," Bill grimaced, "-- _‘dad’_ lizard who’s…" Bill looked irate all over again for a moment, before he pulled in a breath pushed _most_ (but not all) of it back down. "Who probably-almost- _DEFINITELY_ has some plans for _using_ you. --You’re safe staying away from him, now. _Much_ safer, out and away where that stupid thing can’t get at you, at all ever -- only ‘hear’ about you, _maybe_ , in some places _other_ than this." Because they’d learned in that _other_ ‘set that the local stupid lizard _here_ just didn’t talk to any of the other ones that apparently also talked to the one from Miz’s current ‘home’ dimensional set. (And, eventually, Bill wanted to make THIS set his sister’s home ‘set. But that was for later. For now…) "If you want to go elsewhere, stay with Seb at _least_ until I can work out a way to keep you _more_ safe around it," or anyone else.

MizBill winced, still not wanting to believe Ax could… could be _merely_ using him. That couldn’t be true, or at the very least, it couldn’t be the full story. Dad _cared_ about him. He did! He must! MizBill believed so, and he wouldn’t just write him off without actually talking to Ax first, getting his side of the story. MizBill refused to let this be some horrible misunderstanding. ~~And it wasn't like being used was all that bad, right? Because it still meant you were use _ful_ as opposed to use _less_ \--~~ But he didn’t say this aloud, because his big brother would be upset. Instead, he nodded. "I don’t mind going to visit Seb. He’s nice."

Bill nodded at this. (But he wasn’t stupid; he noted that that _WASN’T_ a ‘yes, I will go see him and stay with him, and stay there until you call me, and not go back to my home ‘set again’, not even a little. Which _might_ mean that...)

"That’s good," Bill told his little sister (while keeping his _own_ thoughts to himself, for now...). "You can go to Seb; we can keep in contact through your blog. I’ll be able to tell you when it’s safe to come back-- we can talk at least some of this out over your blog. Operational security," he noted once again.

MizBill nodded. "So… will you be bringing Stan’s twin back?" he asked, changing the subject casually.

Bill let out something of a chittering-tsk. "Yes. Soon." ‘After you go,’ remained unsaid.

MizBill bit his lip and thought. "Better do it sooner than later. They’re beginning to suspect something’s wrong."

"...I’m aware," Bill drawled out at his little sister, giving him a look.

MizBill winced. He felt a little guilty about that, having sort of dropped hints all over the place. --Well he wanted them to know! He didn’t like this situation! ( _And now he would have to leave his brother for a bit because of it, because he hadn’t completely thought these things out,_ is what Bill would complain about, if he knew his sister’s own thoughts on the matter just then. But Bill wouldn’t exactly have much ground to stand on there, either, given how _he_ was the one who hadn’t realized the problem in the first-place, _before_ he’d made and agreed-to abide by that agreement with Stanley.)

"I should leave after dinner tonight," MizBill said simply. That way, brother would have the entire rest of this afternoon to think of a way to convince that Stanford to let him down into the lab, to be able to enact it that evening, right after Miz left. (If he didn’t already have a plan; his big brother was so smart! Always thinking a few thousand steps ahead! Nothing at all like him, who _could_ do that too… but was generally too lazy or non-invested in things to do so.)

...and also because MizBill wanted to spend the rest of the day with his brother. And when he told his brother that, the older demon had no issue at all with it. (The only issue he had was that his sister was leaving so soon. He wanted her to stay with him _FOREVER_.)

So the two demons spent the rest of the day together, quietly snuggled in each other’s embrace. It was a little boring for MizBill, not having anything more exciting to do, but MizBill didn’t mind.

\---

"..." It was the evening now. The two had eaten dinner, brought upstairs by Melody and left at the base of the last flight of attic stairs for them, and now it was time. They were down in the grass, the lawn of the Shack, outside the barrier, and...

...Miz wasn’t sure how to feel, now that she actually had to leave. She'd known that this was coming, and that it needed to be done. And she really _did_ want to go home (even if brother said it wasn’t a good idea). But...

"I’ll come visit again some time," she promised her brother, back in her human Miz form. They still had their arms wrapped around each other in a very long hug.

"Yes," Bill said simply. He acknowledged what his sister-self was saying as best as he could, but he didn't want her to go, and didn't want to promise anything to her that he might not be able to keep. (Because that would be…)

"I’ll try to keep connected on your blog. And see about other means of communication." Because if she could get Com-service to work between dimensions… like she’d used Mary’s specialized Com to test with (which was going well, they’d texted back and forth a few times, Mary even updated her on the twin’s situation, as she was capable of seeing it. And it appeared Young Ford really had gone back to school) to see about opening a direct chatroom with her brother as well.

Bill nodded. "I will put color on my Door once there is no longer an _immediate_ problem," he told her. Because it wasn’t as though killing ‘Ford once he was back was going to be on the menu; _not immediate_ was going to be the best that he was going to be able to go for here. But _that_ would be _more_ than good enough; he would _make sure_ of it. "What color do you want it to be?"

"A ying-yang heart with blue and yellow!" Was Miz’s quick reply.

Hm. He hadn’t tried tossing _shapes_ of color on any of those Doors yet, but he could probably do it. --He would _find_ a way to make it work regardless. "And anytime it is possibly unsafe for you here?" Bill asked her next.

"Make the heart be broken into two halves and go gray." Miz nodded to herself, yeah. That would be a good indicator that something was wrong.

Bill nodded once as he held her. "Grey shades down to black. --Black meaning you should not open the Door under _any_ circumstances. Too dangerous," he told her. "I will note where _I_ am if that happens," he told her next, then paused. "There will be nothing on the Door until some of the _immediate_ problems are handled here first. Yes?"

"Okay," Miz said. She didn’t exactly like the idea that Bill was thinking of something that might have him needing to flee his own dimensional set? ...But maybe he was just planning ahead for everything, just in case. Her brother _did_ seem to try and do that a lot. (And he was pretty paranoid. She deliberately did not mention that the paranoia reminded her of that Stanford, the two were actually kind of alike sometimes…)

Finally, Miz couldn’t delay anymore. She turned away and dropped her vessel -- not dispersing it, but changing it into a small doll (...one which Bill ended up catching up in his arms quite easily, because of the hug he hadn't stopped giving her). "Here," she told her brother, as she turned in place in the (general) Mindscape to face him. "Keep it. It’ll save energy if I don’t have to build a new one when I come back. And… if you feel lonely or need a hug, you can hug it." She wasn’t sure if he would, but it was a nice thought.

Bill let out a soft "Ha." He watched her. "You know I bite dolls," he reminded her, but the small smile he had at his mouth didn't reach his eyes as he said it, and even the smile at his mouth fell slowly thereafter. He continued cradling the doll-vessel carefully in his arms. "I’ll make sure your vessel remains unharmed," he told her more seriously.

Miz nodded. There was no more stalling. The Door materialized behind her. She floated back towards it, listening for any other broken Bills that might have been there and finding nothing. "Well… see you soon," she told him.

Because she wasn’t going to say good bye.

Because this wasn’t a good bye.

Not at all.

...and Bill apparently thought this wasn’t one either. "I'm coming with you," Bill told her, and Miz startled a bit.

"You can't--" she began (because he couldn't come with her, he needed to stay behind and bring Fister back!), but Bill shook his head as he stomped his foot firmly into the ground once, then folded his legs under him to sit down just as fluidly, even as the mandala he'd just visualized was still finishing burning itself into the grass around him -- a circle of protection for him and her vessel while he was 'away'.

"I want to know which Door is yours," he told her, "And which Door is Seb's." At her confused, startled look, he explained to her, "I want to be able to find you easily later. _Just in case._ " He saw his sister’s eye go wide at the implications of that thought just before he closed his eyes, her doll-vessel held in his lap, and he slipped out of his body with a bit of effort -- all on his own this time; he remembered how he'd done it with her help before, all the correct paths and pathways that she'd been able to see externally and help him maneuver his way through without breaking anything.

...and the way she paused and bobbed _guiltily_ in place in the general Mindscape for a moment, as Bill finished slipping his Self out of his body _without_ disrupting the Anchor that still connected to (and held onto part of) him, had him suspecting already that she really had been planning on going back to _her_ dimensional set first, instead of going to Seb like he’d hoped she’d meant to agree to be doing.

"I can tell you which ones they are, you don't have to come," Miz said slowly, looking slightly uncomfortable at having gotten caught out by him.

"I want to see them myself," Bill told her. Because he had an idea or two that he didn’t want to say out-loud out and around here -- not out here in the grass, not even under his _attic_ -barrier -- but… "I want to know where they are currently, before you go through them," he told her right then. He pulled in another 'breath'. "And I want to make sure that nothing catches you along the way. ...Let a big brother escort you back?" he tried next at her clear reticence at the idea, thinking as quickly as he could. "This is a thing that big brothers do, yes? I won't _know_ you've made it back safely or not if I don't," he told her quite honestly.

MizBill couldn't help but giggle at that. "Yeah, you're right." Looks like she wasn't going to be able to get one past him. Wow. ...Was this what _she_ was like when she was being overprotective? She had to apologize to the twins when she got back, if she remembered to. She nodded to him, and the Door opened behind her. Bill followed along; the Door sucked them both into the void.

Just like last time, the abrupt change from a world with life, to the absolute silence of the Void of Doors, was jarring to Miz.

The two floated in the void for a moment, reorienting themselves before MizBill glanced around and 'felt' for her door. "Mine's this way…" Miz pointed in one direction. "And Seb's is…" she was stalling, brother was _stalling_ her, she wanted to go _**home**_. Even if it 'wasn't safe' according to brother.

And while Miz valued his input, she wasn't a child. She could take care of herself. And she _could_ handle her dad! Sure, he was incredibly powerful and the ultimate god or whatever, but she wasn't a pushover either. But brother was watching, and he was stubborn. She knew this. "--Seb’s is that way!"

"Show me?" Bill asked his sister, but it wasn’t really a question. Miz didn’t quite let out a huff at this. Her brother was being so stubborn.

\--But Miz was MORE stubborn! Her stubbornness wouldn't lose out to anyone!

But she flew off to find Seb's Door anyway; she DID want to visit him. Would be good to know where his Door was.

As they traveled along -- Miz taking the lead, Bill following while looking about and out for any potential problems while refusing to lose track of her -- Bill asked her, "Can you move them? The Doors?" And with the way he said it, Bill somehow didn't make his question sound like a question at all. He made it sound more like a certainty than anything (he did so on purpose, and rather purposefully) -- as if he was asking whether she knew _how_ to do it, instead of whether it was actually a possibility at all.

Miz considered it before reaching for a random Door and pushed it. There was a faint resistance at first, before the Door drifted away. "Huh. Cool." Miz blinked. So they could move. Well, that would be useful. She got distracted nudging the Doors around and lining them up beside each other for a bit, before she got back on track. --Right. Find Seb’s Door.

"Here. This one is Seb’s. I think?" Miz squinted at the Door. It was part of the [Triplet AU] section, but there were several here with the same words on the Door. And they all kinda felt like Seb. Miz deduced that these were alternate versions of Seb. It made her wonder if there were alternate versions of herself as well. It was odd to think of. Nonetheless, she thought she found which Door was for her specific Seb.

"’You think’ this is it?" Bill asked her. He hadn’t thought she had any memory problems… ~~the idea itself was **VERY** disturbing to him.~~

"...Yes?" Miz said.

"You ‘think’? Or you _know_ ," Bill asked her again as he floated in place next to her, watching her.

Miz thought for a moment, watching the text change back and forth a few times, and remembering what she’d seen before. "It’s his Door," she said more firmly.

"Check," was what Bill said next, and Miz blinked.

"...What?" Miz turned back to look at him.

"If you are sure that it is his, and that it is safe, then check," Bill told her next, as he crossed his arms slightly, floating in place.

MizBill couldn’t help but narrow her eye at him a bit. "You’re trying to trick me into not going home," she told him. "I want to go home. And I can be more stubborn than you are," she told him.

There was a bit of a pause for a moment.

"...Is that a challenge?" Bill asked her neutrally next, almost tonelessly.

MizBill looked at him, then looked away. "No…" she said.

There was another long pause, which left Miz feeling antsy before she looked up at her brother again. "But--" she began.

"--I will NOT stop you from going ‘home’ again, EVER," Bill told her, cutting her off, and Miz felt a little startled at this. He didn’t exactly look happy about it, but… she didn’t think he was lying? She felt like she might be missing something there, though. What little drifts of emotion she was getting from him now -- which he seemed to be doing a _really_ good job of not letting himself project at her at all (when... she didn’t have her headband on? Oh…) -- seemed a little tangled up, and really complex, a lot more complex than she remembered feeling from him before. (Even more complex than what little she’d been feeling from him, up in the attic, when they’d been talking about…)

"You won’t?" she said slowly, and Bill shook his head.

"No, I won’t stop you," Bill said. "I could for at least a _LITTLE_ while, I’m sure," he told her with a slight smile, "But that would be a trap. And then you would escape and never want to come back to me again, because you would think I would trap you again. ...Which would mean that you wouldn’t come to me when you’re feeling alone. I’m not going to risk you not coming to me when you’re feeling lonely," he told her, then grimaced. "I don’t like not being your first choice for safety," he told her. "But I want you to have at least one place and person that you can always come to, no matter what. --Even if you don’t know if I’ve handled ‘Ford yet, if you want to come see me, I don’t want you hesitating to do that," Bill told her. "I’ll figure something out, even if ‘Ford is there. Stanley may complain, but I WILL find a way to handle it properly, without risking Liam’s return later not-happening at the end of things. ...And I will always find a way to let you know where I am," he added, at the last.

Miz startled a bit at Bill’s mention of Liam. And Miz was reminded of the fact that Bill hadn’t actually agreed to her leaving because of ‘Ford, or even asked her to go. He had admitted that it would be easier to handle, and safer for her, if she left, when _she_ asked _him_ specifically about it, but… he hadn’t asked her to go.

...He wasn’t just balancing things with Stan and ‘Ford and that Stanford and all the rest of them, was he. He was actually trying to balance Liam against… her. He was trying to prioritize between siblings, and if it was obvious to her before that he didn’t really know how to be a big brother yet, it was crystal-clear to Miz now that he didn’t know how to handle more than one sibling at a time.

Miz sighed. ...Brother really _was_ trying, wasn’t he? "It’s going to be harder for you if I stay with you any longer," Miz reminded him. "And, you don’t have to choose between me or Liam. You can have both," she told him, reiterating the words she’d told him before.

"I know," Bill said. "And I know. I can, and will, have you both. -- _And_ I don’t want you to hesitate to come to me if you want to see me, _for any reason_ ," he repeated.

"And I want to go home," Miz told him next. To remind him of that too.

" _I know_ ," Bill said, and he both looked and sounded agitated at the reminder of that, as he looked away from her but...

...it was weird. Miz could _see_ that he was acting a little differently, and his energy flow--

Miz blinked. His energy flow was moving a little differently. So were his (encrypted) thoughts, what little she could sense of those of them that vibrated little bits and pieces of ‘I’m here’ness out into their surroundings. He _sounded_ a little different right now, but it wasn’t just that. Bill was… her brother was...

"You’re planning something," Miz noted. It was super-complex, very dense, and she wasn’t imagining things, there was _definitely_ a lot more activity now than she’d sensed going on back when they’d been in his own ‘set, even a short while ago. (It reminded her a bit more like what he’d been like in that ReverseBill’s other dimension.) "Just… tell me?" she asked him. She didn’t really like the idea of being led around on a string, which was what this was almost starting to feel like to her.

Bill looked back over at her.

And then he dropped his shoulders, and his arms loosened a bit, and he sighed.

And Bill told her everything he expected to have happen next.

That he expected her to not want to go in Seb’s door, thinking it was a ‘trap’.

That she would either protest and say she wanted to go home now, first, or that he expected her to stay there longer than just a few seconds to check everything out.

That he planned to tell her that she shouldn’t go back in her own Door before checking to make sure that she had at least one other place that she felt completely comfortable ‘escaping’ to, if necessary, and that he realized that there was a double-digit probability that she wouldn’t come back to his own ‘set until he gave her the all-clear -- which he thought was way too high.

He told her that he expected to have to argue with her about stubbornness and coming back right away, and promise to stay floating _right there_ by Seb’s Door until she came back out -- as a sort of other-risk for _him_ if she stayed any longer than those few seconds, giving her a reason to come back straightaway, just in case there were any more ‘broken Bills’ about, somewhere, farther away.

He told her that he expected a non-zero chance of her trying to tell him that she didn’t need to check. He told her that he might have to push her into deciding how sure she was about that Door or not -- to go in there alone, on her own, by herself. And he told her that he wouldn’t let her go in any Door that she wasn’t already absolutely sure was Seb’s, but also wouldn’t let her feel comfortable going back in her own Door without at least making sure that she knew exactly which Door was Seb’s.

"But you won’t come in with me when I check?" Miz asked him, frowning at him. He shook his head once. "Why?"

"Seb didn’t invite me," Bill told her simply.

Miz eyed him. That sounded super-suspicious to her. "The ReverseBill didn’t invite you, but you went in there…"

"That Bill didn’t know me," Bill brushed off. "And you invited me to go exploring places with you."

Miz gave her big brother another look, because she was pretty sure that Bill still would’ve insisted on coming along even if she’d tried to tell him no.

"I care more about you, my sister, than some other Bill that I don’t know," Bill told her succinctly. "And I do know Seb. Seb met me and didn’t invite me over to come visit," Bill told her. "That _isn’t_ a ‘yes, I want you in my dimensional set with me, please’; it’s the opposite."

"...What else?" Miz asked him, because she doubted her very plan-ny big brother would’ve just stopped at that.

And then Miz blinked as Bill told her what he’d expected she’d need to know next -- and began to demonstrate (via something of a few pantomimed motions, along with a rather thorough but brief accompanying explanation) what he’d thought of as an ‘escape hatch’ for her, even in the event that a ‘broken Bill’ might be on the other side of the Door of her home ‘set, waiting. It basically involved moving Seb’s Door over to be right _behind_ hers, in a special but really very simple kind of way.

Bill had noticed, and then noted -- from everything that he’d seen (and Seen) thus far with her Door and what she’d shown both him and Stanley -- that the ‘broken Bills’ couldn’t get through the Doors on their own -- not just the locks, but the _actual Doors_ themselves. He shared his theory with her that she could probably materialize the Door, then _slam_ it open into the ‘broken Bill’ to shove it away from her -- and then slip her way out quickly, closing it behind her, without getting touched, reach, or hurt (and then consumed) by it. With even a little breathing room, she could then dash -- if not simply slide and rotate herself -- right around the edge of the doorframe, and pull open Seb’s Door immediately, slamming it shut it behind her.

All she would need to do, to do that, would be to move Seb’s Door behind hers, _turn it upside down_ so that both the doorknobs were at the same edge, and then ‘stick’ it in place so that it wouldn’t go anywhere else in the meantime.

And the reason the whole thing would work was because Miz could move her own Doors around however she wanted, and the Doors only opened one way. Bill noted that aloud to her outright. The ‘hinges’ and ‘doorframes’ only let them open the one way, in the one direction. The ‘backs’ of the Doors might as well be completely immovable and useless, in terms of getting anyplace freely. They didn’t even have any ‘doorknobs’ on them; the backs of the Doors were almost completely smooth surfaces.

It made her want to smack her forehead, with how stupidly simple it was. She didn’t say that out loud to him though, just like she hadn’t said anything about any of his younger-self’s childlike-scribble ‘hats’ made of light.

She also had to fight down a laugh when Bill didn’t stop there. He apparently had a plan for how she could capture ‘broken Bills’ in here, too. And the way he described it was not only cute, it was just as stupidly simple as the ‘escape hatch’ idea that he’d had.

He didn’t pantimome anything this time, demonstrating it for her himself; he actually drew out the wireframes and ‘animated’ them for her, in pretty much the same way that he’d visually drawn those ‘hats’ of his out of light.

Miz looked on and watched as he drew six doors in the air, and an odd sort of ‘tangle’ to represent a ‘broken Bill’. Bill then enclosed the ‘broken Bill’ in the middle of a box, using four ‘Doors’ to surround it on all sides in a square-shape, looking down on it from above… and then _really_ finish enclosing it on _all_ sides by adding a ‘top’ and ‘bottom’ to the box -- covering them by using those last two odd-out ‘Doors’, too.

And then Miz blinked as Bill shifted the sides past each other, further and further, slowly shrinking the space in the middle, until it started to look more like an open-centered Brigid’s cross than a box anymore. It was still just as _tall_ as ever… but it seemed a little more contained now, with all the sides of every Door overlapping each other a bit.

(Miz was reminded of those matchstick puzzles. Also, if she did manage to capture a broken Bill with the Doors, she could technically move them around by moving said Doors while keeping the ‘cage’ functional.)

And apparently she and Bill were on the same wavelength on this one, because the very next thing Bill did after that was begin to explain his ideas for how and why such a trap would work. How having the doorknobs towards the ‘broken Bill’ would make it not want to escape, but rather probably _go towards_ it. How shifting the edges in that way past the hinges, not making it a ‘box’ where all the outer edges were touching and fully-flush, would make it so the Doors couldn’t be opened from inside that boxed-in area, even if the ‘broken Bill’ would otherwise somehow be able to manage it, if given enough time, because the Doors slammed open _out_ wards into her Dreamscape, rather than opening _in_ to the ‘set that they gave entry in upon -- they wouldn’t be able to open ‘into’ the inside ‘trap’ area, with the box arrangement blocking the hinges from moving...

...and then Bill moved straight on to what Miz had been thinking of: How he thought the backsides of the Doors -- without ‘doorknobs’ on them, and the ‘hinges’ being the wrong way around to even allow that sort of motion -- could be set up and used to ‘face’ and trap a ‘broken Bill’ for longer-term viewing and ‘storage’, if necessary, instead. (HAH!) How he thought Miz could set up a second ‘box’ without ‘doorknobs’ showing, or only one showing, and let the ‘broken Bill’ maneuver its way into _that_ one instead. How he thought she could swap out one ‘Door’ with another along one single side at a time, without letting anything inside get free, with how she could potentially maneuver the Doors around there.

"You’ll want to practice before you do it," Bill told her, as he finished visually showing her the examples of all the motions that he’d thought through, and Miz nodded, then blinked as he _handed her_ the little lightshow of eight doors that he’d just shown her.

"You’ve been thinking a lot about this," Miz noted (it wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed how he had trouble figuring out -- literally, _figuring out_ \-- certain kinds of three-dimensional movements in his body sometimes), and Bill nodded once.

"Don’t forget to look in _EVERY_ direction for them, outside your outer-sides of yourself," Bill told her next, pointing a finger outwards and gesturing around them in a circle as he slowly rotated… and then started moving his arm to point both downwards and then upwards. "These Doors may mostly be in-a-line with each other, around here," he said, and they were -- pretty much all facing the same way, in the same orientation, and at the same ‘floor’ level with each other -- "But that doesn’t mean that some of them might not think in all-other directions just as easily. That one Bill was… _always human_ ," Bill noted with a bit of a wince, if not a stifled shudder. "There may be other three-dimensional Bills, from higher-dimensional spaces, in other places that we haven’t gone to and Seen yet." And he looked anything but happy at the idea.

Miz sighed at her brother’s reaction to the very idea of that, and put away the little practice ‘Door set’ for now, rewinding and flattening it out in much the same way that she’d done with the hat that Bill had given her. She knew that he didn’t think of her _that_ way, and he didn’t seem to… look down on her for being human a long time ago, or for wanting to be human again still? But...

Miz shook those (worrying) thoughts away from herself, and then she reached out to grip Seb's Door. And then stretched her other hand out in the direction she felt her own. This was her Dreamscape, she could do whatever. Instead of moving Seb's Door away from his cluster toward her own Door completely, she instead pulled his Door a little ways away from his section, and then pulled her own Door towards herself from where it had been. Then, after a quick glance at her brother, a third arm stretched out to get his door as well.

"Is this ok? Having all three of us close together?" she asked, feeling a little nervous for moving her brother's door without asking.

"This is your Dreamscape," he told her. "I’m not going to try moving anything unless you want me to." (Not least of which because Stanley hadn’t given him full access to his powers for this impromptu trip, so he didn’t have nearly as much leeway with his powers and abilities right now as he had when last they’d been in here together before.) "If you want to move something, you move it. Yes?"

Miz flickered orange for a second. "I like the idea of you being close by. So I can visit you easier."

Bill smiled slightly at that, but it faded again quickly.

"Check Seb’s dimension first, now," he told her, crossing his arms again. "You can decide whether it will be easier to use his Door instead of mine for now, as an escape hatch." He paused for a moment. "I will stay right here and not-move while you do it."

"Okaaaay~" Miz huffed before giggling. Being doted on in this way was… interesting. She went toward Seb's Door and glanced back at her human-looking but not at all human and never had been brother before she eye-smiled. "Be back in a few secs."

Bill nodded once, with no expression on his face.

But when she reached out her hand for the doorknob to the Door, she had a flash of anxiety. Bill had pretty much refused to come into Seb’s dimension with her, and… he’d talked about moving Doors and stuff, and how to keep them closed. He’d said he wasn’t going to trap her, but what if--

_\--what if he moves another Door in front of this one and I can’t get back out? What if he locks it on me somehow? What if--_

No. She… was… going to trust him.

He was her _brother_ , and he’d _promised_ he wasn’t going to trap her anywhere, ever.

And then Miz was gone, in and through the Door.

And Bill counted.

One second.

Two.

Three.

He floated slightly forward towards the Doorway, his hands ‘clenching’ in-place ‘against’ (but not against) his purely Mental form...

\---

Miz was quick this time. Making sure to shrink down super-small the instant she was through, so as not to alert the Bill here if she was wrong and it _wasn't_ Seb.

...but it WAS Seb! And he was… at… a fashion show? With a cheering crowd around the runway?! And cameras flashing everywhere?

...he got a fashion show?! That must be what this was! Seb became a fashion designer for real! That was amazing!

Reassured that this WAS her Seb, Miz turned and slipped back through and out the Door without the former demon even noticing she was there.

It was only a few seconds.

\---

...and Miz was out and through the other side, back in her own true Dreamscape again.

...And Bill was a little bit closer to the Door than he had been when she’d gone inside of it.

"...Brother?" she asked him slowly. "You…"

"Yes," Bill said. "I… moved. A _little_ ," he said next. "I didn’t touch it. Or anything."

He sounded a little guilty, though.

Miz felt frustrated. "Were you going to try and trap me in there?" she demanded of him.

"I didn’t," Bill said.

"Brother..." Miz said, hands on her hip-equivalents.

And Bill looked _away_ from her then, looking _very_ frustrated.

"I _wanted_ to, but I didn’t do it!" he told her hotly. "I want you _with_ me more. Trapping you _isn’t_ fine. I’m not going to do that. Not even to make _sure_ that you’re safe," he said, but Miz suddenly realized that it sounded a lot less like Bill was trying to convince Miz of this, and a _lot_ more like he was almost trying to...

...It sounded like he was trying to convince _himself_ that he wasn’t going to do it. To trap her, and keep her forever with him, whether she wanted him to or not.

And Miz looked at him. Really, really looked at him, for a long few moments.

He’d always seemed really super in-control to her, ever since she’d met him. In control of himself, in control of almost every situation he was in. Maybe he still had trouble physically interacting with things sometimes, and he definitely didn’t have his own Zodiac Ten figured out for how to get along with them all yet, but he _always_ seemed to have a plan for absolutely **everything** , to make sure that it was all going to be going his way. --Maybe he really did love chaos, and throwing sanity out the window sometimes, but… to Miz, he’d always seemed _really_ in control of himself. What he was going to do.

This was the first time she’d actually seen him _struggle_ with anything like a choice, really. Struggle with making a choice and a decision, and then struggle even more with following through on it, on something he’d said that he’d do.

And, well… she could understand that, especially given the circumstances. Trying to balance the needs of _two_ siblings could be really hard, sometimes. But… how could she reassure him? How could she help him understand that she didn't want to leave him either?

"--Even if I really want to," Bill told her, "I don’t want to. --I’m _trying_ ," he told her, looking back at her. "I _want_ you to stay with me. I want you to _want_ to stay with me," he told her, "And I want you to stay." And he knew that they both knew that, really, all three of those things were different.

"And I want to stay with you too." Miz told him. "I don't want to leave either. But there are more things I want, too. I want to see my friends again. I want to see my children again." She sighed. "I want to do that. Just as much as I want to be with you."

"I _know_ ," Bill told her. "I know that! I don’t want to stop you, I just-- I want to stop you, but I _don’t_ , because stopping you is worse--" (‘ _unless you die ~~ **and don’t come back**~~_ ’ he thought -- _but he **couldn’t** let himself think that there was any real possibility of that ever happening, he **had** to trust that she wouldn’t **let** that happen to herself again and would call and come to him for help if she thought about **doing** it, or anyone tried to do it **to** her; if he couldn’t believe **that** , then he’d NEVER be able to let himself let her go -- and he tightened his arms around his Self, hands in to keep himself from even be able to try to even start to grab her)_

__

__

"--but--" He looked even more agitated, actually looking almost human for once, in Miz’s eyes, the way his shoulders came up, the way he was holding himself. " _Liam--_ " He clamped down on his lips quickly, shuddering slightly, then shook him head and said, "He never went anywhere. It’s hard," he told her, looking up at her again. "-- _It’s hard._ " And it finally occurred to Miz that what her brother was doing right now? Was something her brother had _never_ really had to think about before, let alone try to follow through on. This was something completely new for him, and… he really _didn’t_ know how to handle it, did he?

"You're just worried. And scared." Miz said to him, explained for him, trying to help him understand himself. "You're afraid I won't come back, that I wouldn't be able to. Or that something bad would happen to me once I Ieave your sight." And she thought of what she could do to make him feel better about this.

"--I’m _‘afraid’_ that you’re going to get lonely again and that lizard of yours is going to talk you into killing yourself _forever_ instead of taking that escape hatch **immediately** to get away from it and coming to _ME_ ," Bill hissed out at her rather angrily, but Miz didn’t have to be a trained psychologist to know that he was projecting at least a little, because it was definitely easier for him to be angry at somebody else about everything than for him to… think that _he_ might not be there for her when she needed him.

"...Back when I was human," Miz admitted softly, "My sister moved out for college. And… she never moved back in. She left our parents house the first chance she got and never looked back." She fiddled with her hands. "And part of me felt really sad that she left. I understood why she did that, but it still hurt that she left me and our other sister behind. I… know she couldn't have taken us with her, but it was still hard to just… not have her there anymore." Miz wasn't exactly sure where she was going with this, but it was still...

"And I didn't get to see her very much anymore. But I still went to visit when I could. It was hard to find the time or the means." Miz sighed. "And that sucked. But, here and now," she gestured around them. "I can come and go as I want. And no one, not Dad, not Time Baby, not even my own fucking depression, is going to stop me from coming to see you again." Miz stared at Bill firmly. "I love you," she told him. "And so long as I do, I won't hurt you by leaving you alone. So I'm not going to die and leave you. And I won't ever stop loving you either." She paused to let that sink in. "That's what I've decided. On how I feel. How I WANT to feel."

And Bill paused, seeming to hang in the air for a very long frozen moment.

And in response to this declaration of love from his sister, Bill said to her: "Then you’d better headband that stupid lizard of yours _immediately_ once you get back, so it can’t mess around with your ‘Soul’ and make you do anything like that, even if it wanted to." His eyes bored into her own, and boy did he look grim. "Or headband _yourself_ away from him straightaway, so that he can’t get at you that way, instead." He straightened slightly in place. "I don’t want _it_ , or _anyone else_ , pushing around your Mind or your Heart or your Soul, telling you what you should think or feel or be, anymore ever again. You know how to do that now, so use it," Bill told her firmly, but he himself seemed to be vibrating slightly in place.

...Ah. Well. --Her brother, practical and eye-on-the-prize as ever. ...Miz guessed this was his big brother super-overprotective-right-now way of saying, ‘I don’t want you to get hurt again’ and ‘I love you, too’.

"I’m not going to die and leave you, either," Bill told her next, to her slight surprise, because she’d thought he was done, that that was all he was going to say to her then. "No takebacks. I meant it, and I mean it, and you meant it, and you mean it. So."

Miz blinked as she remembered that, well, that was almost exactly how they’d decided to become brother and sister to begin with; they’d done that with almost the exact same phrasing. And if her brother really was offering what he just had... "So… I guess…" she rubbed her arm. "I guess, you should teach me how to break my bond with dad first. That… would probably help." She didn't want to break her bond, but… If it would help make her brother feel even just a little bit better about her 'homelife' situation...

Bill let out a slight huff. "‘Breaking a ‘bond’ is about as useful as trying to lock you into, or out of, a dimensional set," he told her, looking away from her for a moment. "There are always ways around it, and you have to lock and block every way that something like that can be done." He glanced back at her. "I showed you my own way of getting back here, that was sort of like using the Doors, and it worked for you," he told her slowly, and she internally winced slightly -- she had hoped he hadn’t thought things through that quite that far…

...but if he _had_ , then how early had he started thinking about forcing her to stay, and trying to tell himself not to do it? Had he actually wanted her to try out his own method of doing that, to give her a second way to do it and get her thinking about the possibilities of other ways of doing that, in order to actually make it harder on himself to lock her into any given ‘set -- maybe even _impossible_ for him to think that he might actually be able to get away with pulling that off, once he’d told her that? --Had he actively and consciously _self-sabotaged_ himself _on purpose_ by doing that, to try and keep himself from being able to do that to her later, knowing full well exactly what he was doing -- and what the later consequences for him would be -- when he was doing it?

Uwu...

"’Bonds’ can reform," he told her. "Breaking them is easy, not simple. Backlash is a thing, and can go either -- or both -- ways; you can influence the way in which the backlash hits, and who, and how hard." Oh man, from the way he was saying this, it sounded like these were just the basics; she was used to how Bill usually explained things to her, now. "Remember when I told you about Karma?" Miz didn’t even get a chance to grimace, let alone nod, before he told her, "It’s a little like that, except the person-or-thing you had those bonds with can and usually will keep trying to reform those bonds with you and drag you back in, in all sorts of different and very not-fun ways."

"Right. Got it." Miz nodded. So she'd have to be careful with that. And fortify her defenses.

"Sometimes," and Bill got a cautious look, " _Sometimes_ , it is easier to let the bond stay in place, but tie it up in a knot even tighter, along the bonding-’string’. --Make it unable to change, and then block it with a blockage. Make it fluid and shift over all of your surfaces, but not actually get any traction; let it rise to the surface, never let it get any deeper. That way," he told her, "You always know where it is. You keep it, but on **YOUR** terms. --I _DON’T_ recommend doing that, keeping it is usually worse," he told her, " _Except_ when the reforming bond might dig in hooks _EVEN DEEPER_ , to a place you can’t reach, or one that would cause even-worse damage if you tried to rip it out directly. --Layering helps," Bill told her. "You can shift things around, slowly move them out and further-out. The _idea_ of relationships works in the same way," he told her. "Some are grabby; some require maintenance; some will disengage on their own if you leave them alone and refuse to communicate with them long enough -- your lizard doesn’t sound like that one, though," Bill told her. "It sounds like the hooks-and-grabby type."

Miz tilted a little. "Ehh… Ax is too lazy to put that much effort into anything." But… would he?

"Miz," Bill said, about as patiently as he could on the subject (which admittedly, _wasn’t very_ ). "Little sister. That lizard is _holding on_ to your Zodiac prophecy. It has a point of leverage over you, for something that you want. It’s a type of ‘bond’," he told her. "And it is _refusing_ to give that up."

"...oh." Hadn't thought of that.

" _And_ , if what it ends up writing is anything like _my_ prophesy," Bill continued, "Then it will add in that part near the end about ‘calling on it’ to ‘shirk the blame’. --Which is another _hook_ to bring you back in and back to it," he noted, quite clearly, while looking her straight in the eye.

"Okay, headband it is. Got it." Miz nodded. Though she would still talk to her dad about it. Despite brother's paranoia, she just… couldn't bring herself to believe Ax would have anything malicious planned for her.

"A general ‘no-touch’ layer, to prevent anyone or anything touching your Soul without a lot of effort and you noticing, is one good first line of defense," Bill told her. "Something to stall anything from sinking in, giving you enough time to _do something_ about it. --Next defense would be something that would let you shift any ‘bond’ or ‘connection’ you have on or in you to the headband directly; let it take the first hit if it tries anything. Switch and shift-around and shunt -- we’ve talked about sympathetic magic and stand-ins; the basic base-line concept is similar," he told her, giving her the best ideas he could think of at the moment. He’d only gotten so far before, and most things in his own ‘set just didn’t attack the ‘Soul’ directly -- not the way that his sister had ever talked about it, that is. And he himself had only really started getting a real sense for what she’d meant when she had done what she’d done and explained with those ‘Soulless’ constructs in the Reverse!Flatland ‘set. To Bill, this was all still **very** _bleeding-edge_ new.

Miz was taking all the mental notes she could. Her power pulsed out, fortifying her mental self, taking her brother's words as pointers for setting the parameters. It left her Self feeling a little tingly before it settled in and down. "Kinda… like this?"

"Good," Bill told her, upon looking her over. "Not how I would do it, but good. --My way would not fit you well," he noted, "Our energy flows are different, and you don’t do any encryption." He frowned a bit. "I didn't explain my own bricks and outer-structure, did I," he noted, realizing something as he looked her over again.

"Encrypting my Self would scramble my thoughts worse than they are already. I'd be even more scatterbrained." Miz grumbled.

"Try thinking in a different, made-up language that nobody else knows, then," Bill told her. "That can be a first step towards the idea of encryption. If they can read you, at least they can’t understand what they’re reading, then. Mostly. Patterns are a thing, still." It wasn’t the same as what he did, but then, that probably wouldn’t work well for her, either. "--You said that the layers feel constraining before, yes? Not comfortable? Because you have to hold them? The way that you have to hold them?"

"Yeah, like I didn't have room to just spread out when I want." Miz liked stretching, reaching out and shifting and changing as she liked.

"You are used to vessels, not exoskeletons that are bigger on the inside, with as many layers as you want and need to have to provide the necessary protection needed for and from all external threats," Bill noted. "And your bricks are also not the same as mine," he told her. He hadn’t really realized it before, but seeing (and Seeing) her for this long outside of any constraining _anything_... "I use my bricks like a constraining structure to hold me in-and-up a bit, as well as build off of. --Not _constraining_ ," he grimaced, "More like… a chair? I sit almost all of myself inside it… but not fully," he noted. "Hats do not surround the whole head; human clothing has holes in it. A body can ‘sit’ in it, clothing and accessories, if they are made in a way that supports the body they were made for." He frowned for a moment. "Climbing harness, built-and-stitched into clothes?" he tried, casting about for ideas. "My bricks are an internal-external support structure. I can lean against parts of myself. Physical muscle and tendons rest on bones; I rest up-and-against my ‘outer’ bricks and brick-lines; they are solid. I don’t usually change them," he told her. "See?" And he turned about in place.

Miz blinked. Because her brother most certainly did _not_ look like a triangle just then, let alone have any ‘brick pattern’ on him, but...

...she could see the anchor standing out fully now, as he turned. It didn’t look like a symbol on his back when he was like this; instead, it seemed to stay under the ‘skin’ and run _through_ him, to curl down and into his center and seem to almost vanish there, to trace back to...

...but that wasn’t the only thing that she saw. Some of the lines of energy of him seemed to pulse a little bit stronger against the others now, as if he was leaning against things, particular parts of his thoughts and thought- and energy-patterns inside him, as he ‘showed off’, trying to show her what he meant. She hadn't really caught it before, with the whole ‘encryption’ thing he had going on -- especially since the bunches of strands she was Looking at now seemed to shift a bit over time as he went, too -- but… there were always some of them _there_ , and sort of acting as some internal _something_ for him, even if she couldn’t really read or See every part of him completely, to see exactly what they were actually doing for him. Every last part of him still seemed to be fuzzed out a bit (a _lot_ ), even when she still tried to See him. (She guessed it was because he was still pretty self-contained and _still_ not letting much of his sense-able energy, thought, or emotion escape out to her past his own ‘surface boundaries’. ...He was probably also still worried about influencing her too much, if she -- or anyone else -- got a really good look at him; he’d been worried before what that might do to her.) But...

"I'll work on it. I think I get what you mean." She also took this chance to search inside herself for her bond to Ax. It wasn't very hard to find once she actually tried looking for it. She was surprised to note that the bond originated from her. She had been the one to make it originally. Huh. Weird.

And when she glanced up at Bill right afterwards, still in somewhat the same mindset in order to see that kind of thing, a bond between someone and an Axolotl...

"Brother! You have a bond to your Axolotl, too!" Miz exclaimed. Because she could See it. Especially since she'd Seen his AXOLOTL in person. It was clear when one knew where to look.

And, oddly enough, Bill didn’t deny it. He just sort-of grimaced at it being brought up and tried to _wave it off_ to her, as he stopped ‘showing off’ and rotating in place.

"Brother…" Miz pressed him, because she _really_ wanted an explanation for that one.

"It’s fine," he told her as he reoriented himself again towards her, "I’m fine," but he was still grimacing over it.

Miz didn't have an eyebrow but she drew one along her top corner just so she could raise it, to make it clear she was being skeptical.

Bill sighed. "...The easiest way for me to take over everything later is _probably_ to trace this connection back to it," he made an odd gesture, "And then trace every _other_ connection _it_ has to and from it going outwards even-further, in order to pick up anything and everything that it would otherwise DROP once I kill it," Bill told her, in almost muted tones, as he hovered there in front of her. "Had to keep _something_ in place to lean on the prophecy, anyway." Though he left out the part where he hadn’t had any real connection to the stupid thing in the first place _before_ that, for _whatever_ reason. (...probably to do with whatever utterly _stupid_ kind of thing it was trying to use him as an _experiment_ for; his hypothesis hadn’t changed yet on that front.) He’d had to forge one himself to it, in order to even _get_ that Prophecy, as a start. And what it had taken to do that--

"Well, as long as you're careful." Miz told him.

"HA!" Bill said, and that got a grin out of him. Miz couldn’t understand why, suddenly, he looked so much more _relaxed_. "‘Free will’ has always been a joke, and a punchline," he told her. "So they keep on lining up the punches for it; so what. Doesn’t mean I can’t still make everything better until it’s the broken-unbroken way it SHOULD BE and should-have-been from the start," he told her.

"Pretty sure Free Will in my dimension works differently too. It felt different, when I was up there with your AXOLOTL."

"Everything feels and actually- _is_ different there, in existential actuality, all the way that high up," Bill told her. "That’s why I have to be careful. That’s why I don’t change; why I refuse to." He shrugged. "Otherwise, what’s the point? I go up there, change, and then don’t want the same things at all anymore? --I’m not that stupid," he told her. "I’m not going to make that kind of mistake."

"It didn't feel like that with my Ax." Miz mused, more to herself than to Bill.

"Probably because you’re a ‘pillar’," Bill told her. "You’re already up at the tip-of-the-top of any and every level that’s ever existed there, from where you are over there, already. But the way moving up-in-and-through all the levels is-and-works-and-happens in my ‘set, all goes very differently than the way it goes in yours, I think."

"Oh right. Sometimes I forget I'm actually kinda important in my world…"

Bill let out a soft short chitter, then nodded. "And the structure is completely different there, too. So the mappings all work out differently, also. --So why would anything feel the same, if nothing is in the same place, or made of any of all of the same things?" he asked her rhetorically.

"True. Well, let's see how this works…" and she unhooked her bond, let it unravel slowly. She shuddered. "Oh this feels weird. Like… being submerged in bubbly soda or something." She shuddered again.

"Grab onto the end of it; don’t let go of it completely!" Bill warned her very quickly, almost reaching for it himself as it nearly started to slide away from her. It would be VERY bad, he suspected, if she let go of it completely, and gave that lizard of hers any warning, of what she was trying to do...

"Got it." She did. "So… do I stick this somewhere?" The end of the bond was very… fluid feeling. Like running her fingers through silky wet sand underwater.

"Make a patch for it, to stitch-and-stick it into-onto?" Bill said after a long moment, his mind going to Shooting Star because of his need for an analogy, and her ‘craft’-iness of how she knew how to make clothing articles that were more physical than mental, for him to be able to continue on explaining things via his earlier analogy. "One you can rip off of yourself if you need to? Like a headband, like a piece-of-a-layer, like a..." Bill was clearly struggling for comparisons at this point.

"Stickers!" Miz cheered as she plastered the mental equivalent of a sticky image of a pork chop with googly eyes onto the end and stuck it to the wall inside herself.

Bill blinked. --Not what he would’ve gone with, but Miz _was_ a bit different than he was in how she worked things, and how she made things work, and what worked best for her, and if it worked? Well, he’d have no complaints! And as for the idea that she’d come up with…

...Hm. Miz _had_ seemed to get along with Shooting Star better than the rest. He’d have to remember at a higher priority level from now on, that both of them liked stickers...

Miz hummed. "Well I have my fortifications and my stickers. Should I get some bubble wrap too?" she teased, thinking of what he’d said about the ‘no-touch layer’. "At what point would it be safe for me to go home?"

"If it works, then use it," Bill told her of the bubble wrap, very practically. As for his sister going home… "It isn’t safe," he told her. "But you’re going to go back to your home ‘set anyway, and I’m not stopping you." He looked about as (un)happy as ever about that, but at least he looked a little (maybe _slightly_ ) less tense about it now than he had been before.

Miz shrugged and spread bubble wrap around her Mindscape anyway. They'd be fun to pop if she got bored. "So…" She looked up at Bill and huffed. "I'm going to be okay. I'm going to he careful."

"Don’t tie yourself up in knots over anything," Bill told her. "If anything, just try for braids, instead." (He actually meant it partially in reference to her ‘snarled’ and ‘tangled’ energy, but he also meant it for some of her thought processes and stressful-decisions as well.) "You can always send me things through your blog," he reminded her.

"I know. I just don't want you to stress out worrying over me." She sighed.

"I will stress more later, when we finally talk again, once we talk again and I know that you did not talk to me when you could have, if you don’t send me things when you could have. I _**promise**_ ," he told her primly, and it sounded almost like some kind of a threat. ...Where he was holding himself and his own stress levels hostage over it?

Miz giggled. "...well, there are some things that little sisters can’t talk to brothers about~" most of which would be due to how embarrassing it would be.

Bill made a confused chittering sound. "What?! --What can’t you talk about with me? I can talk about ANYTHING!" he proclaimed.

"Boys I might like?" Miz asked, just to test the waters.

"--I will analyze them for you and _MAKE THEM PAY_ ," Bill said to her promptly. "Maybe. If they deserve it and aren’t ‘good’ enough for you. Or to you. --Which they won’t be. Probably."

Wow. So this was how Pynelope felt. Miz couldn't help but laugh. "And maaaaybe~ I'd want to keep secrets so they'd be a pleasant surprise later~ who knows~" she couldn't help but tease him, he looked so serious right now.

"I don’t like surprises," Bill told her, "They interrupt my plans and require replanning on-the-fly. Tell me anyway."

" _I_ was a surprise." Miz reached her hand up to move her eyebrow again.

"You’re not a surprise," Bill told her. "You are a me-that-is-also-a-me. --I would have to meet one of you eventually. How is meeting you a surprise?"

"Me being your new sister was a surprise. Wasn't it a pleasant one? I certainly liked it." Miz pointed out.

"That was a Stanley-idea; he’s part of my Zodiac," Bill told her, then gave a slight grimace. "Pretty sure the stupid lizard made _them_ so they’re _supposed_ to ‘surprise’ me with things -- and new ideas, and sheer and utter lunacy -- more often than I can count on them to count them out. --But yes," he told her, "I liked it. That wasn’t because of Stanley, though," he told her. "That’s because you are you, and my sister."

"I like pleasant surprises. Well, within reason." Miz shrugged.

"I don’t like not-telling you things," Bill noted, getting back to his sister’s ‘threatened’ ‘secret-keeping’, but with her apparently asking him for a ‘pleasant surprise’ he had to stop and rethink a few things a bit, then he hummed for a moment. "...‘Pleasant surprises’ are what I call gifts?" he tried after a moment, realizing that this might be some sort of definition issue again?

"That is one type." Miz considered it. "There are many types. For all situations." She was getting off topic though. "I… like telling you things, and I'm happy you like telling me things too. But sometimes there are things I don't want to tell anyone about."

"If it’s not a secret, then it’s just something we haven’t talked about yet," Bill told her, going the route of an educated guess for that response. (Her morality was flat-ish -- more like that Stanford -- which meant he should talk with her _now_ about how....) "Secrets have impact, they end-and-start through causality to bad-or-worse decisions by the people who don’t know them; holding back knowledge can be dangerous," he told her, "But to your critical advantage. It depends on how you use it, or how and when you hold it back."

And it was at that point that Bill realized suddenly that he’d never actually had a conversation with his sister on how he _usually_ did his own business in his ‘set with anyone or anything, or anything at all to do with how he usually gained or acquired knowledge, or when or how he decided to and ever did dole it out, and to whom. She’d only seen so far how he did the things that he did with his Zodiac, primarily… but that was only a small group of people. That didn’t even _begin_ to touch upon the demons who he--

"There are things I've never told anyone. Not even to my sisters. And I'm pretty sure there're things you haven't told me, for your own reasons. And I just want to tell you that I'm okay with that."

"Well, yes," Bill said, noting her decision on the matter, and getting back to the point that he’d been trying to work up to with a bit less internal worry than before, as he shared how he felt about... "Calling ‘lies of omission’ a thing because you didn’t talk about a thing yet is stupid, whether you’re one or one _trillion_ years old. It’s just a lack of communication issue, really." And that Stanford really should just get over himself on the subject, already. "I will explain all about the dimensions and the fixing, though. When we are less rushed," he added, as he suddenly pattern-matched some of her phrasing with what she’d told him two nights ago.

"I know you will," Miz told him, trying not to get too angry about that with him again just then. Because collapsing all those dimensions was just... "But, well, what I'm saying is that sometimes, I won't be able to tell you stuff. Because I don't want you to stress out and get worried." Miz really didn't want to make him worry. It was the same reason why she hadn't told her friends about half the shit she'd been through.

"I wasn’t able to tell you all the things we just talked about here, or in my own ‘set, over the blog, only because of operational security; it was too dangerous," he told her, blinking as he worried that maybe she hadn’t known _why_ he’d left out so much of it. He’d sent her that one note, but… "If it’s something that will ‘stress me out’ or ‘worry me’, I won’t worry or stress," he told her, as he finally realized that he might have to try to directly explain how he knew he was _slightly_ different from her in that way, in the form of giving her a different add-on layer to his earlier promise, as he explained to her that, "I’ll just get mad and come over to help you break whatever you need to break, instead. ...Or meet you here, and we can talk things out," he amended next, frowning. "I don’t know how much push, pull, or sway I might have in your dimension," he admitted, not really liking to admit it, but...

"Meeting and talking here would be nice." Miz blinked. "We'd be able to see each other, even when I can't go to your world for whatever reason." Then she laughed. "I'll see you in my dreams!"

Bill tilted his head at her, then smiled slightly.

"Your _dreams_ are on the other side of that Door," he told her almost teasingly, while floating in the middle of her ‘true’ Dreamscape. "I can slide a ‘polaroid picture’ under the Door? Of me? So you can ‘see’ me in your dreams there?" he tried next.

Miz giggled, vibrating with a healthy glow. "I meant we can meet up here, after making plans to do so over my blog. So we can be together."

Bill let out a ‘breath’ again and nodded. He hadn’t even considered that before, with the ‘broken Bill’ issue being such a problem (and her ability to move around the Doors still technically an open question until this visit). --He rather _liked_ the idea, except… "I’ll try to think of some ways to automate the capture-of-‘broken Bills’-process," he told her. He _also_ still needed to think of a way to do something to similar effect that would work for he _himself_ to use. His sister moving her own Doors around was all well and good, but he wasn’t even sure he _could_ do that, even if he wanted to risk what that might do to her if _he_ did it, instead of her. She had been the one to move all those dimensions around in the Reverse!Flatland dimensional set, and he hadn’t really watched and gotten a good Look at what she’d been doing, let alone _how_ she had done it; he didn’t even know if he _could_ do something like that yet. And if he started moving around Doors inside her Dreamscape like this, without knowing what he was doing, or whether he was forcing something to move that really shouldn’t be forced, or moved… Well. --It was something for him to practice on and over using something else ( _very_ different than her Doors) in the meantime and in his own ‘set, then, he calculated and figured.

"We'll figure it out as well go." Miz shrugged, not worrying over it. "We have time. I'm not gonna die. And neither are you."

Bill smiled. "Not again!" he told her almost chipperly. "Two times is more than enough for me, forever and forever-again."

"Same!" Miz laughed. Then she quieted. She couldn't keep stalling, and neither could he. His body was just lying there back in his own ‘set right now, and somebody was going to notice if she let him keep on stalling her any longer, too.

"I'm gonna need to go now," she reminded him. "And part of me doesn't want to. Even as the other part of me does."

And with the way Bill looked frustrated all over again, she knew that he really had been stalling her on purpose, at least a little bit consciously.

"Well, the sooner you get Fister back, the sooner you can find a way to make him leave. And then I'll be able to come back," Miz added.

"I… yes," Bill said, and he stopped. He didn't say anything further.

Miz paused for a moment, then realized that she really couldn’t think of anything else that she could say that was any better than what she’d already told him before. "See you soon," was the only thing she could go with.

...And now it was happening. It was really and with-finality happening. His sister was leaving him, and now Bill had to just… _let her go_ and say… and just say...

Bill paused for a moment, thinking of what, exactly, he should say to her, about all of this, right here and now. Thinking of what Miz had said before, and now again. Thinking of how he didn’t like or want to let her go; how he really didn’t want her to go.

...And then something occurred to him. Something he'd seen -- well, _read_ \-- from that other dimension, something that he hadn’t quite understood fully before…

...but from how his sister had said nearly the same thing as that particular person had decided to say, and the situation there, and… _all_ of it, Bill suddenly realized that what that other person had wanted -- what Miz, having once been human also, probably wanted -- was--

"I will see you... soon, too," Bill told his sister. "I _will_ see you again soon. I will. I will. --And you will see me again, too."

Miz gave him the slightest of eye-smiles as she listened to him and heard what he had told her, and then she turned away from him once again.

And then Miz was gone, out-and-in through her Door and it closed with a sense of locked-finality behind her.

Bill pulled in another 'deep breath' and floated there for almost a minute of timeless-time, staring, before he turned away himself to go back to his own Door.

He would go back there now. He would open that Door, and go back inside it.

Back inside his body.

Back inside the Shack.

He would send her a message on his phone to her blog, put her MizDoll up in his room, and then...

...and then he would bring 'Ford Pines back to life. He would _trick_ that Stanford into it, letting him do it without breaking the agreement outright. And then...

And then.

And then he would see about Stanley.

And then…

...when all was said and done…

\--He would finish with _these_ things far sooner than _that._ And then he would have his sister back. He would. He _would_. He wanted his sister back, and he _would_ have his own sister again, back. Safe and sound. Alive and well-again, and, _well_ …

'See you later.' _See you again soon._

\--This wasn't 'goodbye'. This wasn’t an ‘I doubt I will ever see you again’. This would _never_ be a goodbye, a giving up and accepting of fate and destiny and the 'real free will' that was such a joke here. No.

Just like that other Stanford from that other unknown dimensional set that he still hadn’t traced back, separate from his one entirely, Bill knew. He knew what this was, and what it would be.

This wasn’t a _‘giving up’_ and it was **not** a goodbye.

\--This was an _'I do not accept this, I will fix this, I will find a way to make this work, and I will defy and overcome and beat into the floor anything and everything and every **one** that DARES to so much as **think** of attempting to stand in my way!'_

Bill was _going_ to fix this. He _would_ bring that ‘Ford back, without having to destroy or give up anything or anyone he’d been working towards over the course of his full one trillion years. He _would_ find a way to handle things, to make things safe for his sister to be able to come stay with him again.

And then--

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Miz's original AN:**  
>  IT IS OFFICIALLY THE TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF ILLUSION IS REALITY!  
> *Fanfare*  
> I can't believe I spent most of this past year on the BlueBill/46'\\-A Arc  
> XD  
> And I bet most of the next year will be spent on the Triplet Crossover Arc
> 
> **My AN:**  
>  Oh man, that was a wild ride! --And it doesn't stop _there_ , either!
> 
> Longest thing I’ve ever written, let alone with somebody else. (I admit, I am a bit worried that I didn’t keep the plot and/or character-knowledge and/or character voice consistent within the -A verse, or introduced some kind of dumbass lotholes along the way. ...Well, I tried. If anybody notices something that looks odd or out of place or inconsistent within-’verse, please let me know? ^_^;; )
> 
> Though, with all that said and done, believe me, let me tell you, the events of these last two chapters? Had me modifying what I was going to have happen in the next plot-arc piece _quite_ a bit, starting right from the very next Bill- and Ford-centric in-sequence fic! So consider yourself warned ;) *g* --Stay tuned!


End file.
